Category Archives: Inspiration

Influencers

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We often hear the word influencer tossed around in today’s social media-driven world—usually referring to someone who promotes products, trends, or lifestyles to a broad audience.

Social media influencers thrive on visibility and quick engagement, building their followings through brand deals, viral trends, and aspirational lifestyles. Their goal is often transactional—to monetize their reach through partnerships and sponsorships. Living on platforms like Instagram and TikTok, they shape pop culture and consumer habits by promoting what’s popular, hoping followers will imitate their tastes. Their influence is driven by relatability and attention metrics—likes, followers, and views—rather than lasting artistic depth.

In contrast, an artist who influences others does so not through trends, but through the power of their vision, authenticity, and mastery. Their goal isn’t to build an audience for visibility, but to explore and express something true—and in doing so, they spark insight and courage in fellow artists. Rather than shaping consumer tastes, they shape creative thought. Their legacy is built on originality, integrity, and emotional resonance. And while they may never “go viral”, their work becomes a lasting part of the artistic dialogue—an invitation for others to reach further and create more honestly.

This idea of meaningful artistic influence has been deeply personal for me lately, especially through my recent exploration of vessels—both as tangible art objects and as metaphors for containment, offering, and transformation.

That exploration was sparked in no small part by the work of my friend and fellow artist, Shannon Weber. Her raw, intuitive fiber vessels—organic, mysterious, deeply rooted in place—stopped me in my tracks the first time I saw them.

Shannon never sets out to “teach” with her work, but her authenticity and fearless craftsmanship opened something in me. Her pieces whispered permission: You can build from instinct. You can honor materials. You can make containers for spirit, not just function.

That influence didn’t make me want to copy her—it made me want to listen more closely to my own hands, my own materials. It shaped how I approach my own vessels, especially in workshops.

When I teach, I’m not just showing students how to construct a form—I’m inviting them to fill it with meaning. The energy flows forward. I see students begin to trust their own stories and discover that their vessels hold more than objects—they hold essence. And then, they influence others in turn, through their courage and creativity.

Want to see what can be accomplished? Here is a link to a catalog of work from students in the recent Ephemeral Vessels workshop at UTSA/SW. We started the journey together, but they began to follow their own path as we worked together over the two days.

And of course, I carry the strong influence of other artists in this ongoing exploration – Joanna Powell Colbert, whose earth-grounded, sea-and-seasons centered spirituality helps me define my purpose in creating these forms. The insights I gain from her work flow into the vessels I create, filling them with meaning and intention.

And my dear friend Michelle Belto introduced me to the transformative qualities of wax years ago. It now adds a protective layer to my vessels while enhancing their surface with depth and luminous beauty. There are so many metaphors of influence in that process that dovetail into my work.

Here is a new form I’m working with to take to Ireland for our Vessels workshop there this summer. I call it the Five Knot Vessel. It’s small and simple, easy to pack and carry home, but has lots of possibilities. In spirit, it carries the presence of those who’ve guided me—Shannon, Joanna, Michelle, and so many others whose influence travels with me like quiet companions, woven into each layer and knot.

This is the living, breathing cycle of artistic influence: one artist lights a path, another follows and forges their own, and the light spreads. Not through algorithms or brand partnerships, but through the shared language of making. It’s quiet, powerful, and lasting.

Lyn, grateful for every creative influencer in my life ♥

A Vessel for Memory: Mary Ann’s Tribute

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Art has an incredible way of holding memory—of transforming grief into something tangible, something sacred. For my dear friend and fiber artist, Mary Ann, this became profoundly true when she created an encaustic vessel in honor of her late husband, Larry. She came to my studio yesterday, and as she worked with the encaustic medium, she talked about the vessel and what it meant.

Mary Ann and Larry shared a life of service. They met in Vietnam, where she served as an Army nurse and he as a dedicated officer. If you’ve read The Women by Kristin Hannah, you know about some of the challenges Mary Ann faced.

After they retired, they stayed in San Antonio, carrying with them a lifetime of experiences. When Larry passed away, Mary Ann found herself sorting through the remnants of their shared life—his military papers, their joint financial records—trying to make sense of both the past and the future.

