My World is Strange Now (and this post is not about ceramics)

TW: No ceramics today, just cancer. I'm feeling strange, so I don't l know if I can keep the tone light today. If you're not feeling that, move on by. The previous post is about sculpture; it's way more fun.

yeah, this is how I feel

I'm getting ready to poison myself later this week. Was that too melodramatic? I'm feeling strange. My world has gotten very weird lately. When my daughter was little, we periodically found ourselves saying things we'd never anticipated saying before, like, "don't put that screw in your ear!"  This feels a bit like that. I find myself planning for things I never imagined. What will it be like to make myself intentionally sick later this week? 

trying to get a handle on what to expect from chemo

Last month I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma. That's breast cancer to those of us who aren't speaking fluent cancer-ese right now. The poison I plan to take later this week is chemotherapy, specifically neoadjudavant chemotherapy designed to reduce my tumor and the cancer in my lymph node(s) and eliminate any cancer that might have traveled through my lymph nodes to the rest of my body, but still be too small to see in a scan.

In July something felt funny in my breast. I couldn't articulate it, but I had noticed changes and tried to talk to my doctor about them. She said I was fine. (She didn't actually check.) It seemed like a good answer at the time. It seems like a bad answer in retrospect. It seemed, frankly, scary once I was diagnosed but before I'd talked to some other doctors.

At the end of September I felt a lump. I'd been paying some attention to that breast since July. Based on what the doctor said I was just waiting for something to change or stay the same (yeah, I don't know either). This day I had just gotten home from work. My folks were visiting. My mom was in the kitchen and I was talking to her from the dining room, maybe taking my coat or bag off. This time, just brushing my hand against my side, I felt a distinct lump; I was no longer unable to articulate what felt funny. But my doctor had said that sometimes breasts feel funny, so I waited a few more days before scheduling an appointment. And I didn't tell my mom (sorry Mom, I didn't want to worry you). 

my friend ordered her kids some necklaces that say "F U Cancer" but they sent French versions which she gave to me and my daughter. I turned mine into a bracelet

Then it was another doctor, a mammogram, a biopsy, and a really crappy return visit to the place where I had the biopsy. When they call you and ask you to come in to discuss your results, you know you aren't likely to be told everything is fine. I was still hoping the verdict would be that my stuff was pre-cancerous or needed to be retested or something. 

My intial impression of the person who told me I have cancer was that she was just a terrible person. Who would want a job where they just tell people they have cancer? Why was this person so mean and awful. Obviously my first impressions may have been colored by my emotions. I now think this same person is just wonderful. First impressions, eh? It's Austenesque. 

she gave me a book to try to help me understand

Remember when I said everything is strange? Everything is so strange. This morning I was bubbly and chatty and feeling accomplished: not only did I work out and make a call I was dreading and return some emails, but I scheduled an echocardiogram, got said echo, and went grocery shopping. I chatted with the guy doing the echo and he showed me the parts of my heart and told me it looks healthy. (I have a "good heart".) It was really interesting to see my heart in an ultrasound. And then, like 20 minutes later, I started crying in the car for no discernable reason (except, y'know, the big one). 

I haven't cried much. I cried the first day when I told my husband and my folks. Then I got it together to tell my daughter. I've been anxious and I lost my appetite in the horrible days between when I was told I have cancer and when I actually talked to one of the cancer doctors. Seriously, they give you a book about cancer and send you home. Like, who is physically capable of reading the book about breast cancer immediately after being told they have breast cancer? When I finally did read it, a few days later, I found that it was really helpful. Until I got to the staging section and had to stop (I didn't know enough of my own results yet and the stages sounded scary).

the book is super useful, but I'm not a fan of pink cursive chapter titles and inspirational quotes

