=?iso-8859-1?q?Katie=20Ellis?= on mon 21 apr 03
I could use a little ‘clayart input’ on this...
My first piece is part of a gallery show featuring art
by 15-19 year olds. The display is called "Fresh
Art", and the opening was Friday night. I didn’t
really know what to expect when I arrived at the
opening...just excited to see what other people my age
have been up to, and to eavesdrop on various
conversations to hear people say what they really
thought of my piece. I was excited, and I suppose the
experience was good, but...
One of my art teachers asked me what it was like to
see my teapot/cups displayed so nicely in the gallery.
I told him it was strange to see them somewhere else
besides the dusty table in the backroom, but
truthfully, I hated it.
There were so many different types of art on display
(i.e. LOTS of photography, painting, etc..), I felt
like my piece was just in one big competition with all
the others, and it was up to the general public to
decide it’s worth in the three seconds it took their
eyes to glance over it. Why do people have to pass
judgement on everything before they leave it alone?
Why can’t we just look at something and appreciate it
for what it is, instead of having to compare it to
everything else around it? I understand how valuable
opinion can be, but when is it TOO much? People
compare their bodies to the bodies of airbrushed
models...and we end up with thousand of anorexic and
bulimic people. America compares itself to other
countries, and we take it upon ourselves to pass
judgment on if a foreign system is as ‘effective’ as
ours, and we end up with war. Why can’t things just
be taken in and accepted? Some things are not better,
not worse, just different.
A group of adults came in during the show; two of them
were the parents of another teenager who had some
photography on display. Instantly, the parents
started in on how their daughter was a genius, and how
she was so gifted, and on and on. Her art was good,
I’m not denying that, but we do what we do. We are
who we are. What we do and who we are in no way makes
us better than anyone else. My deepest goal is to
devote my life to dirt. And that’s the gospel truth.
I just want to be a potter. I have so much to learn,
and so far to go. Looking at my pot on display for
the entire world to see just made me want to hide it
somewhere and try again to make a better one.
Why do we turn everything into a competition?
Everyone wants to be "the best", get the highest
grade, beat everyone else. When will people start
worrying about doing THEIR best, about doing things to
their ability? Sophomores at my school are taking a
ton of state testing this week. What is the point?
People don’t think the same, don’t excel in the same
area, so why expect them to? Grades and test scores
in no way reflect a person’s level of intelligence.
This may seem harsh, but in my opinion, a 4.0 is just
another way of saying that you can conform.
Where does it stop? Where does the competition end?
What are we competing for? Why can’t art be
appreciated and discussed without being labeled and
judged? I understand the danger of not being able to
disern between good and evil..but when is too much?
Why can’t something be appreciated without being put
into a category? Does my opinion on appreciating all
art make me opinion-less?
Now I’ve confused myself even more. I hope you all
understand what I’m trying to ask...because now I’m
not even sure if I know…
~katie
too confused to even write anything after her name..
_________________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Información de Estados Unidos y América Latina, en Yahoo! Noticias.
Visítanos en http://noticias.espanol.yahoo.com
Phil Smith on tue 22 apr 03
Keep your chin up Katie!
There is an article written by Paul Soldner Titled "Without Laws"
that might make you feel better.
http://www.paulsoldner.com/writings/Without.html
Phil...
Linda Christen on tue 22 apr 03
Hi Katie,
It sounds as if you are doing a lot of thinking about life, why things
are the way they are and do they have to be that way. My son is a
freshman in high school and I think beginning to have many of these same
thoughts. I suspect that the current state of the world has served to
heighten these concerns. Some people think about these things, I think
they are the lucky ones. However, sometimes the luck of being a
thoughtful person carries with it the burden of being so aware. I am
quite a bit older than you, yet still working on many of these same
concerns.
Last year I read: No Contest: The Case Against Competition by Alfie
Kohn. I think this book would help you to clarify many of your feelings
about competition and what it is doing to our society and to
individuals. Currently I'm reading: For a Future to Be Possible by
Thich Nhat Hanh. I've also just started an often recommended on clayart
book: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. I
think that they will each help with clarifying how to live life.
"Competitiveness...creates easily aroused envy towards the stronger
ones, contempt for the weaker, distrust towards everyone...so the
satisfaction and reassurance which one can get out of human relations
are limited and the individual becomes more or less emotionally
isolated." (P.140 No Contest)
Linda Christen
In cold, rainy Massachusetts, but it is good for the two Scotch Pines we
planted yesterday...