“After the passing of my husband, I began sifting through his military papers and our important documents to get a clearer picture of my next steps as a widow,” she shared. “It was in those pages that I discovered just how thoughtfully Larry had planned for my future without him.”

That realization, of his enduring care even beyond his lifetime, became the foundation for her tribute. She found 32 years’ worth of Larry’s Army Leave and Earnings Statements—documents that guided every decision he made for their life together. Those pages, once mere records, took on new meaning as she transformed them into a vessel of remembrance.

Using a plaster bandage base to underscore healing, she layered the shredded strips of statements (mindful of security) with matte medium and clear gesso. As she worked, she encountered an unexpected moment of connection.

“I began to notice that his name was appearing randomly on the surface, inside and out. And often. I don’t know why that surprised me because it was on every page that I tore. But this simple recognition of his name gave me great peace and wiped away all the earlier feelings of the day.”

The finished piece is both delicate and powerful. The bowl, sealed in encaustic wax which bonds to the paper and clear gesso, cradles Larry’s military ribbons and medals. The documents that once recorded years of duty and sacrifice now form a sacred space, holding not just tangible honors but the deeper essence of love, service, and remembrance.

“The final touch, applying hot wax to the exterior and buffing a shine, sealed in the memories for me. I am happy to have this tribute to him.”

Mary Ann’s vessel speaks to the profound ways art can hold the weight of our experiences. It is a container not just of paper, gauze bandages, and wax, but of time, honor, and enduring love.

This story resonates strongly with me, and not just because Mary Ann is a close friend. You may remember that this year I’m teaching vessel-making workshops at UTSA and in Ireland, guiding artists through the process of creating personal, symbolic containers. Mary Ann’s story is a beautiful reminder that vessels are more than objects; they hold memories, emotions, and meaning beyond technique or skill. Whether formed from wax, fiber, or found materials, these creations become sacred spaces—places for honoring stories, preserving the past, and shaping what we carry forward.

Her tribute deepens my own understanding of why we create vessels, and I look forward to exploring that same sense of significance and sharing it with my students.

Thanks for the lesson, Mary Ann! ♥

Decoration vs. Design

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Professor Elizabeth Ridenhower in 1970: She Who Knows All

When I was an ungrad art major at Trinity University back in the (yikes!) 60’s, my elegant professor, Elizabeth Ridenhower, told us something that has stayed with me for decades. I think we were looking at an collage I was trying to complete. She said, “You need to know, dear, that there is a difference between decoration and design.”

Oh yeah?? But I finally internalized what she meant  – in short, design works at multiple levels—functional, emotional, and aesthetic—whereas decoration is more about surface appeal alone. A decorative collage might use colorful magazine cutouts, sequins, and fabric swatches scattered across the canvas without much thought to their relationship. The sequins might be glued on in random places to make the piece sparkle, but they don’t contribute to a cohesive message. The elements don’t interact in a way that enhances a narrative or evokes a specific feeling beyond surface-level observation.

I reminded myself of this while I was trying to figure out how to resolve a mixed-media encaustic piece that came together by accident. This photograph of a white clay vessel was on the work table with an earthenware face and a piece of rusty steel sitting on top of it, just because that’s where it landed while I was working.

The bowl really is printed on a piece of paper even though it looks three-dimensional. I challenged myself to make a collage/assemblage with these two things to see if it could work.

I bonded the photograph to a 10×10″ birch cradleboard panel, and then attached the head and the rusty wing to the top of the board before I put wax on the surface. I added a chopstick to the bottom to balance the heavy top shape and to act a s a visual “shelf” for the photo of the bowl. So far, so good.

After I added two coats of encaustic medium, I started adorning the collage with little scraps of paper that had mysterious words typed on them. The idea was that the words were coming out of the bowl.

But when I put wax over the scraps, it was a mess – the paper looked like decorations, not good design, plus the edges were sticking up, and so I scraped the whole thing off. It may look OK in the photo, below, but those words just didn’t do anything but sit on the surface as a distraction.