November was appointments and waiting and telling people and worrying, and trying to make lists just to give myself a feeling of control. At that point the bit of control I was able to wrest back from the now-strange world was making a list of all my appointments with check boxes for both the scheduling and the appointments. When I couldn't do anything else, at least I could check off that I scheduled the appointment. That list includes tests (CT, Bone Scan, Echocardiogram, MRI), and consults (surgery, oncology, radiation, second opinion, and genetic counseling), port surgery, and discussions about work/leave.

my to do list (to try to give myself some sense of control)

I'll be starting chemo on Wednesday. And I won't be teaching in Winter. The three IV bruises from the CT, bone scan, and port surgery are all gone now and I should be done with IVs because they put in a port-a-cath (TW: the link is from Nurse.org and has a diagram; click through only if you are ok to see that kind of thing) for my chemo. The way I understood what the doctor explained to me, the port just allows me to have a quick access port for chemo so they can skip finding a vein. But today in a podcast about cancer (because I listen to podcasts about cancer now), they said that the location (on the chest near the heart) means the the turbulence of the heart prevents the chemo drugs from lingering in the vein. I'm not sure if that's true, but the echocardiogram doctor said that the heart moves blood through your veins pretty quickly from anywhere.

my powerport (port-a-cath) guide

The cancer I have is apparently agressive (or looks like it is) and I have some lymph node "involvement" meaning that the cancer has moved from its original tumor location through the lymph system. The current scans and mammogram show that it is in one lumph node, but I have an MRI scheduled for this weekend because, apparently mammograms aren't as clear for "young" people like me. 

Because the cancer has moved at least some ways from the original location, there is some risk that little bits of cancer have found their way to other parts of my body. The plan is to start with 20 weeks of chemo (I had to take a little rest now just from thinking about 20 weeks of chemo!) to help eradicate any bits of cancer in the rest of me and also to hopefully shrink the tumor and the cancer in the lymph node(s). Later, I'll do surgery and radiation.

My medical bracelet for the port

I feel pretty confident in my doctors, in large part because they're all in agreement. In Yakima I met with the surgeon (who basically said chemo first, put the port in, and told me about my surgery options for later), then I went up to Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA) for a "second opinion" though technically only the surgery part was second and the oncology was first. I met with the Yakima oncologist two days later.

Immediately after I was diagnosed, I contacted a friend who is going through chemo right now and asked her to tell me everything I needed to know. A bit later I found out that another friend had had breast cancer, and got her opinion, and then the opinion of another couple of friends who have/had breast cancer. Everyone said go to SCCA, so I did. Most of them also said that Yakima's North Star Lodge was pretty good, but that SCCA were good folks to be in touch with because of their experts, technology, and options that might not be available locally.

Everyone I've talked to so far (after my primary care provider) has been incredible. Seriously, everyone; I'm talking nurses, surgeons (2), anesthesiologists, radiation oncologists, chemo oncologists (2), front office staff, nurse navigators (2), and even billing people, have been great. Yes, you heard that right, billing people treated me well! I have experienced exclusively compassion, clarity, support and, get this, fast answers and call-backs.  I know, now you're jealous that I got medical folks to call me back quickly and billing people to resolve issues promptly. Apparently cancer gets you that kind of service, who knew?

This map to North Star Lodge makes me laugh. If you don't know where you're going, how could this map possibly help? They haven't even marked North Star on the map! (Also, the directions tell you to turn on 39th Ave, but 39th isn't identified)

The woman who told me I had cancer (who I initially hated), then proceeded to be ultra-fast in returning my calls and compassionate and clear in reassuring me about timelines, sheduling, insurance, and medical questions. She's an absolutely rock star and I totally get why she does this job (I feel bad for hating her for a few days after she told me bad news). 

the notebook they gave me had a whole list of folks for me to add their contact information, but I have two of most of these, and none of several so I haven't really used it.

