The Artist Question

I have always struggled with the question of being an artist. I know clay has been with me for a long time, but I never saw myself as a capital A Artist. Part of it was because I do not really like to paint. I can do it when I need to. I can use it as a practice and I understand how it works for other people. But painting for joy has almost never been my place. I think I would need a large empty studio, huge canvases, complete freedom and a very specific mood to even consider it. And to be honest I never had the motivation to organize my life around those conditions.

Pottery arrived differently. It has everything I need without trying to be anything else. It requires skill, imagination, strategic thinking and meticulous planning, but it also leaves room for surprise, error and intuition. Clay can fail you at any point. It can keep you humble. It asks for your body and your mind. You have to be centered and grounded when you sit at the wheel. You need patience, grit, persistence and resilience to stay with it when the clay collapses, cracks or dries too fast. Pottery is both a challenge and a companion. It caught my attention and somehow never let go.

I sometimes think clay is the perfect medium for my ADHD brain. It gives me structure and chaos at the same time. It keeps me physically busy and mentally engaged. It offers something new to learn every single day and it has held my interest for decades. And after all these years I am still in awe of what it can give to people. A sense of calm, a feeling of creation, the magic of turning mud into something useful and beautiful. Whether or not I can draw, paint or make a perfect sketch on command, the clay reminds me that I am an artist in the way that matters to me. And that is enough.