So I had to solve the problem of how to use the idea of the words,  make them fit in to a cohesive, conceptual design — and then how to make the whole piece come together as an integrated work, and not just a few random elements stuck on a board.

Here is what happened:

I printed the words out in a straight column on rice paper and waxed them into the surface in two columns. The wax paper disappeared into the background. The words were now subtle and mysterious and looked as if they belonged in the piece. They were IN the surface and not ON the surface.

Much as I loved the rust, I veiled the wing shape with a pale chalk medium compound to integrate it into the object-as-icon. I did the same with the earthenware face and the sticks at the bottom. At this point, it became something believable and all-of-a-piece – something found – something mysterious.

 

You can look at the details and see how everything seems to come from the same unknown place:

The previous version might have been “prettier” with its torn paper decorations – but I am infinitely more pleased with the more complex design of the finished piece.

It’s always helpful to me to think of Design vs. Decoration – decoration has its place. for sure, and I can have fun decorating things.

But the well-designed artwork engages the viewer by creating layers of interaction between the objects and ideas. It offers a sense of purpose and invites reflection. The decorative piece, while visually pleasant, might lack that deeper connection and resonance. In art, the most powerful works are often those where the design allows the viewer to discover new meanings and emotions each time they look.

I hope Elizabeth Ridenhower is proud of me!

PS – if you have the patience to read a bit more, here is the narrative that resonates behind this piece, written by a pretty clever app — interesting!

In ancient times, a celestial being descended from the heavens, their face a symbol of wisdom and eternal vision. They came not as a ruler, but as a guide, offering a pathway between realms. As they moved through the void, wings of light unfolded from their presence, hovering above the world. Beneath this ethereal figure lay an ancient vessel, a bowl that had endured the trials of time. Its weathered surface, marked by the soft yellows and grays of the earth, was a container for lost stories, for forgotten truths.

The face and bowl, connected by their placement, symbolized the link between the divine and the mortal. The bowl, a sacred keeper of wisdom, held the weight of history and whispered its mysteries to those who sought deeper knowledge. Behind these figures, a series of words softly emerged in the background, their meanings vague yet powerful, offering clues to the seekers of ancient truths.

The piece, in its ethereal quality, became a portal—inviting viewers to contemplate the delicate balance between spirit and substance, thought and emotion, and the eternal flow of wisdom from ancient worlds to the present day. It was a story of connection, of the ever-present link between what is seen and what lies beyond.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Artist of Influence: Alejandra Almuelle

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Alejandra Almuelle

You likely have favorite artists who have influenced your work over the years, or perhaps their work differs from yours in significant ways but you are drawn to it nevertheless. Alejandra Almuelle is one of those for me in both respects.

I met Alejandra at least 15 years ago at the annual Texas Clay Festival in Gruene and bought this little bowl from her. It has a design of a flying fish – so simple, small, and elegant.

We talked for quite a while and there was a compelling quality to her work that stayed with me. I visited her website recently and was just transported with the sculptures she has created over the last decade.

Alejandra Almuelle: From Her Website

Alejandra Almuelle was born in Arequipa, Peru. She spent few years in Pizac in the Sacred Valley of Cuzco, a center for ceramic making. Peru is a country in which the abundance of clay has made this medium a language of artistic expression. Clay is its own idiom, and being there, she began to speak it. After she moved to Austin, she started working with clay. Addressing the functionality of the medium as well as its
sculptural expression has been equally important for her. She has participated in art fairs, galleries and museums with both pottery and sculpture.’

Alejandra Almuelle

Alejandra is a brilliant, incredibly prolific clay sculptor and has exhibited in numerous galleries – read this comment from the review of her show called “Silent Narrative of Things” at Dimension Gallery in Austin in 2017:

“…Because what Almuelle has done is turned Dimension Gallery into what we can’t help but perceive as a sacred space. Not some typical “sacred space” festooned with the gimcrackery of more common religions, though. Rather, a hidden alcove redolent of ancient pagan mysteries, of deep Jungian undercurrents, with sculptures of the artist’s interpretation of the Three Fates all texturally complex against the entrance wall; with a series of hollow and pristinely white figures atop a field of salt on a far table; with sculpted hands set among piled patterns of spice – cinnamon, turmeric, pepper, and more – on a closer surface; with a diverse array of rough porcelain needles literally stitching yarn-as-bloodlines into the very concrete of the gallery’s cemented verticals.”