The other group of beautiful humans has been my incredible friends and colleagues. (Crying again, this is not normal for me). My family has been lovely, but that's like, assumed, right? I know I have my family and they love me and suppport me and they are willing to listen to me worry about things that probably worry them, too and then resist the temptation to let me know they're worried. Except when my mom was absolutely giddy over the phone after I found out the CT and bone scan were clear. I was giddy too; I was terrified that it had spread beyond the lymph node(s) already.

there's one spot for family/friend. which makes me wonder, first, why you only have 1, and second, why you don't already know how to contact them.

I have an absolutely incredible group of friends and colleagues. I can't believe how many people have offered to help, have actually taken stuff over from me so I don't have to worry about it, have offered to cook for me (knowing, at least in two cases, that I hate cooking), or have offered other kinds of support. I am lucky be able to lean on friends who know medical stuff (Becki and Nina) and people who have experience with cancer (who I won't name for their privacy) and I've been able to pick the brains of these intelligent and lovely people as I worry through my stuff. 

I can tell the whole thing has been a strain on my family (and me). My daughter is a teenager, so she was already emotionally sensitive and a little unpredictable, but I've noticed that she's been closer to tears (and me too, based on today) and all three of us are maybe quicker to frustration that we might otherwise be (thought, with a teenager it's a bit hard to tell). Immediately after the diagnosis we did lots of hugging, but now we've been living with it for 4 weeks and trying to get stuff done and I think the strain of functioning while this sits with us is tough. 

The thing that has been hardest so far for me has been the unknowning. After the biopsy, I had the information that it was invasive, in at least one lymph node, and fast growing (grade 9). But I didn't yet know if it had metastasized beyond the lymph node into other parts of my body. According to the book they gave me, it could be anywhere between stage 2B and 4. Once we had the scan results, waiting over the Thanksgiving holiday week/weekend for the port surgery seemed to take forever, then it was hard to wait for my SCCA and oncology appointment because it felt like such a long time to waste while my cancer sat there just growning and potentially moving through my lumph nodes!

All along the more information I've gotten, the better I felt, but also all along there's been gray areas. 

The directions for quarantine after my Covid test and before my surgery were kind of fuzzy, since I was given this list of instructions, then specifically told to ignore at least 3 of the items pictured.

The SCCA visit was great for filling in some of those unknowns. Apparently I am a person who likes thorough explanations and tons of information. I had eleventy-seven questions and I felt better once they were (almost) all answered. I have separate pages of questions (and now answers) for basically every doctor, as well as questions about genetics, insurance, medical leave, etc. 

Two days later, last Thursday, I saw the North Star oncologist in Yakima and her recommendations were basically the same as the Seattle oncologist, though her warnings about the serverity of my reaction to the chemo were much less dire. I have a "Teach" scheduled at Northstar tomorrow where I believe they will tell me all about the medicines and risks and side effects and all that. I have another list of questions for tomorrow, of course.

I am scheduled to start chemo on Wednesday. I realized today, after the second (short) crying bout, that I am terrified. I might also be reacting to the timing. Final grades for Fall were due Friday, so I am pretty much done with work stuff until Spring (or possibly Fall, depending on how the chemo goes).  The end of the quarter is often a stressful time. Usually in December I transition into Christmas gifts and travel plans, but this year we're staying in Yakima for chemo. All this means today was kind of an open day, with only the 15 minute echo scheduled. I really don't like not having a plan, and right now, I don't feel like I have almost no idea what will happen later this week. I mean, I'll get medicine, followed by poison (chemo), and then the next day I'll come back for a growth factor shot to help my body make more white blood cells, but how will I feel? how long will the chemo take? how long will I feel bad? will I be able to eat? will I be ill? will I spend all day in the bathroom? will I feel weak? will the first infusion be better or worse than the second? will my hair fall out in the first week? will I care? I don't know any of this. I'm guessing I'll have answers to only some of these questions tomorrow.

