How the Masked Lady Came to Be

I don't know if I mentioned this, but I am new to ceramics. My daughter has been working in clay for 10+ years, so I've watched her learn and grow, but until last November, I'd not so much as picked up a clump of clay, let alone manipulate tools. After Rachel left college, she no longer had access to many of the amenities she had when she was learning and working in the studio. My husband I purchased a used kiln for her about a year ago, she'd already purchased a traveling wheel, but life being what it is (paying bills by working 40 hours a week) didn't bode well for her pottery hobby/busienss.

This past October, Rachel dragged her wheel out to the back patio and began throwing pieces. I've always loved photography, and purchased a medium grade D-SLR this past year for an upcoming trip to Scotland and Ireland. While she created her pieces, I photographed. And, that started a conversation about me working in clay.

I'm the kind of person who will try about anything, but for some reason I had this idea that I would be an abysmal failure if I tried throwing on the wheel. Rachel makes it look sooooooo easy. But, she also surrounds her wheel like a monkey clinging to a limb. Her legs are bent up around her ears, her upper body is contorted downward. She puts her whole body into it. Watching her makes me ache all over. Oye vey!

Rachel suggested I start with hand building. I kind of stuck my finger in my ear and rolled it around and asked, "What's that?"

I won't go into detail other than to state that I took to hand building like a pig to mud. Some of my first attempts were failures, but some were great successes. I found myself awake at night staring at the ceiling thinking of what I could make next. In the meantime, she was still working 40 hours a week, so I was left to my own devices. But, I learned enough of the basics from her that I felt comfortable experimenting.

There is a catch 22 to experimenting. The downside is that clay is not free, and I'm definitely don't have a money tree growing in my backyard. So if something fails, that is money out of my pocket. The upside is that I do not have some instructor telling what I have to make, and standing over my shoulder telling me how to make it. This means I've learned from my mistakes and try not to repeat them, and I've learned to trust my instincts and go out on a limb.

Which brings me to the Lady.

I had this idea of making a wall hanging of a woman's face from a mold, and adding large maple leaves for her hair. I wish I had a photo of it, but we were on crunch time to get ready for a vendor event, so I was more interested in bisque firing than taking a photo. I loved that piece. I would go out into our garage studio and stare at that piece. She was stunning, and I spent an enormous amount of time making her. When I opened the kiln after the firing, I was heartbroken that she'd shattered. More precisely put, the leaves cracked off her head leaving behind a macabre phantom of the opera kind of face.

My first instinct was to shovel the mess into the garbage can. I was angry, disappointed, and questioning the clay gods, "Why? Why this piece? Why not one of the other pieces?" My daughter and husband came out to the garage and saw the remains of my masterpiece and tsk, tsked the disaster. My daughter said that the remaining face was kind of interesting, but I knew she was leaving off, "In a weird kind of way."

So that got me to thinking what I could salvage the leftovers.

I come from the business world where if a project you are working on fails with plan A, always make sure you have a plan B in place. Sometimes you have to go to plan C, D, or E. Morphing the plan to make it work until completion is key.

My lady deserved to have a second chance. So, I thought. And, I thought. And, I thought. And I thought some more how to create something out of that broken mess.

Did I mention I'm a writer? When I'm working on a written piece, I go over scenarios in my head 24/7. I imagine things and day dream and pretty much drive every one around me crazy because my head is in the clouds.

What I envisioned in my head for my lady is a piece of art that had fallen to ruin and rested on the ground, hidden in the garden. Her beauty was not diminished, just hidden. So I went to the garage and looked around for scraps of stuff we'd bisque fired. I found leaves, and lady bugs, and a dragonfly, a Japanese coin. And I started to play. She was already macabre. There was no fixing that. So how could I arrange these items to accentuate her bizarre looks?

I decided to glaze her in two colors. The part of her face that remained intact received a mild green glaze that I wanted to replicate the patina of a metal sculpture. The side that was broken received an earthy cream toned glaze. I spread the love over the leaves, dragonfly, beetles.


Close up


Held in my hand, this gives an idea of the size.

The finished product. She's kind of weird in and artsy sort of way. She rose from the ashes of a complete disaster, and became something beautiful and unique. My husband rolls his eyes at her, only because she doesn't represent any art form he could appreciate. Me, I think she is special and will find a good home.