Wow.

Here is a series of pieces from that exhibit, and you can see all of her work here on her website.

Alejandra Almuelle

About the seven works above, she says, “When I began this series, I was affected by the significance and probable implications of the political situation. Many questions started to come as the work emerged. Questions created more questions in my attempt to answer them. “Seven”, which is the first of the series expresses that state of mind. . .Each of these human-shaped figures are pierced, revealing the interior space through orifices and openings as manifesting the permeable nature of the self. A self that is not solid, fixed or contained.”

Alejandra Almuelle

Her depth and dedication to her craft and her art are awe-inspiring.

Alejandra Almuelle

Recently, I acquired another one of Alejandra’s artworks from a series that she calls “Ayas.” Here it is sitting on the desk at my kitchen door where I see it every morning:

This is how she describes the Ayas: “Aya is not only a personal reference but a tribute as well to Pre-Columbian Mayan ceramic dolls. In Japanese, “aya” means colorful and beautiful. In Arabic, it means miracle, sign, and verse. In Hebrew, it refers to flight or birds, and in Turkish, “aya” means a source of abundance and creativity. There is also an African Adinkra symbol called “aya” represented by a fern which symbolizes endurance and resourcefulness.”

I hope you enjoy being inspired by Alejandra’s work as much as I do. She will be at the 2024 Texas Clay Festival in Gruene – I always look forward to that event!

When we discover artists whose breathtaking work makes us shiver with exhilaration, it’s worth sharing.

Thanks for reading!

Alejandra Almuelle

 

Hiraeth: The Face at the Edge of a Dream

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In the Welsh language, there is a word that comes close to conveying the idea of the last traces of a dream fading away: “hiraeth.“ (“Hiraeth” is pronounced as HEERaiyth in English phonetics.)

“Hiraeth” is often described as a deep longing or yearning, particularly for something that is lost or unattainable, which can be linked to the fading remnants of a dream. There is no word in English that exactly corresponds with this.

Detail, Encaustic collage, 2015

I was so glad to find this word because it helps me understand the deep infatuation I have always had with human faces (as evidenced by how often they manifest themselves in my artwork).  Human faces, ancient or contemporary, fascinate me as summaries of life stories in the moment.

And, odd as it seems, I am always searching for a particular expression that will resonate with a hidden meaning, something that conveys a deep sense of humanity to me personally.

It’s almost as if I once knew this face and this expression, but it continues to elude me – there is a feeling much like “hireath” that keeps me searching through old photographs, portraits in museums, and creating synthographic images for myself to define that elusive face.

There are probably all kinds of reasons for my “facequest,” but right now I’m enjoying exploring the ephemeral faces of young women in a new series of encaustic collages that will be in a solo show in November.

I search for and create a lot of images, historic, personal, and synthographic, to find one that seems right. Here’s one in progress:

 

Here’s another one – I’m creating a series of twelve of these “hireathic” encaustic collages.

All of these collages take advantage of the veil-like quality of beeswax that drew me to the encaustic process in the first place – the ephemeral quality of a wax-veiled image works to convey a fading dream or a not-quite-real-memory.

I’m working with wax, stencils, and foil to produce a reflective texture layer on these collages that adds to the dream-like illusion. Here’s a detail:

Experimenting with techniques is just one side of the creative coin – the other is the search for content, and part of my search has often been a quest for evocative human faces.

Hiraeth, with its deep sense of longing for something lost or unattainable, beautifully captures the emotion behind searching for a likeness of a human face that seems to carry a timeless connection. The face, whether in an old photograph, a synthographic image, or an ancient portrait, becomes a portal to another place, evoking a bittersweet connection that resonates with unfulfilled desires and the haunting feeling of something familiar yet distant, almost within reach but forever elusive.