According to the SCCA oncologist, I will feel like I have the flu for 5 days every two weeks. According to the Yakima nurse, "I hope it won't be that long," according to the book, the side effects of these chemo medications include nause, vomiting, 90% to total hair loss starting as early as next Wednesday, sore mouth, and much more. According to some podcasts and online cancer groups, I'm going to be absolutely miserable from now until May 4, or longer, or not that long. Or maybe I'll be fine. Ugh, it is hard to plan for misery, but even harder, in some ways, to plan for anything ranging to misery to slight tireness. According to my book, I shouldn't listen to anyone else's experience because everyone cancer and treatment and reaction is different. According to my husband I'll feel better than I think I might. But that's kind of the thing, right? I'm trying to make a plan for misery, mild discomfort, and everything in between. Sigh.

Well, if you've read this far, I am kind of amazed, actually, but the writing was therapeutic for me. I'm feeling better, just getting some of it out. I thought I had some funny, witty, or interesting things to say about this experience, but this is what came out instead. Maybe next time I'll share those strange thoughts, instead of this mix of data and fear and gratefulness. Sigh. Tonight is looking like a night for hugs on the couch while we watch Ghostbusters. 

This Ghostbusters, obviously

Hand-builing Student Portraits

 

Eli Ortega's Dragon (detail of textures)

Earlier this month I wrote about my hand-building students' portraits as they were in the process of building them. They have now finished and I wanted to share the results.

Eli Ortega's dragon (side and back view)

The assignment asks students to create a portrait of person, animal, or creature from real-life or fiction. This quarter we had a dragon, a dog, a stuffed elephant, and a few people. I think the subjects made clear that this project started around Halloween, since we also had Chuckie, Leatherface, and the Phantom of the Opera, as well as Medusa. 

Emily Chaidez's Chuckie sculpture (portrait)

The students were asked to bring in an object or several photos of their subject so that they could sculpt in three dimensions. The challenge is often moving from two- to three-dimensions in their build. Students are so used to seeing flat images, or drawing flat images, that it is a challenge to represent the curves of the face accurately.

Chuckie lost his hands and feet, but I still love the stance he's in here.

This class did not seem to have a lot of trouble, at least compared with other classes, with forming the basic shape of the. face, neck and head. A few students also chose to represent the whole body of their subject, which can lead to other complications.

Crystal Preciado's (Instagram @crys.no) stuffed elephant sculpture

The students who chose to do whole bodies instead of busts had to contend with the position of the legs, arms, and, in some cases, trunks of their subjects. A stuffed subject, like the elephant is a pretty stable form to begin with, but human (or doll) bodies can be challenging because the bodies and limbs are so thin.

The side view of Crystal's elephan shows the length of the tusk and the width of the ears and body.

A couple of students had some trouble with hands or feet breaking on full-body portraits. This quarter the extra challenge for all students, and one that especially impacted some students, was that we had fewer on-campus days than a "normal" Clay 1: Hand-building class.  Usually that class meets 3 days a week for 2 hours. This quarter we met just 2 days a week for 2 hours and the rest of the class was online. 

Phantom of the Opera by Savannah Ross (Instagram @rootbeer.rat) with its mask on.

Students were still able to come into the studio outside of class time, but for some students, getting to campus was sometimes a challenge. Several students, including Emily (Chuckie) and Savannah (Phantom) did much of their building on their own and/or at home.

Phantom with his mask off, notice the interesting texture (can't wait to see it glazed)

I was impressed with the students who worked from home for part of their project, not least because transporting a big heavy lump of clay can be a challenge. Evelyn (Medusa) took her work home to apply the texture to the snake hair after it was hollowed out, meaning it was lighter, but potentially more fragile.

Medusa by Evelyn Ayala-Frustos (Instagram @evelynayalafrutos)

One of the things that I especially like to see across the range of pieces made for this project is the range of textures that students applied to their work. Evelyn's snake scale texture on the hair stands out in particular against her smooth face skin. Ashley (racing dog) and Crystal (stuffed elephant) applied soft textures to their fur/fabric. Elizabeth and Emily both have stitching in their horror move skin surfaces and Savannah's Phantom has a scarred face. 

