Monday, May 27, 2013

Brown out of the ground

Local clay fired to cone 6 oxidation with clear glaze.
      Dug from the pasture. I finally found some clay that will hold shape and vitrify to Cone 6 – so far. Recent storms and wash-outs have uncovered a small seam so I'm hoping to dig a larger quantity to play with. For now, I'm just testing. This is basically the same clay body as Bybee's clay body as it comes from the same geologic layer laid down during the Denovian extinction.  If all goes well, it should fire to cone 10 and a little bit higher. At higher temps, other tests with some of my local potter friends have yielded a deep, dark chocolate body color.
Local slip clay fired to Cone 6.
     Most of the clay I have found along my stream beds has been the gray-blue variety which I've been using and testing as a slip. It won't hold a form but it fluxes on it's own as a slip/glaze. Bright orange at low fire (cone 010-cone 060, at least) but deepens it cone 6 and becomes shinier. This recent clay is yellow ochre in color. Happy that I found some. Now I have to get buckets and dig some up before the horses crap all over it.
I spy a teacup form.
     In the mean time, I have some carving of mugs to execute while I wait on the second glaze firing in the past few days. Night times are being devoted to researching kiln building. I plan to construct a kiln on the property next to the studio and future gallery. I've settled on a soda/reduction kiln using LP gas and wood. I have found a hybrid plan and hope to modify it to my needs. I want the flexibility of using wood, which I have in abundance on my property, with gas or just gas firing alone. I'm intrigued by soda, mostly because I find myself gravitating towards pots that are soda-fired again and again. I think the effects might work well with the type of primitive carving and graphic shapes I use. The other reason, quite frankly, is that no one else close by utilizes soda-firing, (mostly salt-firing) so a good part of this is curiosity and experimentation. Worse comes to worse, I'll just fire reduction firings.
     Slowly getting back to some regular production after the Great Gall Bladder Removal. Much to catch up on, the least of which is finally getting all the raised beds situated in the garden. My husband did most of the heavy work, the construction, the tilling and the filling of the beds. I tried to help but really shouldn't be doing so much just yet. Weeding and planting are my speed. It's late in the season, I had hoped to be so much further along but better late than never!
Courtesy Scott. Garden fence is next.
Sunflowers!!
Miniature Irises still showing off...
Mmm... yummy.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Recovery and CO2

Angus greets the irises.
     Surgery was fascinating. Well, not the surgery since I wasn't "there" when it happened in an awareness sense but oh my! The part where you go under is seriously so final and sudden, without warning or memory!  The last words I remember saying were "In the moment," then it was <LIGHTS OUT> until the superfantastic-percoset-ride upon waking. WOW. That was weird. The nurse called me "a real trooper." Just for sitting up and putting my clothes on! My mother was never that complimentary.
Minimalism, flesh as canvas.
     The whole non-awareness part and how drugs can induce that has me fascinated about states of awareness and neurology. Just what is memory? What is awareness? If you can turn it off so definitively and quickly, without any memory whatsoever, what is going on when we think, or when we think we're thinking? Awareness, self-awareness is truly an amazing thing. At any given moment, just be amazed that you can contemplate at all.
SPRING HAS ARRIVED. Including the lovely poison ivy bordering the irises.
     As for the surgery, the CO2 part is the biggest pain, literally. Well, I'm not sure I'd call it pain as much as discomfort that moves around your body. In laproscopic surgery, they poke holes in you and blow your belly up with CO2 so they can move around under the skin. When they're done, they remove the surgical tools and push the air out of your belly, as much as they can. (I had comical visions of me flying around the OR erratically like a balloon when it was described to me prior to my surgery. When they actually strapped my legs down on the table in the OR, I couldn't help giggling.) However, they can't get all the CO2 out and so it has to dissipate through your diaphragm and throughout your abdominal cavity. It tends to settle in your upper chest and shoulders (and neck) causing some feelings like you're having a heart attack except that it's just pressure from the gas. The remedy is to move, to walk, in order to help the body move the CO2 out of your system. And that's where I am now, balancing moving, working and walking without over-exerting myself. Other than that, so far, so good. I'm even back at glazing the pots I bisqued the day after surgery (thanks to my husband and mother-in-law for helping me fire the kiln and unload!). I have other trays, mugs and slab bowls to carve for additional bisque firings. I'm a bit behind where I'd like to be but really, pretty pleased with where I am, considering this unexpected health adventure. And all my irises are blooming! What a bonus!
Some new ideas...
Blue Horse Bowls.
     A grateful thank you to the surgical people, naturally (with a shout out to the anesthesia team! -Go Fentanyl! Go Percoset! Go anti-nausea drugs!) and thank you's to every one who has wished me well, including people who have contacted me here on the blog, Twitter and on Facebook. I still cannot reply to comments on my blog for some unknown reason but just know that I love you all :)

