Last Saturday I went, for the first time, to Bergamot Station in Santa Monica. Bergamot Station is an old train station converted into a cluster of art galleries. It's quite large, and I've heard it's name dropped quite a few times during art critiques and conversations, but have never visited myself. I'm glad I finally did though, because it's quite lovely (and free). If you're lucky, you'll be able to find some gems, but for the most part, the art displayed is s-h-i-t. Pardon the French, but I was surprised to find very few "original" or wholesomely novel works within the slew of galleries I walked into. This of course, fueled the anxiety of my self-imposed and unanswered question posed above --
Breakfast/Brunch with Mike at the Little Next Door :)
I want to paint my house that electric blue.
Mike's "Frittata" and potatoes au gratin
My smoked salmon benedict. Mmmmmm....
Dessert (overpriced), quite good though.At Bergamot, some notable works:
Painted on cardboard "fruit" boxes, cut outs filled in with mirrors.
A freaking room-full of owl paintings.
Ha. Amazing.
I'm sorry I wasn't a very studious art student.
I didn't record the names of the above artists, but I don't know if it's very relevant.
Maybe it is...
in either case, I apologize.
So anyway, to continue this conversation. . . I've left this blog post unfinished for literally a week now, and I think I know why. I've been avoiding it. Along with impending graduation (SEVEN WEEKS, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?) has come many retrospectives on my time spent here at the UCLA school of Arts and Architecture. What have I learned? Why have I learned what I learned? Has my art been spectacle art or spectacular art? In other words, is my art an outrageous show, or does it embody something spectacular?
This quarter I'm taking Advanced Ceramics and Senior Studio. It's kind of ironic that I'm even taking these two studios together. Why? Well, I haven't taken Ceramics since the Spring quarter of my Freshman year, and I loathed it. I mean, I really hated it. I practically threw most of my assignments away and apparently Amanda has one of them in her possession which I selectively chose to forget about. . .I told myself that I would never take it again, and here I am in my last quarter, summing up my entire artistic student career with nothing but, Ceramics. This, paired with Senior Studio -- a completely nonsensical class created upon the concept that Art "Seniors" (only the ones unlucky enough to have pushed this studio as close to their graduation as possible and have this be the only class left open for enrollment) would get together and "talk." Generally about anything and everything. In the last class we talked about why our T.A.'s eye twitches for a good while. This class is supposed to sum up what I've done here. My "mark," my "mission," my "scar." (Did anyone get that reference?) Yet -- here I am blogging to probably no one about how I'm clueless as to what those things are...
This quarter is turning out to be a lot different than I expected. I didn't expect to spend a good 35 - 40 hours in the studio, working, a week. I didn't expect to learn more about the peers in my classes and talk about more than just what's due the next week. To talk about relevant issues. Throwing on the potter's wheel turned out to be a hell of a lot more difficult than I anticipated, but also a lot more rewarding. . . I find that I'm learning a lot more about God in the process. Fascinating, right?
"But now, O LORD, thou art our father;
we are the clay, and thou our potter;
and we all are the work of thy hand."
Isaiah 64:8
I've always known this verse and this parallel metaphor, but I don't think I've ever fully understood until I've sat at the wheel myself. It always looked so easy, within a couple of minutes a block of clay turns into a mound, then a cup, then a vase, then whatever the heck the artist envisions in his/her head. But it's not that simple. Each vessel is entirely different -- because of the nature of clay itself. Clay is cold to the touch, and hardens when it becomes exposed to air, unless it is continually fed water. If it is left out for too long, it dries up and then is unworkable.
The first step of throwing is of course, centering the clay. In order to make an evenly distributed vessel, you need to know how to center, and to center, you need to know how to be still, rigid, and firm. Sounds easy? It's not! The first couple of days of class I came home dejected, confused, and sore. I let the clay control me instead of me controlling the clay. At least that's what the lab assistants kept telling me. I didn't understand -- it all seemed like some magical Jedi mind trick to me. It seemed like everyone else was arbitrarily raising the walls of their clay mounds whereas I could not even get my clay to center itself. I was lost. What was the secret that I needed to know? If I could just find that out, then I could do this! If I could just fix my posture or breathe a certain way, maybe I could finally understand the method to all this fixed madness. But there wasn't a secret code -- just practice, knowledge, and of course, the patience of a SAINT. Now, when I think about God as my potter, it completely makes sense. God is the only one that knows our nature -- the nature of clay :) He knows that if we are left alone for too long, we become hardened to His Word, and His voice. We become unworkable. However, if we are fed water from His everlasting fountain, then we are sustained. He knows that we have a tendency to fly every which way when set on the rotating wheel of life, but He remains rigid and solid, to offer us a stillness that keeps us centered. He "raises" us with patience and confidence.