Thanks for reading! And remember, you feel a sense of hiraeth, it means your heart is deeply connected to something mysterious and beautiful, reminding you that your memories and experiences are treasures that have shaped who you are today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quicksilver: verse and vision

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collage

Quicksilver: Terlingua Cemetery, Lyn Belisle

What an extraordinary experience to have a poet look at your work and tell its hidden story back to you with empathy and intuition! Maggie Fitch – friend, potter, poet – just gave me that great honor. You’ll love the poem .. read on.

Here’s how it happened.

One of my artworks is being exhibited in the current GAGA show at the San Antonio Art League + Museum. It is titled Quicksilver: Terlingua Cemetry. I created this fiber art collage (above) as a response to a recent visit to the cemetery in Terlingua just outside Big Bend. The work is comprised of transferred photos on fabric, stitching, fabric scraps, and found objects on stretched canvas. It is 36″ long.

Collage back story: The Chisos Mining Company, was established in 1903 at Terlingua, and during the next three decades became one of the nation’s leading producers of quicksilver (mercury from cinnabar ore). The Terlingua cemetery, iconic and eerie, is a reminder of the miners who died there from mercury poisoning. The average time spent in the mine before mercury poisoning began affecting them was less than 5 years. The men who got sick were happy to have a job for pennies a day, all the while unaware of the horrific nature of their own impending death.

So, Maggie was attending a poetry workshop group at the Art League last week, and their focus was to write an ekphrastic poem, which is an intense poetic description of a  a work of art, and to chose a piece from the exhibition Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the “action” of the artwork, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning.

Maggie chose to study my piece and looked at it so carefully that she discovered a story that amazed me. These were the first two lines of her poem:

“See here
printed in plain sight a plot of prickly crosses . . .”

She contemplated the details she saw – torn newspaper clippings sewn to tattered fabric, old images of a miner, transferred onto cloth, a frayed portrait of a native child, rusty items and found objects . . .

She saw more than just the history of the place – she felt what it must have been like to be there, perhaps on an August day exactly 100 years ago . . .

She tells us through her poem what to look for, what we can see if we look past the individual scraps and shards to the whole concept of place in time . . .

Read Maggie’s entire poem, below, read it slowly, and I think you will feel how visual art and poetic verse are powerful companions.

Ekphrastic poem by Maggie Fitch
based on a fiber collage by Lyn Belisle:
Quicksilver: Terlingua Cemetery

See here

printed in plain sight a plot of prickly crosses
seen here three ways differently still all the same
remarking the folly of passers-by intending
to go somewhere better
away from a screaming orange sky
then befuddled in twilight’s turquoise caresses
charring intentions into crusty black embers
blown over the graves of those
passing through to somewhere else

See here

stitched little purses of tattered intentions
that should have been quicksilver but not quick enough
passing through with his donkey in the desert that day
the miner gave the young girl a shawl
kindly wrapping her shoulders up warmly that night
she gave him a colorful brand-new bandana
around his neck in the desert that day
passing through with his donkey
enchanted instead by a mouth full of tumbleweed

See here

are the artifacts of tattered intentions
stitched little purses made from what is left
of the shawl and bandana and maybe a donkey’s tooth
shadows of the young girl
and the miner who stayed
enthralled by the spectrum
in Terlingua they stayed
embedded in Quicksilver

See?

This poem gives me shivers – it’s as if Maggie was there in Terlingua that day, watching, seeing it all unfold. It’s beautiful and haunting. I am transported by lines like:

“…away from a screaming orange sky
then befuddled in twilight’s turquoise caresses
charring intentions into crusty black embers
blown over the graves of those
passing through to somewhere else . . .”

Below is a photo of Maggie’s original poem next to the collage she created in the Visual Verses group which is facilitated by poet and artist Marcia Roberts. This group meets once a month at the San Antonio Art League. (If you are interested in learning more about this group, please email Marcia.)

As I said at the start of this post, I told you that Maggie is also and artist who tells stories in clay. Here is an example of Maggie’s own work:

If I were a poet, I would love to look at these two pieces and write an ekphrastic poem about who they are and what their story is. Perhaps the fellow on the right was a miner passing through Terlingua searching for his long-lost daughter?? . . . . .maybe??? See???

