Frustrating Friday Fulminations
Clearly I jumped off the jazz bandwagon this morning. i slept in!!! 6:15. WOOO HOOO. I guess that is sort of my mood at the moment. Woo the &@*#&@* hoo. I have work that I need to finish up in the next few hours, and I will, but am at a standstill. And feeling like I'm some sort of bizarre pogo stick bouncing around a bit.
That's the kicker isn't it. Nothing bad has happened. I actually threw work in a way that I never have before and for the first round it's coming out really well. I know if I have to make a bunch of these they will tighten up so much.
I guess it's feeling like my ability is questioned or doubted. That gets under my skin. One of the lovely and aggravating things about me is how bullheadedly I can go forward with things. When I had a head injury (I had a severe head injury when I was 20- had 2 subdural hematomas, a TIA, a wee bit of permanent damage to my left frontal hemisphere, nerve damage in my left leg, benign proximital positional vertigo, and lost my sense of smell. that may sort of be coming back or i'm pretending it is with good 'ol reliable synesthesia. Phew, this whole blog thing really is making me come clean about personal experiences/demons). Well when I had that injury I wanted so badly to just be fine. I'm fine, I'm fine, I had a crack in my skull. The fact that my muscles had atrophied and I had double vision. pffft. no problem. I would walk I would see I would be fine. That was my mantra. And often that is my mantra. If I need to do it I will. I will be fine. I will be. Stubbornness and determination.
Most of the time I can do what I set out to do. But when I start to doubt if I can I begin to hole myself off and develop bad and destructive habits. And always when I am starting a new project with things I haven't done before there is always a part of me that does question if I can. Theoretically, it's in the bag. But. I have not made that bag before. Can I do it? Or I question why I can do this with ease. Often when I'm throwing and I get overly cocky pooof! my piece collapses. And when I start to question if I can actually make something as I've drawn it that makes my hands shaky, me self conscious, and my actions jilted. I lose the cool serenity I often can work with. And THEN. Oh man, and then I start to think/wonder if I really drank the kool aid and am just a fucking lunatic to even consider that I could make a successful go of being a practicing artisan and ever be able to support myself without financial assistance. And then I wonder well double fuck, I am an artist with some permanent brain damage, a recovering alcoholic with ever tingling/hurting feet/calves since I drank myself into neuropathy, artist with anxiety, starting her own business and living with my parents to do so and feel I have WHAT??? to offer the world........... Yup. And then I am truly, truly fucked.
I have tried not to curse at all while writing this blog and will continue to try not to, but exceptions must be made at times. I am not depressed. Those are facts. Some of it I did to myself and some of it was from a freak accident and some a genetic inheritance. Nor, for any of you who are actually reading this, I am NOT asking for a pity party. No. No. No. What I normally would do is say to myself or write in this blog. "But the wonderful thing is that I really love what I am doing, even the parts I don't love I enjoy doing for the most part. I am getting great reactions to my work, developing a proficiency on the wheel I never expected to have, am continually finding ways to re-challenge myself and keep growing, meet new and interesting people from the groups I'm involved with and have the flexibility that I can take the time to really make Mobius work. I don't have to worry quite so much about the bottom line. Give myself the good reliable pep talk and smile and make bad jokes.
A part of me is doing/just did that, but another part of me also has to look at this rationally and tell myself that I am going out on a limb. It is normal to worry that you feel it creaking a bit. This is a big undertaking in many a way and if you weren't worried that would be something to worry about. I will turn it into a game. What can you make? What does the clay want to be? Faberge was nutso so you can go nutso. Here is your homework assignment and...GO! It's a game. Can you build 6 different Faberge teacups in a day for a client as test macquettes? What names would you give them and why? Make it fun. Can you do it? Who the hell knows. But you can do something. So go forth young maker and see where the porcelain takes you! Embrace what it does give you! Success? Sweet!!! Failure? What went wrong and how can I incorporate this into my tool belt of skills. My potter pores are protecting with pretty porcelain and pervading my precious perception with pure pride & pleasure. So please, procreate playful, perverse, and pleasing pots.
Aka I may fuck up. But I will have some fun and get dirty in the process.