I could use a little 'clayart input' on this...
One of my art teachers asked me what it was like to
see my teapot/cups displayed so nicely in the gallery.
I told him it was strange to see them somewhere else
besides the dusty table in the backroom, but
truthfully, I hated it.
I felt
like my piece was just in one big competition with all
the others, and it was up to the general public to
decide it's worth in the three seconds it took their
eyes to glance over it. Why do people have to pass
judgement on everything before they leave it alone?
Why can't we just look at something and appreciate it
for what it is, instead of having to compare it to
everything else around it? I understand how valuable
opinion can be, but when is it TOO much? People
compare their bodies to the bodies of airbrushed
models...and we end up with thousand of anorexic and
bulimic people. America compares itself to other
countries, and we take it upon ourselves to pass
judgment on if a foreign system is as 'effective' as
ours, and we end up with war. Why can't things just
be taken in and accepted? Some things are not better,
not worse, just different.
Why do we turn everything into a competition?
Everyone wants to be "the best", get the highest
grade, beat everyone else.
People don't think the same, don't excel in the same
area, so why expect them to? Grades and test scores
in no way reflect a person's level of intelligence.
This may seem harsh, but in my opinion, a 4.0 is just
another way of saying that you can conform.
Where does it stop? Where does the competition end?
What are we competing for? Why can't art be
appreciated and discussed without being labeled and
judged?
Now I've confused myself even more. I hope you all
understand what I'm trying to ask...because now I'm
not even sure if I know.
~katie
too confused to even write anything after her name..
Hank Murrow on tue 22 apr 03
On Monday, April 21, 2003, at 08:31 PM, Katie Ellis wrote:
> Where does it stop? Where does the competition end?
> What are we competing for? Why can=92t art be
> appreciated and discussed without being labeled and
> judged? I understand the danger of not being able to
> disern between good and evil..but when is too much?
> Why can=92t something be appreciated without being put
> into a category? Does my opinion on appreciating all
> art make me opinion-less?
>
> Now I=92ve confused myself even more. I hope you all
> understand what I=92m trying to ask...because now I=92m
> not even sure if I know=85
> ~katie
> too confused to even write anything after her name..
Dear Katie;
I have been working in clay for 46 years now, and your issues cause me=20=
difficulty even now at times. I recommend to you two books that altered=20=
all my perceptions surrounding your questions.
The first was, "The Gift" by Lewis Hyde, the poet. His book explains=20
that we have received a Gift of our clay sensibility, and we long to=20
return this Gift amplified by our efforts to the Source from which it=20
came. Buying and selling are secondary artifacts for artists. The last=20=
chapter is particularly apropos.
The second is, "The Hand" by neurologist Frank Wilson, who places the=20
use of the human hand in historical and developmental contexts with a=20
rare grace. He interviews jugglers, violinists, hot rodders,=20
Feldenkreis practitioners, and mountain climbers to discover the gifts=20=
that use of the hands have generated in them. You will be elucidated=20
and comforted by his book.
Lastly, I would relate a personal experience. All through my school=20
years I avoided direct competition. I took up skiing, pole vault, and=20
other solitary pursuits instead. When I was thirty-five, I discovered a=20=
passion for doubles volleyball, played on deep sand courts by only two=20=
people per side. A lot of court to cover, but guaranteeing a soft=20
landing. I was initially (as a beginner) always served the ball as the=20=
weaker player. I dreaded receiving the serve from these strong players.
One day, during a tournament in which I expected to lose in the iirst=20
round, I had a sudden clear vision that I should be expecting the ball=20=
to be served to me. In fact, I should relish the attention of the other=20=
player serving me. In fact he WAS serving me, giving me every chance to=20=
receive the ball and get better at it. I found that immediately after=20
having this Satori, I began to return the ball to my partner, who(given=20=
a good pass) would set me up for the spike to the other side of the=20
net. No matter how hard or curving the serve they threw at me, I was=20
magically able to get to the ball, and often to pass it to my partner.=20=
In short, I realized that competition can be seen as cooperative=20
training and teaching, if hard on the ego at times. Anyway, this=20
transcendent lesson has pervaded my life now, and helps me 'compete' in=20=
the world of art in creative ways.