Thank you, Maggie, for a wonderful poem. I learned so much. ♥

Altared Statements

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Altars as an art form embody profound spiritual and visual significance. They serve as sacred spaces where personal beliefs, cultural heritage, and artistic expression converge. Through intricate designs and meaningful symbolism, altars invite reflection, honor traditions, and create a powerful connection between the physical and the divine.

Example of an empty altar structure from Celebration Circle

Opening soon, on August 23rd, the San Antonio Art League is hosting Celebration Circle’s annual celebration of creativity in the exhibition known as “One People, Many Paths: Sacred Art of Altars.” Each year, emerging and established local artists are invited to share their own sparks of divine creativity by participating in the exhibition where 60+ duplicate boxes–each with identical dimensions–are created and distributed. Then, at the end of the closing reception, each altar receives a new home.

​I’ve participated in this Altar exhibition for many, many years – this is its 20th anniversary!

Here is my Altar for this year’s Celebration Circle fundraiser – it’s titled, “The Gift.”

There is a backstory, a myth about markmaking – see what you thihk:

The Gift: An Altar to Tsukuyomi’s Gurdian

Lyn Belisle, 2024

In ancient Japan, young Yumiko ventured deep into the forest one twilight and encountered a mystical Noh spirit with antlers, known as Tsukuyomi’s Guardian. The spirit’s presence was ethereal, its antlers adorned with intricate carvings that glowed with a celestial light. “I have chosen you,” the spirit whispered, “to receive the ancient art of creation.”

The spirit led Yumiko to an ancient ebony tree, its charred wood still warm from a celestial fire. “From this tree, we will create ink,” the spirit said. Together, they ground the burnt wood into a fine, black powder, mixing it with water to form glistening ink. Next, the spirit guided her to a grove of bamboo. “These stalks will become brushes,” it explained. They split the bamboo, shaping the fibers into bristles bound by slender threads.

Then, they journeyed to a field where the spirit showed Yumiko how to transform plant fibers into delicate, resilient paper. Soaking, pulping, and pressing the fibers, they created sheets as white as snow. With her sacred tools in hand, Yumiko knelt before the spirit. “Now, make your mark upon the world,” it urged.

Yumiko began to draw, creating symbols representing objects and emotions. Her first marks were of profound gratitude to the spirit. As dawn approached, the Noh spirit faded, whispering, “Share this gift, for in teaching others, you honor the spirit of creation.”

Yumiko returned to her village, her soul alight with the spirit’s wisdom. She taught her people the sacred arts, ensuring that the legacy of Tsukuyomi’s Guardian lived on, interwoven with the fabric of their daily lives, as eternal as the antlered spirit itself.

Previous Years

Most of my previous Altars for Celebration Circle have had backstories – here is last year’s altar about Xochiquetzal, the goddess of beauty and love in Mexican mythology, also holds the role of protector and patroness of birds.

This one, from the Altar Show two years ago, is called A Prayer for Rain:

As I look back on these, I see similar elements in all of them. For a time, I was working on a series of small altars, and may go back to that soon. It’s a wonderful way to choose, build, and meditate with your hands.

There is a lot of information out there in Cyberspace and in the library about making your own altar for your own purpose I like what Wemoon says about altars.

But if you REALLY want to get inspired, come to the Art League to see The Sacred Art of Altars!

  • The opening Meet the Artists Preview Party is Friday, August 23 from 5:30 – 7:30 pm.
  • The closing reception is Saturday, September 14 from  5:30 – 7:30 pm.

And if you want to be dazzled by the many concepts and creative ideas that artists have come up with for this show in the past, take this link and click on photos from the previous years of this wonderful exhibition.

 

 

What does your vessel hold?

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Jennifer Dixon, Vessel Workshop

I spent this past weekend in the Art Studio at UTSA/Southwest teaching a workshop called The Ephemeral Vessel: Exploring Plaster, Fiber, and Paper. As usual, I learned as much as a taught.

We began the first day by discussing the vessel as a concept. A vessel holds deep symbolic and spiritual significance, representing both containment and potential. The outside of a vessel symbolizes the physical form, protection, and boundaries, encapsulating the external aspects of life and the tangible world. It is the visible, crafted exterior that interacts with the environment, often reflecting cultural artistry and craftsmanship.

