one thing i’ve been sort of surprised by is my recent propensity to process a lot of emotion through pottery.
i don’t call myself a potter, though i do frequently find myself making (admittedly mediocre) pots. i will probably anger some of my friends (as well as my graduate school primary thesis advisor – sorry Jim) when i say that the meaning i draw from pottery and vessels is somewhat limited. i find the content therein generally dissatisfying and not particularly interesting. in other words, if i gave you a list of artists whose work means a lot to me conceptually and emotionally, that list would have exactly zero ceramic artists and zero potters. sometimes my chosen material seems like an accident to me.
but i’ve been going through a lot of emotional turmoil lately, and i’ve been surprised that i’ve been dealing with it by making pots, and writing on them. writing a lot of rage on them. it’s very 16 years old of me. as i was scrawling some song lyrics onto a cup (song lyrics! i know, i know) i had a sudden cringey flashback of a giant, awkward teapot i made when i was 15 which i then adorned with Tori Amos lyrics. i mean, really?
i wrote a bit (a very little bit) about using words in visual art in my graduate thesis. but the truth is, i still don’t understand how they work, how to use them effectively and how to rangle with the semiotics of text. it’s too huge. i’ve barely begun to scratch the surface of it all, and sometimes i feel like i’ll never get to the bottom of it.
at least i have the good sense now not to try to write awful poetry when i’m sad.