Studio Journal #3

A sort of weekly ramble, maybe monthly or daily but rarely consistent

I awoke at 4.53am with a head full of noise and a determination to settle some of it down to at least an annoying background buzz.

The cats are climbing the monsterra again and I instinctively yell explitives, pointless I agree. When will cats ever be deterred from their destructive ways. They are now under the rug chasing a shell.

Wind is forecast today, not much but enough to maybe giving the window frames a second coat of paint a miss. I notice the covering of sand drifting across the hallway as I ponder a winter curtain for the front door. A light has been shone on the naming of the house “Sandyhall” as even the mildest breeze encourages sand to sneak in and then creep its way throughout. I find myself caring less about this these days it feels like wasted energy to constant sweep it up.

The clouds drift on past, I feel a moment of annoyance that my coffee grinder has finally decided to retire itself leaving me bereft of my ritual cup and try to decide which jobs to tackle. There is a list.

The slight nip in the morning announces autumn has definitely arrived. I wonder if we will have a gentle journey into the brutality of an Orkney winter or whether it will just arrive. Everything this cycle of seasons is a first. How cold before my hands can’t tolerate working the clay before the pain is too much. I hope the stove can work some firery magic but there is doubt. Will the howling wind rattle the roof so much that the noise becomes intolerable. Audiobooks will transfer onto headphones.

This week I’ve started on an installation piece.

It’s title “52”

Thoughts have been mulling around this subject for a while. There have been significant changes in my life at the age of 52 and it feels important to somehow record that. How discoveries about my mind and body in the last couple of years have explained my life of unknowns. Of pain both physical and mental and how a lifelong search for answers have come together with someone finally joining the dots.

Clay is taking an age to dry it’s way into a workable moisture level. I have to remove myself from the studio as the urge to tinker constantly is strong and I’ve ruined several pieces. I’m having longer lunch breaks with knitting interspersed with playing mindless matching games and watching all manner of random videos on you tube.

Not particularly productive. It’s also a week of heightened muscle pain where my entire body constantly aches. I’ve learnt to take lots of mini rests to get through this part of my cycle.

I find myself staring out the window and planning the garden. I am watching, trying not to make any reckless decisions which involve immediate digging but I keep coming back round to the Labyrinth idea that seeded itself in my head years ago. Now maybe the time to begin preparing for the future where I can’t walk miles and miles but round in gentle circles in the rain and wind.

I’ve made a few pieces incorporating the coarse pigment I found on the eroding shoreline at the Bay of Taft. I suspect it is a red sandstone but it’s ground down to a nice powder which when slaked down makes a beautiful coloured slip of sorts. It will be interesting to see how it fires. Most potters would carefully test a new material in a controlled manner. I’ve just causally splattered it across my biggest pot at present.

After all for me it’s the journey that brings the joy not the finished piece and who doesn’t love flicking paint.