Let me introduce you to “the people”, a series of characters I began working on in the winter of 2019. While challenging me to learn about forming clay, they also have given me an opportunity to use my intuition regarding “who they are”.

I work alone in my studio, unless I am hosting a class, so it’s been nice having them around during this time of physical distancing.

Where did the people come from?

Two winters ago I was in line at the fabric store, leaning on my cart, bracing for the long, cold winter that lay ahead, I noticed a shelf of kindergarten clay; the kind that dries overnight. Bingo! I had an idea (this happens to me, a lot), I’d make clay goddess heads and design and paint their clothes. Years ago, I’d worked as a clothing artist, rushing to paint the onslaught of orders filling my mailbox. In the late 80’s I had my first “success” as an artist. Then I got married, and had kids and life changed gears.

Though I ended the business, part of me always yearned to make designs on fabric, but on a much smaller scale. When I was little, my sister and I made funky and fantastical outfits for our Barbie dolls. Many hours we’d sit on the floor, surrounded by heaps of fabric scraps and scissors, cutting knee socks into evening gowns and felt into headbands. Drawing our designs with markers and cutting the armholes and necklines was easy. We were “instant gratification sewers” wanting the outfits done quickly so we could get to the real juice: the plays we would create with the characters. We collected rubber bands, barrettes, old socks, pipe cleaners, and teeny pine cones from around our house. We didn’t buy new supplies, in the early 70’s there were no big box stores. Collecting items inside and outside the house was our joy.

That day at the fabric store, as I put the clay in my cart, my entire perception of the coming winter shifted. Feeling excited to sew and decorate an 8 inch high dress, I pushed my collection of treasures toward the register. The dark winter had turned into an asset, a rich, quiet time to “dress dolls”. That same day I bought a mold that would allow me to press clay into faces, the “lazy woman’s” way to make dolls. Remember, I was mostly interested in the clothing! Immediately I created 2 trays of “goddess heads”. After a few days of making those in the trays (they were too perfect, too pretty, boring! ). I picked up a gob of clay - rolling, squeezing and pinching until it formed a head. Poking nostrils with a pencil tip, a mouth pressed in with my thumbnail. My heart pounded! They could breathe! Hee! hee! My excitement spread. Now for the eyes. I rolled and dug, adding and subtracting clay. Hello, little one ! I didn’t make the pretty, perfectly formed goddesses I’d planned, instead, a lumpy old crone with sciatica and a frown appears, then her tall, judgmental sister looking down her nose at us. Humph!, she sniffs, disapprovingly. Along comes a worried soul with ragged pants. What’s his back-story? How did he get his pants so dirty? I began referring to these beings as “dolls” . Later, my son recommended I call them “people” and that stuck. I buy clay, and mostly “find things” to adorn or give personality to each being. A smashed metal object from the road, old worn clothes, tarnished jewelry and rocks!

Recently I received a package in the mail from a cousin in South Dakota full of buffalo hide scraps. The note read, “I know you like weird stuff, so I’m sure you’ll find something to do with this”. I’d never seen buffalo fur before and it made beautiful, strange hair for a few of my beings.

So interesting to handle beads, tangled wire and scraps of handmade paper while asking the beings - what do you want? an old spoon? dried grass? a ripped glove?

Every new creation is like a “birth”and each of the “people” surprise me. I feel them. Who will I meet next? All along the process decisions have to be made - the head, the body, the clothes! It’s like telling a story. Fat or thin? Happy or sad? Confused or clear? Is the outfit made from a paper towel covered with paint wipe-ups or piece of fancy silk?

Time stops when I’m painting their faces. I’ve never worked with such small brushes. Curious who will emerge, I let myself “be led” in picking out the skin tone, hair and eye color. I don’t know who they will be before they arrive. As I photograph my “people”, I build relationships with them and a brand new one with myself. Through the camera lens I am moved by the lines on their faces and the look in their eyes. Call me crazy? Could they be self-portraits? Yes. I love the worn down, found-ness of them. Worn clothes, crooked smiles, bent backs. Why do I keep creating them? Perhaps the empty nest syndrome? These characters appeared around the time my kids were graduating from college. Some of my nurturing energy is channeled into the creation of each spirit. They have stories to tell. I’m a writer, so stay tuned to hear their back-stories as they emerge over time.