Evelyn's Medusa from the front

The many texturs in Eli's dragon's skin are the most impressive at this stage.  She did a particularly impressive job of layering textures and transitioning between different carved and applied textures. The texture markedly changes in the back behind the horns and in front of the neck. 

Ashley Boroff's racing dog

This quarter's students seemed to do a lot with contrasting surfaces or layers that were a little unexpected. The goggles on Ashley's dog are an interesting and efficient way to skip crafting eyes (even if that wasn't her intent), and Elizabeth's Leatherface has a face that is also a mask, making for some interesting layering.

Leatherface by Elizabeth Harris

I had the most trouble advising Elizabeth on Leatherface as I'm not familiar with the movie (I don't watch horror movies). Luckilly she had pictures to use as references, but the way the extra face is layered over the actor's face made for some odd positions and levels that contradicted what I usually advise students about proportions and depth.

Leatherface from the side really shows the depth in the eyes and the funny proportions that happen when, I guess, your subject is wearing someone else's face.

An additional challenge of our limited on-campus time is that not all the students were able to take their photos in the school's photo booth. Most students did, but for a few I'm hoping that the glaze pictures will have a bit better lighting and contrast. I didn't share everyone's photo here, but hope that I'll be able to share a few more later.

AnaBeth Montemayor's Corpse Bride was an extra challenge to build because of that long skinny neck

Central Washington Artists' Exhibition Award Winner at Larson Galllery

 

my face bulbs at CWAE this weekend

This weekend was the opening of the Central Washington Artists' Exhibition at Larson Gallery in Yakima. I have two pieces in the show this year, my Chartreucat sculpture and a small wall-installation of face bulbs.

the CWAE program

This is the 64th annual Central Washington Artists' Exhibition and I believe this is the first year in the new Larson Gallery on the new west side campus of Yakima Valley College, behind Taco Bell. The show runs through December 11. The gallery is open Tuesday-Friday 10-5 and Saturdays 12-5.

my installation at CWAE this weekend (I really like the neighboring work by Yu-Hen Dade)

The new gallery is much larger and nicer than the already pretty decent gallery across the street. The new space has multiple rooms, including a totally separate sales gallery with small art and gifts for sale. The new gallery also boasts better parking.

Chartreucat, also at CWAE (picture taken at home)

This was the first year in a bit that I remembered to enter this show. I can't remember if they had a show last year, but it's been a busy couple of years for me. This Chartreucat sculpture was one of several abstract sculptures I started last spring and finished this summer(with one not quite finished yet). I felt pretty good about finding the time to make these pieces.

my award certificate

My wall installation was also built last summer and mostly finished in Spring 2021. This installation won an award, the Jeffery Schaap & Gilbert Young Award, which was great news, and even better when I realized it was a monetary award.

detail with sold stickers Saturday afternoon

The installation features 15 unique face bulbs with a range of features, colors and expressions. When I arrived at the gallery this weekend, a couple was in the process of purchasing a pair of the bulbs. The woman indicated that she liked the masked pieces. Someone asked about the bulbs with plants coming out of their mouths, thinking they were like a scene from Trolls 2 (which I haven't seen).

weeds as speech

I explained that when I made these, I was thinking of the weeds coming out of mouth as a metaphor for hateful language, the way it spreads quickly and chokes out the beautiful flowers or healthy vegetables that might otherwise grow in that space.

invasive choking weeds/speech

Most of the bulbs were specifically created as a reference to the hateful political climate of the past several years. The masks were clearly created post-pandemic, but the screaming faces started showing up before the pandemic in the lead up to the last election.

masked face

 

I believe more of these may have sold since I left the show on Saturday. I was asked to provide some written explanation yesterday for Larson Gallery to use on their social media. It's not up yet, but these may be featured later on Larson Gallery's Facebook or Instagram. 

detail of installation

I'm happy to get these seen. It is sometimes challenging to keep up with teaching, union work, and my own work. Especially when my own work includes making, applying, showing, advertising, and keeping up an online presence here, on my website, and (kind of) on social media. 