Best of Luck in your search,
Hank in Eugene=
Arnold Howard on tue 22 apr 03
Hank's excellent comment on competition reminds me of Tim Gallwey's
"inner game" book series. The ones I've read and highly recommend:
The Inner Game of Golf
The Inner Game of Tennis
The Inner Game of Skiing
I don't play any of those sports, but I studied the books because they
teach how to tap a higher level of skill that goes beyond conscious
ability. You can use that in any type of activity.
Gallwey describes competition the same way Hank does. It can be viewed
as a form of training.
Sincerely,
Arnold Howard
Paragon
From: Hank Murrow
One day, during a tournament in which I expected to lose in the iirst
round, I had a sudden clear vision that I should be expecting the ball
to be served to me. In fact, I should relish the attention of the other
player serving me. In fact he WAS serving me, giving me every chance to
receive the ball and get better at it. I found that immediately after
having this Satori, I began to return the ball to my partner, who(given
a good pass) would set me up for the spike to the other side of the
net. No matter how hard or curving the serve they threw at me, I was
magically able to get to the ball, and often to pass it to my partner.
In short, I realized that competition can be seen as cooperative
training and teaching, if hard on the ego at times. Anyway, this
transcendent lesson has pervaded my life now, and helps me 'compete' in
the world of art in creative ways.
Hank in Eugene
Elizabeth Hewitt on wed 23 apr 03
I've appreciated the discussion in response to Katie's "confusion". I'm
lots older than Katie, in my early 60's to be exact...almost ;-) and I
still struggle with all those confusing and conflicting feelings. I
still consider myself a rather new potter but I don't expect to ever
"arrive" but continue to question it all.
Someone mentioned the selling of pieces as another area of confusion and
conflict. I seem to have struggled with that one from all sides. The
first piece I sold, I experienced such a let down. The feeling was..."I
put my heart and soul into this piece and all I got for it was.....
money?" It felt like selling one of my kids on some lesser lever. I'm
sure if one needed to sell the pieces for a living or otherwise, they
might think differently. Selling hasn't been my focus. It took me a lot
of years to realize that it isn't the selling of art that makes one an
artist but the creating of art.
I recently entered some pieces in a show for the first time. When I got
my rejection notice...I felt disappointed for about five minutes and
then I felt relieved that my pieces wouldn't be put through the scrutiny
that Katie described. One of our Clayart members whom I met recently and
have been communicating with put some of that in perspective for me and
had prepared me nicely for the rejection. She said that when she had
viewed pieces in a show in which hers had been rejected, she went home,
looked at her pieces and asked herself how she might change her pieces
or style so that they'd be acceptable and decided right then that she
would not change her style for any show. I have not picked up my pieces
from the museum yet but when I do, I'll be glad to see them and get them
back home safely. They are no less special to me because they were not
judged worthy of being displayed in this particular show. I will enjoy
going to the opening reception to see what was accepted but just for the
fun of viewing them.
I think Katie's confusion and questioning are healthy. I think it shows
her sense of wonder, her passion for her work, and her teachable spirit.
May you never cease to question, Katie. When we allow room to
wonder...we allow room for growth.
Elizabeth
Mildred Herot on wed 23 apr 03
I rarely respond to the mail but you did hit a interior note for me. I
happen to be a lot older than you Elizabeth, as I am pushing 78 and still
have the need to work with my hands. I have exhibited in juried shows (as a
sculptor) and frankly, getting in is nice and getting rejected hurts.
However, I believe you learn more from the rejections than the acceptances
since I truly feel that brains are located in your rear end and a kick there
makes you think. I think it's important to examine your work after a
rejection and try to figure out why it was turned down and, perhaps by
viewing it in a different light, learn. The most important process is
learning. Sometimes it's good to put your work away and not look at it for
several months. You get a "fresh eye" that way. Anyway, keep working away
and I'm ssure that if you do, one day you will "arrive"......Mildred Herot,
Cheltenham, Pa.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Elizabeth Hewitt"
To:
Sent: Wednesday, April 23, 2003 12:16 AM
Subject: Re: Shows/Discernment/and utter confusion...(long)
> I've appreciated the discussion in response to Katie's "confusion". I'm
> lots older than Katie, in my early 60's to be exact...almost ;-) and I
> still struggle with all those confusing and conflicting feelings. I
> still consider myself a rather new potter but I don't expect to ever
> "arrive" but continue to question it all.
