Except for six hours in March in a few days between rough patches, 18 months out of the studio passed before I returned in November to work again. In the pandemic that was still raging then and barely better now (when will there be enough vaccine doses for all in the US, and when will the infrastructure be in place to distribute it properly?), my studio was once again my place of purpose and refuge. Most of the time over the last 35 years, my studio has been the place of contemplation and exploration. Down the stairs to the studio, passing pots I’ve made on my downstairs gallery shelves, I finally went back to work. My daughter calls this my vocation. It is what I am called to do, where my heart is.
I began again by sitting down in my workspace and looking around the studio. In the end I began by making some order. The place had accumulated odds and ends in its period of disuse. There were bits of paper with ideas and sketches, and bits of objects that inspired me with shape, texture or function. I piled things there all year on my way to somewhere else in the basement. Ceramics magazines and books with no home were piled up on my work table; at least, if I could not work, I read. Small this-and-that had accumulated on the wheel that stands right next to the door where I had deposited them on the fly. But mostly, as my studio does after it is unused for a while (and this was a very long while), it had a very dusty and forlorn air. It is this sad air that I got up and began to clear away.
In those many months when I could not lift, push or pull clay without putting my surgical areas at risk, I made a decision. The gallery space next to my studio is full of bowls, cups, serving baskets and plates, and also plenty of one-off creations that I no longer want to choose to make. So now, I stepped into making into really focused work. There are certainly potters who specialize in various religious wares, making church/synagogue/mosque ware (goblets, patens, etc; objects with Biblical or Koranic passages written or carved on them; tiles for architectural details in places or worship; or Christmas ornaments; or Chanukah menorahs, or decorative pieces for people’s homes. I decided to go with my heart and create the niche market that embraces the religious life I live within, and making vessels I would like to own.
A professional potter does not need to please all of the people. Even if the objects they create look simple and everyday, they are still luxuries. We are not obliged to make mugs and storage crocks since these are no longer essential. Plastic and glass are eminently practical. Machine made dishes often weight less and stack better. Since we make wares that appeal to a specific few, a relatively tiny few, we need to choose what we will make. I am choosing to make the bulk of my work for a very small niche indeed. Everyday objects and holiday objects of Judaica, they will run the gamut from costing relatively little to costing more than the average user of Judaica will want to spend on a handmade Seder plate or Chanukah menorah. I don’t mind. My buyers are an even smaller group than that.
My first pots, though, were NOT Judaica. I made garlic keepers, simply because my still-weak muscles could handle the 1-l b pieces of clay they require. Anyone who keeps garlic in the kitchen can use one of these. They retail at $35-$40. They are not Judaica. They are Everyoneica. They did not tax my healing body especially, being only one lb of clay for the body plus a bit more for the lid. They were made to test my capability in the studio.
Having made those and been quite happy that nothing hurt particularly, I looked around the studio with the hope that I could now begin making what I planned. I had in fact already begun before my year of illness, and already made bisqueware Judaica awaited me. I began to rinse dusty bisqued pots and wax their feet/bottom surfaces in preparation for long-awaited glazing. I glazed these patient pots and fired them in my kiln to the finish. (I think I’ve shrunk during my hiatus; I had to stretch a bit painfully far down into the kiln.)
Two-handled washing cup.
Challah/bread basket.
Textured matzah plate; these are coming up next.
I refined my to-do list. It contains 23 objects I will continue to make going forward, all useful as Judaica but some also translatable as non-Judaic items. Challah baskets are serving baskets for rolls or bread, or something else. Unless they have been specifically lettered, kiddush goblets are also just goblets, any way you look at it. A Seder plate is a Seder plate, of course, but a matzah plate, without calligraphy, is also simply a large, handmade plate with character. I will market my work as seems appropriate.
So: two-handled washing cups, havdalah sets, kiddush goblets, candlesticks, challah baskets (aka serving baskets), Seder plates and matzah plates, keilim sheniim (aka pint size creamers), and about fifteen more are on my to-do list. And for the most part, tableware is not, though pieces might pop up now and again just for a change. (Although- I am making my daughter and son in law some dinnerware.)
And before everything else, I donned am N95 mask and packed the hand and surface sanitizers, and I flew to Canada to visit my daughter and her husband and baby. I needed to spend real time instead of virtual time and to stock up on sorely missed hugs. Over the 17-day visit, all of it but one day was spent in quarantine (it’s still Covid-time!) with them, I stocked up on long-missed hugs and in-person conversation at last with my child and her family. Now I am truly content in my mind at last knowing my body can handle the work ahead again, I came home fortified with hugs, I have a plan, and the game is afoot.