Mud, Music, Love, Laughter documents the journey of a talented young ceramic artist determined to make a living off her artwork. Adjusting to her post-marital life by working with clay, she learns to love and laugh again. This column follows her as she takes a nontraditional approach to changing her career.
For those unsure of how to make an unconventional transition into the art world, Mud, Music, Love, Laughter serves as a real world, How-To story. No one knows, the ending or whether the decisions made by the artist are the best, but she is a student of the ceramic arts community that plans on achieving her goals. There is no formula to her approach, as it adapts everyday. However there is one thing that will never fail and that is her persistence.
“Keep in mind I am an artist and I am sensitive about my ish!” – Erykah BaduThis statement has been hard to accept and it has crippled me beyond measure. It is time that I work towards the person I really want to be—an artist. For the past four years it felt like I was stuck in the closet. Living in denial, telling myself that the occasional freelance job was enough. Well it wasn’t and it will never be. I don’t recall the day that my cosmetic bag replaced my sketchbook in my purse but today is the day that the sketchbook returns.
I still remember the first time I learned how to paint. It was using one of those elementary watercolor paint sets and my father taught me how to paint a pink rose. He showed me how to finesse the brush in such a way that the pedals emerged from the white spaces on the paper. Starting light and using very little paint and water at a time, letting it dry, to only paint another layer of color. It was magic!
He taught me patience and discretion.
Only now that I am older, do I realize I was on the right track throughout my childhood. I wore my passion on my sleeve and was eager to develop my artistic skills. Somewhere this got lost between falling in love, getting married and planning a future. Fast-forward a couple years later I am forced to face the reality that my life lacks passion. I had to start somewhere. That somewhere was with mud.
Painting came easy but mud was temperamental. It was an unfamiliar medium. But I am no stranger to working with my hands or to a challenge. I had made up my mind that I was going to do this. So I might as well get into the practice of saying “I am an artist”.
The first couple times I said it, boy, were those words heavy.
You are an artist? Well, can I see your work? Not knowing how to honestly answer this question, led me to Step One: Create the work.
How can I be an artist without any work?
I’ve got talent but I need inspiration.
Step One—hurdle one.
Here I am, three years shy of thirty, divorced and searching for inspiration. I might as well pack it up and go home. And it was in that sentence that I found my inspiration—Home. It was always the contingency plan. The question was, “Was I truly ready for island life again?” And despite my sad state, the answer was “No.” I wasn’t ready but I sure could really use some island inspiration right now. Sketchbook meet coral reefs.
That night I sketched like a mad woman. I was going to create art out of mud. Music blasting from the speakers, I could breathe. I was alive. Rejuvenated.
Much luv until next week... peace :)P.S. Following suit... jump up in the air and stay there! OOOOoooo! Booty don't know how to keep still to this joint.