my face bulbs and other (abstract) bulbs in my home studio this September

I showed these pieces this summer at my home studio for the Yakima Artists Studio Tour in September, but this was the first year for this show and I think all of us are still kind of gearing back up from pandemic to semi-post-pandemic mode for attending shows and going out in public. It is strange how long it has taken to start to move back to operating how we did before the pandemic.

award page of the CWAE program

After I published this, Larson Gallery added a video tour of the CWAE show:

Solid Sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021 (and earlier examples)

dog with goggles sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021

This past week my handbuilding class was finishing their solid built sculptures. I took some progress photos at the midway point last week, though I haven't yet seen the finished versions. I love this project, both because I think the process and results are fun, but also because I've been doing it without major changes for long enough that I enjoy comparing the results quarter to quarter (Winter 2020, Winter 2019, Winter 2018, Winter 2017, alternate assignment Winter and Spring 2020).

dragon sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021

Before the pandemic, I had hybridized my Intro to Clay and Handbuilding classes, both of which have used this same basic project at various times. I wasn't able to teach this project in my online hand-building class, both because it uses a lot of clay and because most students use an internal armature to support their form while it is wet.

The wooden based of Malea Esqueda's amature (Winter 2019) can be seen coming out from between Groot's legs. The wooden block is covered in plastic and the metal piece continues through his body into his head. 

For this project, most students build with solid clay on a wood and metal armature. We have some standard armatures for all students to use and we often we end up supplementing the metal armature with wooden dowels added to support arms, legs, horns, snouts, etc.

Jennifer Martinez's Judas sculpture(Winter 2019) is built around a metal and wood armature and also has a wooden dowel shoved into the front of the face to help support that cantilevered form

This quarter most students used the class armatures for their sculpture, but some students ended up starting work at home, meaning they didn't have access to the class armatures. Without a stiff armature to support the work, students need to either avoid having heavy parts on top of narrow necks or limbs or, alternately, they can makeshift their own armatures. 

Isabella Johnson (Winter 2019) used an external clay armature to support the dogs head while building.

One student this quarter came to class with a sculpture about halfway shaped. The head of her full-body Chuckie doll was being supported with a dowel under the chin. A cardboard box may have been helping to hold up the body.

young man sculpture, in progress (a little earlier in the process than the dog and dragon), Fall 2021

Though some students did work on this at home this quarter, I never tried to assign the whole project for my online students because cutting the piece apart to hollow can be intimidating. Doing these cuts on campus in the studio allows me to support and encourage students when they are cutting, give them assurance that they are cutting correctly, and then physically help them pull and lift when the materials around the armature get stuck.

after the armature was removed, there was still some plastic and tape stuck in the narrow neck. As the head was lifted, the plastic pulled out like scarves in a magic trick

Regardless of what it is made of, the armature helps support and hold up a heavy solid mass of clay when it is balanced on top of skinny form (like a head on a neck) or when it is cantilevered out over nothing (as a dog's head is positioned in front of its body). Not all forms or sculptures require an internal armature, but those who do will eventually need to remove it.

in this dog sculpture built in Winter 2020, the armature held up the dog's head and body until the student got around to adding the legs 

Hollowing the form is an important part of the process, as firing solid clay will cause explosions during firing. Besides being able to be fired within the timeline of the class, a hollowed form is lighter and uses less clay. We can recycle the clay that is eventually removed from the interior of the sculpture.

students at the very start of the solid portrait project, Winter 2020

Starting to build means slapping clay onto an armature or simply starting with a large block of clay. Once their forms and surfaces have been shaped with paddles, hands, and other tools, students allow the surface of the clay to dry somewhat. The inside dries more slowly meaning that when they cut off a section of the sculpture, the inside is soft and relatively easy to remove while the outside is firm and doesn't change shape (much) during carving.