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Saying good-bye to a part of me

     You make plans. And then they change. New pots, new sculptures, new gallery, raised beds, planting the garden, time to get busy. And then, it turns out, your gall bladder has to come out. Which really puts a crimp in the quarterly plans, you have no idea.
     I've been told of all the abdominal surgeries, laparoscopic cholecystectomy is the safest, easiest and quickest to recover from. I certainly hope so. However, as someone who has never even encountered a cavity, well, let's just say this has been quite the adventure so far. I go in tomorrow. I hear the drugs are fab. My biggest regret? That I won't "be there" to see it happen. Surgery is so cool!
     It is my organ so I asked if I could have it afterwards but apparently that's a biohazard. They don't even give out gall stones any more. The surgeon has kindly offered to take pictures while he's looking around in there. (They blow you up like a balloon so they can move around to perform the surgery. Nice view of the liver, I'm told.) I would rather have the DVD but I'll be happy with snapshots.
     Poor little gall bladder. It's been a spastic case my whole life but I didn't realize it until recently. I just assumed post-meal discomfort was part of eating. When I was interrupted by sharp stabbing, spasmodic pains for a day or two recently, I opted to see the doctor at my husband's urging. Two months later and I'm about to lose an organ that's been with me for fifty years.
     I had considered just putting up with the discomfort and changing my diet since the stabbing pain only lasted a day or two and I'd rather not have surgery but then I spoke to my mother who told me that there may be a family connection since her older sister had gall bladder issues in her 50-60s and ended up in emergency surgery, sick for many months afterwards as a result of ignoring the symptoms of "indigestion" for so long. Soooooo, that changed my mind.
     And now I bid fond adieu to the lowly gall bladder, storer of bile. You did what you could. Not very well, apparently, but I appreciate your service nonetheless. When I think back on the stabbing pains, I will think of you and the biohazard refuse container that will be your final resting place. I will eat raw cookie dough in your honor tonight (before I'm to stop eating at midnight!) as a last meal of sorts. That and spicy Italian sausage and lentil soup. Bon appetit!

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Open Studio

Chartreuse, light rust, rosy mauve. Joy!
     The peepers are peeping. It's that time of year. Lovely Spring!

I have seasonal open studio hours from April until September, Wednesdays through Saturdays, 10am – 3pm. During those times, you will find me (and my three dogs and three cats and whomever else is hanging around) working in my studio doing whatever needs to be done. If you come down my driveway then, I will not greet you with a dirty look. Promise. But I may put you to work if I need help. Kidding. Sometimes pottery, sometimes sculpture, sometimes wrestling with gourds. We'll see how this years crop comes up. I'm set to grow loofahs! Scrubby sponges anyone?
New listings on Etsy... Covered Vessel, $42
     There will be exceptions to my open days for any indoor/outdoor events that I may have to attend. Check back here or like my page on Facebook [http://www.facebook.com/teahorsestudio] for more specific dates. Email me for directions.

Current absent dates will be: April 17, April 26 and April 27.

Friday, April 5, 2013

The Intimate Approach

The Intimate ApproachCynthia Cusick, 2013
Carved stoneware, underglaze, acrylic, wax
12"h x 4 1/2"w x 3 1/2"d
 
