Friday Folderols


Ive been thinking a lot about authenticity. Good lord, that makes me feel like im back in grad school. But seriously, that has been what has been "eating at my craw."  

I wish I coukd better define the nuances I am perplexed, curious, bugged, baffled, impelled to further examine. Its tri fold. Something I always wonder in regards to my work, and doubts I often have of a career as an artist, maker, artisan, craftsman. I love it enough to plow through, but always ask why why why why why. 

Ive also started thinking about in terms of me. My authentic self. Realizing things I thought were x are actually y. That is indeed baffling. When dos that transition happen? Has it always been that way? If I find my authentic self does that negate all I have done thinking I was being authentic, when in fact I was not?

Maybe I am living in 50 shades of gray, sans s&m. And it is that difference between burnt umber and raw umber I am musing about. (Raw umber is my favorite.) Then it is a color in the warm tone vs the cool tone. Can something so trivial seeming actually be complex enough to ponder for long lengths of time?

I dont know. And perhaps I never will know. But I am enjoying the asking. Right now my drawings are becoming really important to me. They are my mind maps in a way. Obsessive repetitive markings that I find a calmness in. A part if me wants to tattoo my whole back with them, but then Id have to choose one.  ive tried to think of all the ways I can incorporate them with the same ease and grace jnto my clay. I havent yet found what "clicks." Ive thought about printing decals of them, but then that somehow does not seem authentic. It seems to cheapen the purity of the srawingsz. But etching a replica of them also feels wrong. And then, if it feels wrong to me but looks beautiful to others can I sell it? Questions questions that loop around. Answes do get found. Or one gets tired of living in 50 shades and says take back the whip and handcuffs, i just want the comfort of missionary.  

So tomorrow I crack open granny and see how the bisque looks and get to know my babies again and figure out what they want to become next. 

Christina Osheim