Sean Wilkinson's Dionysis sculpture, amature visible with head removed, Winter 2020

Most students cut off the top of the head, exposing the plastic or paper wrapped armature inside. Then they can pull out the metal part of the armature, which detaches from the wooden base. In some cases the plastic or paper wrapped around the needs to be cut, other times it can simply be pulled out separately.

Jessica Buchholtz's Grinch sculpture, being hollowed, Winter 2020

In some cases, one cut across the head is all that is required. Students can hollow the head from the top down, hollow out the top section separately, then reattach them. The shoulders can be hollowed from the bottom, and all sections are accessible. Other times the sculpture needs to be cut into more sections so as to reach the skinniest sections. This is often the case with full body sculptures where limbs are hard to access, but it can also be the case when the limb or neck is particularly narrow.

animated woman sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021, the armature is clearly the only thing holding up the big head on that skinny neck

As I'm writing this post on the weekend with a Monday due date. I'm looking forward to coming in on Monday to see what the current group of students have finished. This quarter this hybrid class had less on-campus time than I usually prefer (and I'm looking forward to returning to a "normal" schedule in Winter), but it was so much more fun to be in the room while folks were working, after being virtual for the past year plus. Looking back at past sculptures in. progress, and the final results, these students seem to be comparable in the scale and complexity of their forms

Jaxx Brown's Sully, in progress, from Winter 2019

It seemed to me that this quarter's hand-building students were also feeding off each others' energy a bit--one of the main things I missed from on-campus classes. COVID restrictions mean that we have to keep more spread out this quarter than before the pandemic, and, of course, everyone is wearing masks in the classroom. We also are having online critiques to try to address the spacing and timing issues, but, on the bright side, all students are in the same room at the same time for class. Being in the room together means they can see each other's progress, learn from each other's techniques, ideas, and challenges. I only wish they had a bit more time with me during class time.

Medusa, in progress, Fall 2021

This quarter I am also teaching a hybrid Functional Pottery class. That class has lost a lot of students from the start of the quarter and is less than half full at this point. This is unusual for a pottery class, but losing a number of students isn't entirely unusual for a class that filled late. The Functional Pottery class filled late this fall because it was added late. It was added late because I was waiting for permission to teach it on campus, and that permission was waiting on COVID restrictions and mandates.

Leatherface sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021 

The loss of students in the pottery class does have a negative impact, as far as I can tell, on the character of the whole class. I have observed for years that classes with a certain threshhold of committeed students tend to result in improved work from all students, and similarly, classes with a certain threshhold of less committed students can tip the balance into incomplete assignments and less time spent in the studio or working on projects. The students in either case feed off each others' energy. Intermediate students in the room are a positive influence on beginners who see how the intermediate students work. Beginners can directly learn techniques from more experienced students, but they also see the modeling of appropriate studio ettiquite and observe how often those students come in to practice and how they spend their class time.

Seated dancer sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021

I'm not sure if most students make arrangements with each other ahead of time to come in to the studio on the same days or if it happens serendipitously, but a few studenst throwing outside of class tends to result in more students throwing outside of class. I've always guessed that coming in to a nearly empty studio gives students the idea that practicing isn't really something that others do, so they don't choose to do it either. It seems to become a reinforcing cycle of more or less work.

Stuffed elephant sculpture, in progress, Fall 2021

This quarter the handbuilders are at a bit of an advantage over the potters, in that they can take their work home to build on it, and some of them are doing so, but I also have at least a handful of students who come in regularly to work in the studio outside of class time. It helps that their class was larger to begin with, but as a whole, they've also been more consistent about getting the preparation work done before class and then finishing and submitting assignments and projects. As with any class, there are some students working hard in both groups. 

Samantha Reynolds' work in progress, Winter 2019

In any case, I'm looking forward to seeing the portraits finished tomorrow and I'm looking forward to seeing what my potters chose to do for their last projects.  Next week should also be our first glaze firing of the quarter, and the first gas kiln (reduction) firing since March 2020.