Jalen uses a soldering iron to pierce the “skin” of his vessel in progress

The inside of a vessel, however, carries profound spiritual connotations. It
represents the inner self, the soul, and the essence of being. This inner space holds potential and mystery, symbolizing the capacity to contain and nurture life, emotions, and spiritual energy. It is a metaphor for the unseen depths within every individual, the potential for growth, transformation, and the holding of sacred or significant contents.

The inside of Janis’s vessel shows little scraps and shards of memories of the process

Together, the inside and outside of a vessel illustrate the dual nature of existence: the balance between the external, material world and the internal, spiritual realm. This duality underscores the importance of harmony between our outer actions and inner values, encouraging a holistic approach to understanding life and spirituality.

And when we weren’t pondering the existentialist nature of the forms we were creating, we were also have fun! There was a moment of silence in the studio when each person got ready to pop their plaster-covered balloon. There were many oohs and ahhs when an unexpected material turned into magic on the surface of a bowl.

Almost dry enough to pop!

Taking simple materials and transforming them into meaningful creative statements has always been kind of a miraculous process. Every one of the vessels created in this workshop held a narrative. I am in awe of the vessel-makers and their stories.

Click here to see a catalog that I put together of some of the amazing work that was done this weekend.

As a final note, Everyday Sacred by Sue Bender is another one of those books that I can return too whenever I need centering. The begging bowl in this book is such a powerful image. The begging Zen monk receives the food people can spare in his bowl with gratitude. It’s an ongoing practice to accept what happens in life – and my bowl is so full of gratitude for this workshop experience!

Clay Soup and Alan Watts

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Riddle: You have 60 small clay faces drying in the sun, almost ready to be fired. What do they turn into after an expected thunderstorm?

Answer: Clay Soup!

If only I had loaded the kiln before we left for the afternoon! But noooooo – the sky was clear, so who would have thought that a gully-washer was coming?

Seeing all of those dissolved clay faces when I got home made me feel sad, but also a bit philosophical. After all, they were still clay. Only their shapes had changed. They were returned back to their primordial soup!

This experience got me thinking about Alan Watts, whose writings have been a huge influence and comfort to me all of my adult life.

Alan Watts often spoke about the nature of life and death in terms that demystify and de-dramatize the transition. The concept that when you die, you go back to being what you were before you were born, is a profound reflection on the nature of existence. From clay to clay? From soup to soup?

He encourages us to view life as a temporary journey through a realm of awareness, much like a bird’s fleeting passage through a lighted house. By understanding and accepting the cyclical nature of life and death, we can alleviate the fear of death and appreciate the transient beauty of our existence. (Alan Watts Organization)​.

If you haven’t read Alan Watts before, I encourage you to start with THE BOOK
On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. If you’re interested in The Book, there’s a PDF version available here.

This is all kind kind of a heavy-duty metaphor about something simple as melted clay, right? But there are lessons in everything. Living an artful life means looking at things through a different lens.

And the other HUGE bonus from this experience was the rain! Because I live in South Texas, I will willingly trade a couple of hours work for some welcome rain! I can make more clay faces but I sure can’t make it rain!

Thanks for reading – back to the clay studio 🙂

Lyn

 

 

 

 

New Work – Scraps and Shards and Milagros

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If you haven’t heard from me in a while, it’s usually because I’m on a deadline in the studio or I’m having computer problems – this time, it’s been both things, but all is well now. I just wanted to drop in to show you five new pieces I’ve built for the upcoming Art League Members Gallery show.

These guys are variations on the idea of my “Two-Byes” which I introduced in this post last year.

These pieces are a little less fiber-oriented and a little more found-object focused, but the idea is the same – take discarded scraps and and create new miracles (or at least new artwork). They incorporate some of the techniques I’ll be sharing in the upcoming working at the Fiber Artists of San Antonio Spirit Box workshop in May.

I’ve also completed a series of five new Neo-Santos in a different format – stay tuned for those. I’ll try to post photos later this week. Thanks for reading!!