>
> Someone mentioned the selling of pieces as another area of confusion and
> conflict. I seem to have struggled with that one from all sides. The
> first piece I sold, I experienced such a let down. The feeling was..."I
> put my heart and soul into this piece and all I got for it was.....
> money?" It felt like selling one of my kids on some lesser lever. I'm
> sure if one needed to sell the pieces for a living or otherwise, they
> might think differently. Selling hasn't been my focus. It took me a lot
> of years to realize that it isn't the selling of art that makes one an
> artist but the creating of art.
>
> I recently entered some pieces in a show for the first time. When I got
> my rejection notice...I felt disappointed for about five minutes and
> then I felt relieved that my pieces wouldn't be put through the scrutiny
> that Katie described. One of our Clayart members whom I met recently and
> have been communicating with put some of that in perspective for me and
> had prepared me nicely for the rejection. She said that when she had
> viewed pieces in a show in which hers had been rejected, she went home,
> looked at her pieces and asked herself how she might change her pieces
> or style so that they'd be acceptable and decided right then that she
> would not change her style for any show. I have not picked up my pieces
> from the museum yet but when I do, I'll be glad to see them and get them
> back home safely. They are no less special to me because they were not
> judged worthy of being displayed in this particular show. I will enjoy
> going to the opening reception to see what was accepted but just for the
> fun of viewing them.
>
> I think Katie's confusion and questioning are healthy. I think it shows
> her sense of wonder, her passion for her work, and her teachable spirit.
>
>
> May you never cease to question, Katie. When we allow room to
> wonder...we allow room for growth.
>
> Elizabeth
>
>
____________________________________________________________________________
__
> Send postings to clayart@lsv.ceramics.org
>
> You may look at the archives for the list or change your subscription
> settings from http://www.ceramics.org/clayart/
>
> Moderator of the list is Mel Jacobson who may be reached at
melpots@pclink.com.
Elizabeth Hewitt on thu 24 apr 03
Mildred said:
>>>>However, I believe you learn more from the rejections than the
acceptances
since I truly feel that brains are located in your rear end and a kick
there
makes you think. I think it's important to examine your work after a
rejection and try to figure out why it was turned down and, perhaps by
viewing it in a different light, learn. The most important process is
learning. Sometimes it's good to put your work away and not look at it
for
several months. You get a "fresh eye" that way. <<<
Thank you for your thoughts. I'm sure that timing and circumstances are
crucial to the way we respond to rejection. The first entry and
rejection in a large show doesn't seem the time for me to take a hard
look at my work through the eyes of one judge. Since I've been a potter
for such a relatively short period of time and am self taught, the
little voice inside me saying, "Go this way" is still speaking very
loud. And I'm still trusting it. Learning to ignore external voices
directing me has been a big help in keeping me on course. The book Art
and Fear has been affirming. Sculpting is among my earliest memories as
a small child. I've spend five years very focused on the technical end
of pottery and learning the skills of throwing, etc. Recently I have
begun to hear the little voice directing me back in the direction of
sculpting....and sculpting thrown pieces. It's a glorious venture we're
on. I've never experienced anything so gratifying in my entire life.
Thank you again,
Elizabeth
http://
photos.yahoo.com/myhandsinclay
John Jensen on thu 24 apr 03
Katie;
I've been following this discussion for a few days ago. For all the
fine opinions and perceptions that have been offered, it seems your
original point has been overlooked to some small extent.
I might be missing your point, but it seemed you were wondering why it
was not possible to enjoy individual artworks without comparing and
judging them against one another. It seems to me that you as an
individual can do just that thing that you advocate, and that seems fine
and wonderful to me. As you move from one art piece to another you are
moving from one vision, one world, one conception to another. And I
don't see any need to judge one better or more worthwhile than another,
though I would guess that you'd find that you did make judgments and
form preferences: It seems to be part of our human and cultural nature
to make judgments, comparisons, and have preferences. As artists, in the
end, we have to make a large number of discernments and judgments about
works, including and especially our own.
I think maybe many of us have gone too far in the direction of
judgment and have neglected the ability to simply enjoy and appreciate
what is before our eyes. If so, that is lamentable; but I doubt very
much that you will be able change that characteristic in society. But if
you do, I suspect, it will be through your work.