The Intimate Approach, detail


Thursday, April 4, 2013

Jerry the truck driver and accessibility

I am intrigued by you. Come closer.
     The internet is a great democratizer and Facebook is a strange phenomenon amongst the jungles of the internet.
I see you but no one knows you're a dog on the internet.
     The powers that be at Facebook, heretofore known as "FB," have defined and redefined what a "friend" is or at least made us think about what constitutes friendship, how you share information with others, and when and how you deal with information of yours (and others) that "gets out there," beyond your control. Because FB is both a personal and impersonal way of communicating, you can be more apt to sit on the sidelines and observe interaction and events. Conversely, you can engage.
"How Does Healing Take Place?"
     Because your end of communication often occurs in your little sphere of your familiar environment, your comfort zone, you can be bold and fire off an email or reply to a tweet or comment, acting on impulse. This can result in ridiculous rudeness, juvenile pettiness and social dysfunction, the likes of which you've probably never encountered in public but perhaps only at family holiday gatherings. However, it can also spur discussion among people who might also never engage otherwise. As a person who began socializing on the internet on bulletin boards way before the World Wide Web and browsers, it's been fascinating watching how this "thing" has unfolded and trying to keep it all in perspective.
Stall Boards, 2008
Cynthia Cusick
     There is a debate/discussion on my FB feed among some artists and art critic types that a FB acquaintance commented on. I guess I would call him that. I don't know him; I can't call him a "friend" as that implies that he is on my "friend" list which he isn't. I "follow" him by "subscribing" to his page. Or something like that. Anyway, I do not know this person except that he is a FB friend of a person on my friend list, and she – an artist – is simply the sister of one of my best friends from high school. Through several threads that this sister FB friend commented on, I was introduced to this FB acquaintance's point of view via his comments and posts. I call him Jerry the truck driver. I call him that because he mentioned that he once drove over the road, or OTR in tractor-trailer-speak. He also mentioned he used to be a chauffeur. He lives in NYC.
     Jerry the truck driver's comments, posts and observations about art were thoughtful, well-written and  provoked debate. Some of his comments and posts coincided with some of the same opinions I held about works of art, artists, the state of the art world, and so on. He wrote with wit and seemed approachable. I thought about "friending" him but I really didn't "know" him so I "subscribed." He already had thousands of friends on his FB list. I figured he was some kind of "friend collector" on FB or had a really active social life. Regardless, I liked the things he posted. It brought me back to the things about art and NYC that I missed. He was funny. When I commented, he replied in a respectful manner. Not an asshole, I thought, thank god. As a result, I have become more engaged (albeit in a small way) in art-related discussions, apparently with people who are intimately involved in the art scene in larger cities - critics, dealers and artists. The insights and back-and-forths have been entertaining at times and function as mini-art history lessons, not to mention a living catalog of current, contemporary artists. With the advent and maturity of search engines, I'm often able to look up people's work and teach myself more about my contemporaries and past artists' work. A virtual graduate school.  After a few interactions with Jerry via FB, I searched his name on the internet just to see if there was a reason why he was so popular. Turns out, he's the art critic for The New Yorker magazine. Gawd, luv, Cindi, always late to the party... I never claimed to be on top of things.
     The internet has done many things, socially. Its influence on our behavior - those of us who choose to engage - is evolving. One of the things that is beneficial, I think, is the democratization of interaction and information. Jerry the truck driver is a great example. Because he is accessible via subscription on FB (and comments in his online articles found on the internet), a reader, rather than just read an article in a magazine by him and – if motivated enough – take the time to write a letter, put it in an envelope, spend the pennies for the stamp and mail it, then wonder if it ever got read or even opened – now, that reader can hit the comment and post button. Jerry, being a sociable, engaging person, is more directly available – and so are his insights. Not only that, because the comments on places like FB are viewable, even if you don't engage directly by commenting, you can read other comments to Jerry by others who may or may not be notable people in their field. And because the internet experience is impersonal and Jerry the truck driver is reduced to type on your computer monitor in the comfort of your home, the information, interplay and exchange of ideas can be less intimidating that direct social interaction. How many people who aren't obsessed with art would never think to enter a gallery? never bother looking at contemporary art? never consider going to an opening? never bother approaching an art critic with their point of view? How many people who are obsessed with art still wouldn't do the same because they are intimidated by the whole process? [/me raises hand]
     A cold wind is whistling through the halls of the "art world" (or at least the places on the internet where critics, dealers, collectors and some artists have been mingling) about gallery attendance, about sales, about the schism between the prices at auction houses [see this NYT article: "Art Market Goes Hot and Cold."] and the prices commanded by contemporary artists, about the schism between regular contemporary artists and the celebrities among artists, about the quality of the work out there, about getting seen, getting shows, getting heard, getting funding. Jerry the truck driver has written an article touching on this subject. It is on the website, Vulture.com.
     I think much of it is really just basic economics. World economies are struggling, why should the art market be any different? Who has time to go to a gallery when you have to pound the pavement looking for a job, or put in a second shift because you no longer have that cushy job from five years ago? Income disparity has affected the art market, too. The high end people function in a sphere that the majority of us won't ever experience except in some television expose about homes of the rich and famous or some such nonsense. They deal with Christies and Sotheby's and the air is just different there. The middle market? Has it disappeared? Or has it moved online?
     Perhaps the whole art gallery/market experience has been punctured by the advent of online galleries. Not necessarily in a huge WOW-EVERYTHING-HAS-CHANGED way, perhaps. More as a marginal experience. In the genre of ceramic art and functional pottery, online galleries such as FerrinAKAR and the Schaller Gallery, are successful in sales for their artists. Jerry the truck driver remarks in his recent article about dealers who conduct business via JPEG. All the internet does is provide another gateway, another medium. It widens the audience of potential admirers and buyers alike. For those who cannot get to a gallery, who are intimidated, bored or annoyed by the sales people, who prefer a less direct, more direct, indirect and/or more anti-social experience, this gateway provides an expansion of experience. But it is the internet expansion of the art experience, as far as I'm concerned, including being able to interact with the people who make up the matrix of art scenes world-wide, that has the potential to add some energy to the discussion, starting with removing the self-imposed, psychological barriers of a whole number of people who have excluded themselves from art in the first place. Because Jerry the truck driver is more accessible, so, too, is your art experience.