Retirement from the Federal Bureau of Prisons couldn’t come soon enough. It was the bureaucracy that drove me mad. I took the job out of necessity. It wasn’t easy finding a job during the 1990’s recession. I was fortunate because working in law enforcement is recession proof. The business of crime never slows down. I retired in 2019 with ambitious thoughts of starting a printmaking/letterpress business, but things didn’t turn out as planned. Most of the letterpress equipment I used to own was sold. I only kept a few small presses to refurbish and play around with. Some people find typesetting cathartic. I discovered that I’m not one of those people. My anxious brain couldn’t sit still long enough to get anything done. Before I retired I started taking adult ceramics classes. Throwing clay on the wheel is cathartic and its gravitational forces pulled me in. I did have reservations about it because I wasn’t happy with my health. I had an office job at the prison and all that sitting turned me into a potato. Art can be a sedentary process and that wasn’t going to fix my health concerns. So, just like Forest Gump, I started run-ning. I ran a dozen half marathons in a span of four years, followed a nutrition plan and lost around 35 lbs. Despite all the accomplishments I still had reservations about my health. After four years of running I felt weaker than when I started. I learned that running doesn’t improve strength. Only strength training does that, go figure. Eventually, I made the switch. I took it slow at first before working my way up to six days a week. I don’t plan on going back to a sedentary life and that means art is now secondary to my health and longevity goals.
It’s 2025 and I’m still orbiting planet ceramics, and visiting the nearby moon of printmaking occasionally. Everyone is on their own space journey so you know it’s not always a smooth ride. Occasionally, there’s some space junk or an asteroid field you need to avoid. Lately, a great big hunk of orange space junk just flew into everyone’s orbit. Not acknowledging it gives an impression that everything is okay. Everything is not okay but I’m going to do my best to create some beautiful art as therapy for myself and everyone else. If you’re an artist and you are creating, keep it up. Creating art to remind people that life is beautiful solidifies the need for art in life. Sometimes we need reminders, I know I do. Fortunately, I work in the field of ceramics and get to help students become artists. It is one of the greatest joys in my life and I’m so grateful.
The image above is a clay sculpture/sketch that I made recently. It is now in an invitational exhibition at the Adrian Center for the Arts. I call it a sketch because it has an immediate quality to it. Some might say it’s poor quality. As someone who struggles with mental health, I do what makes me happy. It usually requires some letting go of what I know in order to go with the flow. I recall making figures like this as a child along the muddy banks of Beaver Creek behind our house. Most of the time they stayed on the bank until they were washed away by the next rain storm.
Concerning the glaze I mixed up a batch of Folk Art Guild White. I love the way it gets toasty on all the little imperfections. Yes, I said “imperfections” and I’m also a fan of Japanese aesthetic, but I’m not going to say the W word. It’s overused in my opinion. I will say what my wife and I call it when you don’t hit the mark. We call it “slobby bobby” and, I’ve made my fair share of it. This piece might even fit into the slobby bobby category. But, an artist friend once told me that it doesn’t matter how I feel about it. It only matters how you feel. As far as I’m concerned I would be fine with leaving it on a river bank and letting the next rain wash it down stream.
The Heron 