TIMETABLE
Art Show at Tama One Gallery
A year ago, late last September, I met a friend in Point Reyes for a picnic and walk and then headed over to a small gallery and shop called Tama One in the neighboring tiny town of Olema to check out an art show. It was the last day to catch Holly Bobisuthi’s jewelry and brass work and it was stunning. What I loved most about the art displayed was the craftsmanship and mixed functional work alongside sculptural components. After we walked out, my friend encouraged me to follow up and reach out to the gallery owner about showing my own work there. I agreed that it would be a great fit, but I was shy about it. After a week or so, I changed my mind and decided to email Gabrielle. Nothing to lose, right? I didn’t hear back and didn’t really think much about it.
Seven months later an email came through my inbox and it was Gabrielle apologizing for the delay and and we scheduled a studio visit. I had completely forgotten about it and was pleasantly surprised when she responded. One thing lead to another and I currently have a solo art show up through the month of October, one year after reaching out.
The opening reception was this past Saturday and it was a wonderful gathering on a gorgeous afternoon. The day was warm and absolutely delightful. I felt very seen, loved and supported by everyone who came to see my work. The unpretentious space is cozy with lovely natural light shining in through tall narrow windows.
If you’re in the Bay Area and would like to see the work, TIMETABLE is up for several weeks. Gallery hours are Thurs-Sun from 12:30-5:30pm, or by appointment. I plan on having a closing event (most likely a “show & tell”) on November 2nd.
I’m really proud to have put this all together and couldn’t have done it alone. Many people were involved in various capacities and am so grateful for the help I received. Putting together a solo show is not a solo endeavor and over the years I’ve had countless conversations with other artists about the work I make. The encouragement and dialogue with friends and creative folk is what makes something like this possible. To refine your creative output is a privilege and although I make things alone in my studio, I’m never really just by myself.
There’s a lot of work on display—28 tabletop ceramic sets, 7 ceramic wall pieces and 13 photographs! Everything is for sale (except for one piece) and it feels so good to have it all in one beautiful space. This is the first time my silver gelatin prints are in the same room as my ceramics and it was important for me to see how they speak to each other. At home, the photos live in an archival storage box in a cabinet in my living room, while all things clay related stay in the garage. The studio is far too dirty and dusty for me to bring anything made on paper. Intellectually, I know they are complementary, but until they were displayed together did they really make sense to me.
When Gabrielle was over for a studio visit earlier this spring, we talked about who I could show with for a possible two-person show. After a bit of reflection, I suggested images I developed and printed in the darkroom could be the perfect pairing to the clay work on the table. I’ve never shown photographs in an environment like this, but was proud of myself for putting it out there. I’m an artist but showing art can still feel like I’m new to all this.
Installation went smoothly but took much longer than expected. I thought I could have done it within half a day because I was focused and generally knew what I wanted, but with so many pieces, that was unrealistic. Luckily, I had blocked out a few days just in case—it was important to me to not feel rushed in any way. My plan was to install everything on the walls first, and then move onto my ceramics. We also installed a hanging piece outside at the last hour.
There was one thing I was unsure of. How to install my silver gelatin prints? I knew I couldn’t afford to put money into buying a dozen frames for work I was unsure would sell. So I opted for very small yet strong magnets. I had seen others use these before, but was hesitant with how it would look having never done it myself. I was nervous for no reason because it worked out just fine and the magnets are subtle and don’t get in the way.
In the gallery, I wanted my tabletop objects to be clustered on one large central table. The height of the table was important to me, I didn’t want the sculptures too low but didn’t want them on a pedestal either. After a few weeks of thinking about what surface I wanted my clay sculptures to be on, I could only see my own studio table as the right display. A friend with a large truck and experience installing art helped me bring my very large and very heavy worktable. It felt right at home when we got it in place. I wanted a piece of the pottery studio to be present and this was a good way to have that architectural element as an anchor in the room.
I’m excited about showcasing this group of work for others to see, but also nervous for the exact same reason. I want to continue to put myself out there while also wanting to hide. I want the show to sell out, while also wanting to keep everything for myself. I’m confident about my work because I truly love every single piece, but there’s always a hint of insecurity. I know there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of, but I also want to be taken seriously. Sometimes my work can be interpreted as small or cute or crafty, and I don’t love that reaction. I naturally gravitate towards creating subtleties that require a bit of presence. The material draws you in and the texture has a familial feel, but I want my way of expressing quotidian norms to keep you looking for more.