Spouting off...maybe missing the point, too.
John Jensen, Mudbug Pottery
mudbug@toadhouse.com , http://www.toadhouse.com
Ned Ludd on thu 24 apr 03
Hi Arnold
> Gallwey describes competition the same way Hank does. It can be
> viewed as a form of training.
***
I read this and remembered my apprenticeship at a busy production
workshop in England. I already had a year of employment at a small
pottery, fresh out of art school, but took the pay cut (to zero,
after rent was paid) for the great learning experience. As well, we
got to work with some darn good British potters associated with it:
Peter Starkey, David Leach, Michael Casson, Marianne Haile and Derek
Emms, whose beautiful and superbly functional teapots still challenge
me. But the point I want to make regards your quote, above, from
Gallwey: Competition as a form of training.
During my time at this pottery, we went from four potters to seven in
total. Most were apprentices, but some came straight from college
ceramics depts. and quickly got up to speed. Here's the nub: working
alongside each other speeded up our potter-learning incredibly fast.
This was largely thanks to a competitive spirit.
How could you avoid drawing valid conclusions when, all the throwers
starting on the wheel at the same time, after an hour you'd see this
potter had three big, neat-arrayed boards of fine mugs, and that one
- maybe me, omigosh! - had two of merely passables? You didn't want
to be the runner up, so you worked all the harder to get better.
Nobody had to tell you to do better, all you did was look around, and
get it.
We learned in that intensive environment like we were grabbing
mastery from the air.
This implicit - and friendly - competition to keep improving was a
form of training that only a team could provide. Teamwork made for a
greenhouse effect on growing our craft skills. I'm not exaggerating:
one or two weeks in this kind of pottery can teach more craft skill
than a year at even a good art school.
In the West, where nowadays do you find such team potteries, ones
that have not become industrial?
I am thinking of Alan Caiger Smith's Aldermaston, Ray Finch's
Winchcombe, Cardew's Wenford Bridge, Leach's St Ives. They did MUCH
more than make pots. In the last century they made many of the best
craft potters in Britain.
I miss the convivial pleasure and satisfaction of potters' shared
achievement of that time. It went by so fast.
Afterwards, as a journeyman, I moved on into a professional world
where it seems every potter, solo or not, wants to be the exclusive
star of his/her own show. My eyes roll at the memory of being given
a few hours off at a western Canada pottery because the photographer
from ***** Magazine was coming. (Translation: "I don't want them to
know I don't do it all myself, so buzz off Ned.")
The more I work with clay, the more I'm coming to the view that my
whole career is a sham. A sham like the Trojan Horse was a sham. It's
supposed to be about the work of making pots and about making the
dough and the frills, right?
Then why do I have this subversive voice in my head whispering that
all along it's really been about working to become the kind of man I
want to be?
yeah, I know... hopelessly late getting there
Ned
"You don't have to be right. All you have to do is be candid." -Allen Ginsberg
----------------
Arnold Howard wrote:
>Hank's excellent comment on competition reminds me of Tim Gallwey's
>"inner game" book series. The ones I've read and highly recommend:
>
>The Inner Game of Golf
>The Inner Game of Tennis
>The Inner Game of Skiing
>
>I don't play any of those sports, but I studied the books because they
>teach how to tap a higher level of skill that goes beyond conscious
>ability. You can use that in any type of activity.
>
>Gallwey describes competition the same way Hank does. It can be viewed
>as a form of training.
>
>Sincerely,
>
>Arnold Howard
>Paragon
>
>From: Hank Murrow
>One day, during a tournament in which I expected to lose in the iirst
>round, I had a sudden clear vision that I should be expecting the ball
>to be served to me. In fact, I should relish the attention of the other
>player serving me. In fact he WAS serving me, giving me every chance to
>receive the ball and get better at it. I found that immediately after
>having this Satori, I began to return the ball to my partner, who(given
>a good pass) would set me up for the spike to the other side of the
>net. No matter how hard or curving the serve they threw at me, I was
>magically able to get to the ball, and often to pass it to my partner.
>In short, I realized that competition can be seen as cooperative
>training and teaching, if hard on the ego at times. Anyway, this
>transcendent lesson has pervaded my life now, and helps me 'compete' in
>the world of art in creative ways.
>Hank in Eugene
| |
|
