Tangled Roots
Some pieces of art bring with them complicated feelings. Why they inspire such is beyond me, but I sense a bit of kismet from art at times. This pottery work is a good example: it arrived in my life at a time of introspection. The piece is remarkably heavy, over 3 pounds, and measures 17” x 6”. I pulled it out of a bin of clothing during a thrifting outing the other week. My friend thought it dang ugly and could not imagine buying it. I was intrigued all the same, and purchased it by weight for $4.86.
I was not sure what the work depicted when I picked it up. After scrubbing it clean, I realized it was a flower, built up with pottery on a plaque-style base. I suspect it is made with stoneware clay due to its weight. Potters use 3 main types of clay: earthenware, porcelain, and stoneware. Earthenware is often terra cotta in style. Porcelain is used for dishware and fine pieces. “Stoneware is a dense, strong, and impermeable clay that is normally only partially vitrified (fired to the point that it is not porous)…Stoneware is fired at temperatures ranging from 2,000° to 2,400° F. These high temperatures partially or completely vitrify the clay. Unlike porcelain, which is almost always white, stoneware is usually colored gray or brownish because of impurities in the clay.” (https://seattlepotterysupply.com/pages/the-types-of-pottery-clay)
My mystery potter did not sign or date the work, and I am guessing by its vibe it’s late 1970s. The sunflower design is made from a “rope” of clay, with added leaves. Overlaying the stem is a swirling vine which has broken in a number of places. Not surprising given it ended up in a bin of thrift store merchandise. The fact it survived without further damage is a testament to the density of the clay. The missing vines don’t bother me terribly, and when I showed it to Hubby he thought it remarkable (clearly I have trained him well!).
This work makes me think of the resilience of human beings and the tangled lives we build for ourselves. The internal monologues we listen to, often a product of childhood dynamics, which impact us long after those early days. Those monologues are like train tracks, laid down with shoddy materials, and yet we expect the train of our life to run smoothly on that bumpy foundation. It is no wonder people – not just me – struggle, as it is so easy to jump aboard that train. While we can see the flowers growing along the railway, we can’t stop the train to explore them, so entrenched are we in our commitment to that darn track. How that track manifests in our lives becomes the challenge – not just because addictions can take over, but because those monologues send us on painful journeys, impacting ourselves and those we love. For me, it is time to realize the clay underneath those tracks is strong, and I can skip the darn trip down the shoddy rails. Things may have chipped off, vines may have swirled around unnecessarily, but the basic foundation is made of stoneware. And dang it, I want to explore the flowers.
The analogy to this artwork is apt – it survived unknown travails along its journey. And yet none of those matter - what matters is the flower is still there, intact in its 3-dimensional glory. The vine, chipped and disconnected, still shows growth and movement. The why, where, when don’t make a damn bit of difference. Either you accept today and turn to the sun. Or you wallow in the deep history and forget that blooming takes work.