Most of the work included in TIMETABLE was made within the last 18 months, but I also inserted a handful of pieces from 4-5 years ago that I think are important to have as part of the grouping. They inform the way I’ve been working and act as a guide. One of the things I enjoy so much is the arranging and rearranging of the domestic sculptures. There is no one way to display my work. They are sold individually but they are stronger as a group and displayed quite close together.
I made a to-scale drawing of the table of ceramics as an addendum to the inventory of works for sale and pricelist. Once the show was completely installed, I measured every single piece and drew a map as documentation. This was a fun exercise to slow down my excitement and nervousness and to focus on the small details.
New ceramic panels or “clay paintings” that are derived from photos I took of oak trees made their debut on the wall. I’ve always been drawn to the negative space that trees create and their constant seasonal evolution. I finally started capturing these shapes I love with 35mm photography, but I’ve taken them a step further by rendering the crevices and openings with different clay bodies—a series I’m calling “Think like an oak tree”. Most pieces in the show are about the ground, but these viewpoints offer a way to look up, a slight shift in perspective. Hung with plate wall hangers, these panels offer a new direction connecting the process of film photography and clay that I’m really looking forward to pursuing.
Below is my artist statement. I’m self-conscious about it because the writing is nowhere near complete and consider this an in progress document always in need of more refinement and detail. The artist statement is a conceptual backdrop that ebbs and flows depending on where I’m at and although it makes me uncomfortable, I think it’s good practice to share as context. I plan on having a full day at the gallery to sit with the work and spend a few hours reflecting and writing more about individual pieces and the group as a whole, exploring new links and overlapping themes.
At the intersection of art and craft, my ceramic practice focuses on functional wares and sculptural objects for the home. The stoneware groupings investigate an obsession with clay itself—rarely hiding the exterior with glaze, only showcasing the texture and tactility our hands are drawn to. Through physical acts of multiplying, rearranging, adding and subtracting, the work is rooted in the relationship between manual labor, production and value.
My work explores daily conventions that re-present domesticity through playful shapes and irrational constructs. I aim to make work that alters the way we perceive and feel time. Most pieces have a “home base”. This comes from the minimalist, architectural side of my being; everything must have a place. The “home” in some instances can be a wooden box, an elevated platform, a vessel, a table setting, a plate, a hand. The grounding of the ceramics is also about landscape, dirt and the built environment. An important component to these sculptures is the simplicity of the material and not overworking the clay.
I’m a natural tracker. I track numbers, hours, days, and not just for my pottery but in my quotidian life. It’s part compulsive, part efficiency. Inherently, my work takes on those quantitative qualities of what happens in a typical day—putting dishes away, chopping vegetables, morning tea, sweeping, budgeting, noticing minute seasonal changes, documenting sun angles, making schedules and calendars, days of the week, hours in a day. I rethink the clock and the reorganization of life and the mundane chores we perform.
Photography has always been a quiet underlying framework to my process, slowly informing and confirming how I interpret my immediate environment. With recent explorations in the darkroom, my 35mm black & white film photographs focus on the ground (earth, soil, rock, clay, concrete, sidewalk, mud, asphalt, decay, etc.) and how we overlook what we walk on. I play with scale and texture to showcase the beauty of the commonly overused.
If you’ve been meaning to reach out to a place that would be a great fit, maybe a local shop or gallery, give yourself permission to send that email. Creating a community connection can take on various shapes and sizes. Design your perfect venue. Create your own show in your home. Invite people to collaborate with. Get a table at an art fair or craft show.
There’s never any right or wrong way in sharing art and this is exactly the kind of thing I need reminding of myself. Over the past few years, I’ve received countless rejection letters from applications, institutions and people but occasionally something does work out and that gives me life to keep going and to continue creating. A tiny bit of reassurance can go a long way. I’m grateful for this opportunity and can’t wait to see what the momentum brings.
Grounded in play, Clayfulness is a newsletter exploring what it means to be an artist making a living from their work with transparency and honesty. This is a place where you’ll find failures and victories from my studio practice, how I stay motivated and when I’m not. This is more than a monthly word exercise for myself, but a space to understand what this little business is and where it wants to go. I call it Clayfulness because clay is the background of my life, but there’s also more. My life is full of other endeavors and being playful is one of my core principles in everything I do.
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Félicitations!
La vérité! La beauté!
Merci d'avoir gardé la tête et le cœur ouverts et surtout de partager avec nous.
Congratulations!