I am so at peace now when I'm at the wheel. Each new mound of clay has the potential of a life of its own and I'm not afraid of guiding that existence.
I know I sound crazy and I talk too much, but if there's anything that I've learned here, it's that my God is so, so great, and I just want to know more of His beauty.
This quarter I'm taking Advanced Ceramics and Senior Studio. It's kind of ironic that I'm even taking these two studios together. Why? Well, I haven't taken Ceramics since the Spring quarter of my Freshman year, and I loathed it. I mean, I really hated it. I practically threw most of my assignments away and apparently Amanda has one of them in her possession which I selectively chose to forget about. . .I told myself that I would never take it again, and here I am in my last quarter, summing up my entire artistic student career with nothing but, Ceramics. This, paired with Senior Studio -- a completely nonsensical class created upon the concept that Art "Seniors" (only the ones unlucky enough to have pushed this studio as close to their graduation as possible and have this be the only class left open for enrollment) would get together and "talk." Generally about anything and everything. In the last class we talked about why our T.A.'s eye twitches for a good while. This class is supposed to sum up what I've done here. My "mark," my "mission," my "scar." (Did anyone get that reference?) Yet -- here I am blogging to probably no one about how I'm clueless as to what those things are...
This quarter is turning out to be a lot different than I expected. I didn't expect to spend a good 35 - 40 hours in the studio, working, a week. I didn't expect to learn more about the peers in my classes and talk about more than just what's due the next week. To talk about relevant issues. Throwing on the potter's wheel turned out to be a hell of a lot more difficult than I anticipated, but also a lot more rewarding. . . I find that I'm learning a lot more about God in the process. Fascinating, right?
"But now, O LORD, thou art our father;
we are the clay, and thou our potter;
and we all are the work of thy hand."
Isaiah 64:8
I've always known this verse and this parallel metaphor, but I don't think I've ever fully understood until I've sat at the wheel myself. It always looked so easy, within a couple of minutes a block of clay turns into a mound, then a cup, then a vase, then whatever the heck the artist envisions in his/her head. But it's not that simple. Each vessel is entirely different -- because of the nature of clay itself. Clay is cold to the touch, and hardens when it becomes exposed to air, unless it is continually fed water. If it is left out for too long, it dries up and then is unworkable.
The first step of throwing is of course, centering the clay. In order to make an evenly distributed vessel, you need to know how to center, and to center, you need to know how to be still, rigid, and firm. Sounds easy? It's not! The first couple of days of class I came home dejected, confused, and sore. I let the clay control me instead of me controlling the clay. At least that's what the lab assistants kept telling me. I didn't understand -- it all seemed like some magical Jedi mind trick to me. It seemed like everyone else was arbitrarily raising the walls of their clay mounds whereas I could not even get my clay to center itself. I was lost. What was the secret that I needed to know? If I could just find that out, then I could do this! If I could just fix my posture or breathe a certain way, maybe I could finally understand the method to all this fixed madness. But there wasn't a secret code -- just practice, knowledge, and of course, the patience of a SAINT. Now, when I think about God as my potter, it completely makes sense. God is the only one that knows our nature -- the nature of clay :) He knows that if we are left alone for too long, we become hardened to His Word, and His voice. We become unworkable. However, if we are fed water from His everlasting fountain, then we are sustained. He knows that we have a tendency to fly every which way when set on the rotating wheel of life, but He remains rigid and solid, to offer us a stillness that keeps us centered. He "raises" us with patience and confidence.
I am so at peace now when I'm at the wheel. Each new mound of clay has the potential of a life of its own and I'm not afraid of guiding that existence.
I know I sound crazy and I talk too much, but if there's anything that I've learned here, it's that my God is so, so great, and I just want to know more of His beauty.
My sister Amy took ceramics in college for her major too and had similar problems, but also similar findings about God. She did a Bible study talking about it. :)
ReplyDeleteCute picture of you and Mike!
aww what a worthwhile revelation through your major :) thanks for sharing. it really does bring such a new perspective to the metaphor!
ReplyDeleteheh, a mark, a mission, a brand, a scar :] good times
ReplyDeleteAnyways, I never really thought more deeply about the potter and clay metaphor either, but I really liked what you came up with, particularly
He knows that if we are left alone for too long, we become hardened to His Word, and His voice. We become unworkable. However, if we are fed water from His everlasting fountain, then we are sustained.
also http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v212/operatorator/Brazilian%20Cheese%20Balls%20Bergamot%20LND/DSC_0200.jpg
My sister is obsessed with owls...I think i will have to show her this
:]
looks like you're quite the excellent thrower ;)
ReplyDelete