Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know" is a song we've all heard a million and one times this summer until we puke from overexposure. When this song first came out, I was still digesting a break-up that had occurred in my life and, every time it came on, I thought, "I know this is just a song, but it feels really authentic somehow."
...and then I sang my face off to that one part (like the rest of you goons).
Anyway, try as I have to avoid contact with this former partner of mine, today was the day that I unexpectedly ran into him as I was walking through a tunnel to the Blue Line. Yes, a tunnel. What a great place to run into someone you might like to avoid.
There are lots of things I could say about how I feel and how I felt when this happened and I realize my experience isn't unique. However, to avoid actually vomiting, passing out, or doing something otherwise destructive during the time it took me to ride from Jackson to my stop at California, I wrote it all down as a way to document this run-in and learn from my reaction. Now, I will share this with you. I tried to write it in the format of a poem(ish) for art-making sake. Thanks for reading.
Used to be My Life
When you unexpectedly run into someone you once loved, It's like getting sidelined By a herd of running bulls.
Try as you might to keep your calm, Inevitably your heart races
And you become overly excitable. In my case, this happened in the subway. I was having a perfectly pleasant afternoon Returning home.
When I saw him.
I quickly weighed my options With the bat of an eyelash.
He sees me. Do I stop?
Yes.
Oh, shit. No.
NO!
But I do.
When you try to make small talk with someone you once loved It sounds something like An underwater Speak and Spell In your own ears.
Rubbish. Utter garble Floating up and out of your throat.
All of this nonsense Because you, The sad sack In this particular situation Are concurrently being hit with a wave.
No, A FUCKING tsunami of emotion and think:
Wow, he got a little fat. but his eyes are still the same.
You think:
About the texture of his hair, The smell of that cologne you really liked.
The way he made you smile even when you were PISSED.
And now, he's here A year and some later.
And you can't Stand this any longer cause You've begun to shake.
This an entry I've been meaning to write for some time, but have not for fear of sounding ridiculous. Since that, in itself is ridiculous, I decided today would be the day to go for it.
I have been practicing yoga for several years, but it wasn't until a year ago that I started to take it seriously. Recently, there have been moments of clarity during my practice where I feel a familiar oneness with myself, my breath, my mind, and my body.
After some thought, I considered that I might be scratching that same 'itch' of self-fulfillment with both yoga and my art practice. Both force me to turn my thoughts inward and strive to understand myself for the purpose of betterment; both physically and emotionally.
So, according to me, this is why yoga and clay are related and relatable for many artists (such as myself).
1. Balance: This is really the main one. Both yoga and ceramics, both functional and sculptural, require a knowledge and understanding of balance and distribution of weight. One day in class, I was in Standing Bow pose (see below- I'm sure they modeled this 'how to' image off my perfect form), considering why I wasn't falling flat on my face and it dawned on me. Getting into this, or any other balance in yoga has everything to do with understanding how your body distributes weight- much like clay. For example, if I were to begin sculpting a figure in this pose, I would need to first know where to add additional support so that the clay wouldn't slump or be stressed. I find that the teapot is a good example of balance in ceramics. I'm not claiming that I'm a teapot expert (honestly, I'm just making my first one now), but I know that all the components; the spout, handle, lid, need to be situated in a way that makes the piece functional. I've included an image of a pot made by Deb Schwartzkopf because the gesture in her work is just fantastic.
Altered teapot by Deborah Schwartzkopf
In reality, I think I probably look a little more like this:
2. Practice: Just like anything, and I mean ANYTHING, both yoga and being a ceramic artist requires practice. It is only through practice that you can see improvement and, in the case of creating artwork, it is through practice that others can continue to see you progress. Something I think is particularly interesting is that both physical activity (be it yoga, dance, etc.) and creating artwork (specifically, wheel throwing) cultivates a muscle memory. Even if your mind isn't completely focused on what you're doing, your muscles 'remember' the action. I think that's rather fascinating, don't you?
3. Intuition: I'm not sure this is a completely accurate title for this bullet point, but here it goes. You know yourself, and you know your limits. This is incredibly helpful in yoga because not everyone can get into poses like Mayurasana, or 'Peacock Pose' (see below), nor should we (cause that shit's crazy) but that's okay. It took me a long time to stop comparing myself to others, both in yoga and in the ceramics field. Okay, well...maybe I still compare myself to others with ceramics. In any case, it doesn't help anyone. The person next to you in yoga couldn't give one hoot about you and how you fell out of Tree Pose. Same goes for ceramics. Yes, it's competitive and we need to care about what one another is doing. However, the fact that Cristina Cordova makes incredible f*@&ing work and shows internationally shouldn't matter all that much to me apart from her lead by example. If I want to be better, I need to get better, end of story.
Peacock Pose- Photographer unknown
Cristina Cordova
I'm getting a little off-track. What I mean to say in relation to intuition and ceramics is that you need to know when to stop. I'm still working on this skill, but I think I'm a lot better than I used to be. You know that moment when you're just touching your piece for the sake of touching it? That's when you should stop. It helps me to follow my gut, but sometimes my gut doesn't know what's what. When in doubt, just stop. You can always go back if you really must, but I find that overdoing it could ruin an otherwise satisfactory piece. I think the same goes for yoga. Simply put, you won't be good to yourself or anyone else if you dislocate your shoulder. So, just quit it and slow down.
I'm sort of losing steam with this post but I think that, overall, yoga and clay are kindred fields because humans can relate to them. If yoga is your thing, you may be able to find solace within your practice because of the connection with your breath, body, and mind. I find the same is true with ceramics. Clay is so bodily that, when touching it, many of us feel a connection with it's materiality. I know I do, and that is part of the reason why clay calls me to make figurative work. It just makes sense and, although I know there must be a more eloquent way of phrasing; that's why I love it.
Thank you for reading, and I hope to catch you next time.
Seana. xo.
P.S. Here is a link to a great interview on NPR discussing yoga and some pros/cons, etc.
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