I have a conversational style that seems to disappear when I write online, something I’m not terribly fond of. I think the blog format makes me nervous somehow, and I over edit my normally casual tone. The result is me, but it’s a tempered, less spunky me. This style gap has made me a less frequent writer. I write before an event, during times I know when folks are going to be directed to my page from a festival or event website. This paints a picture of me that under represents what my life is, as SO much of it happens outside of my show schedule. The shows are the public forum, the life is what happens in and mainly around that. So here goes. I love sharing stories and events with people. I used to love to write. I love to talk. I’m going to try to do a heck of a lot more of that, ok? There’s more to this potter than just the pottery.
Underlying all of the writing reluctance there’s a core element of who I am. Forged into my being, probably genetically, is a need to please. Maybe it’s that fabled Midwestern work ethic thing, maybe it’s my Scandinavian genes, maybe it’s just dumb luck. I have a hard time doing things that I know may disappoint. In fact, I often, regularly, over extend myself in order to make things happen. Burning the candle at both ends is a phrase I use often, much to my own personal distress. Dovetailing this need to please is a burning desire to be sucessful. Successful as a mother, a partner, a potter, a friend, family member, a teacher and a human being. As the saying goes there are but twenty four hours in the day, and I spend most of my time thinking of ways to be a success at all that I do. I rise early to work before the kids are up, stay up late to work after they’re in bed and fill the middle filling of the day with all the life roles I have. I lead a full life, but lately the cup overfloweth.
So, here it is my white flag of surrender. I’m waving it feebly from my bunker. I need a break. Some breathing time to regroup and breathe. Some time to focus on my family. As a self employed potter I never took a maternity break with either of my two deliveries. My kids were both born during “Rhinebeck season” the busiest part of my work life, and people want pots. So the kids both spent a large part of their infancy in the studio. My family often gets the short end of my attention when I’m working to prepare for a show. I love them too much to let this crazy train of overwork continue. I’m cashing in on my maternity break, my sabbatical, or a holiday break. Call it what you like, but I’m going to take a month or so to regroup.
I will be posting a few items in my etsy shop in the next week. You’ll see awesome new ornaments, earrings, buttons and stitchmarkers. As much as I know this is disappointing news to people, and it saddens me to let folks down, there will be no pottery posted in the shop this holiday season. That means no mugs, yarn bowls, or special orders. Please be respectful of this posting. I will let you know, I promise, when I plan to have pottery available outside of my show schedule.
I’m a creative soul, and this creativity needs sometime to breathe. I’m full of ideas and plans for the future. I’d like these ideas to have a chance to bloom. I know myself, and my relationship to clay. So I’ll be making as it too is hard wired into me. Instead of making work to cross items off my studio list, or to prepare for a show, I’ll be creating for the joy of it. This break will be a fruitful, but a challenging time nonetheless.
I’m hopeful you’ll understand, and hope you’ll check back here as the season progresses. I’ll post more of my other crafty endeavors here, and some other goings on, in an attempt to bring my voice here. Join me, eh?
4 thoughts on “Break”
“Creating for the joy of it” Yes, absolutely! Enjoy your time.
Way to listen to your heart. Many blessings for a time of renewal and inspiration.
Sounds like a much needed and well-deserved sabbatical. Enjoy!
Take care. I look forward (patient and understanding) to your return to clay.
I spotted a couple of things as I dashed past your booth at Madrona on my way to class; when I returned they were gone. I learned my lesson!