Week 6, Staying Strong

CW: Cancer, but also some ceramics again!

Last week I completed 3 of the first 4 chemo infusions and this week I'm about done with 3 of the first four periods of yucky symptoms. I go in for my last dose of Adriamycin and Cytoxan next Wednesday. This round was the toughest as far as nausea and appetite loss. Instead of feeling basically ok(ish) on Wednesday evening and Thursday, like the last two times, I felt pretty terrible on Wednesday and had to go to bed early. 

I worked out today. Very low or no weights, and no impact, but I broke a sweat and felt good at the end. This was about the first time that I got warm enough during a workout to take off my long sleeves, too (but not quite ready to let the chilly bald head out).

In previous weeks, the day after chemo I felt ok, then Friday, as the IV anti-nausea medicine wore off, I felt worse. This time around I felt bad right away on Thursday and had to take the other kind of nausea medicine. They prescribed me two types of anti-nausea medicine, one that's in the IV and one that isn't.  I can use the one for breakthrough nausea on Wednesday and Thursday then alternate the two starting on Friday.

I took this picture after one of my last workouts before beginning chemo. It's maybe a bit of a morbid before, in preparation for a weaker, less healthy after, but I honestly wanted to document those changes that happen during the process.

My nausea continued through Tuesday this week, and was accompanied by an aching chest and torso. I choose to interpret the soreness and pain as the cancer getting killed in that area. I'm not sure if that's exactly what's happening, but that's what it feels like and being in pain while believing that the treatment is working feels better than being in pain and believing it's because I've been poisoned.

I didn't read anything about cancer this time around. In fact, my notebook has directions telling me that I'm not allowed to read anything more about cancer. Instead my carefully curated book and media diet has been carefully curated to include mostly things that will make me laugh. Lots of people gave me suggestions in the last few weeks and I've been enjoying Derry Girls when I can't work up the energy to read and Terry Pratchett, Pride and Prejudice, and the Eyre Affair when I can. Ironically most of those books are rereads, but I've found that's where my patience is right now. 

So many books! Thanks to Linda, Julie, Heidi, Nialle, Shannon, Terri and Jane, but I've lost track of who sent the one on the far right (it didn't have the sender's name, but I think this person mentioned it in an email or text or FB message way back at the start of this journey).

My friends have also sent me books. I literally have more than half a shelf now of books sent or brought or gift carded by friends in both Washingtons (state and DC) and Iowa. I've also been gifted a puzzle from Spain (because Brooke knows that's the kind of interruptable activity that I can handle right now) cancer hats from Wisconsin and Washington, and ceramic yip yips from Minnesota (I know they aren't really the Martians from Sesame Street, but that's what these creatures by Jennifer A Murphy remind me of). 

My ceramic yip yips and one of several books sent by the lovely and thoughful Julie and Linda

During my infusion last week I listened to a meditation program for cancer patients, but that is soothing and doesn't count as reading about cancer. The meditation helped calm me down quite a lot actually, as I was pretty anxious and worried about this round and my reaction to it (I knew that the side effects were likely to get worse with each round). The thing I really liked about the mediation, which was aimed at breast cancer patients, was that it mentioned how to react to the stupid things people say. Basically, it said we might not know why people make these suggestions, but we don't need to pay attention.

the meditation I used last week

The night before chemo I had worked myself into a borderline freak out about whether the chemo was working, etc. I ended up chatting with my friend Linda who asked some strategic questions that managed to calm me down quite a bit. She asked me what evidence I had for my worries, and when I went to actually list the evidence it dissolved around me. I also took advantage of talking to the social worker when she came around during my infusion and that helped a bit too, but by then I had some evidence to contradict the worries of the day before.

The next day, when I met with the oncologist, she asked if I felt the lump shrinking and I said no, not really. But she felt both the lump in my breast and the lymph node under my arm and said she felt they were shrinking. My knee-jerk reaction was to think that she was just placating me, but she honestly doesn't seem like someone who is overly optisimistic or would say something just to make me feel better. She's a bit brusque. When I first met her she said something to the effect of, you're smart, you've already talked to the SCCA (Seattle Cancer Care Alliance) people, you don't need me to tell you all of it again. I was a bit taken aback, but her plan matched the SCCA plan and straight-forward and efficient seem like good traits for a doctor.

So many books from The Haunted Bookshop in Iowa City by way of Heidi and Nialle!

Anyway, I posted about what my oncologist said on Facebook and presented it as good news (because it is). Here's where my community again comes in to bouy me up. I suggested that she's probably better than me at gauging the size of a lumpy thing inside a squishy thing. My friends Shannon agreed and argued that gauging the size of a lump in a breast is a bit like learning to throw pots; it takes practice. It's a good and helpful comparison. Of course an oncologist is better at judging lump size. I'm better at throwing pots because I practice a lot, but I also don't have an emotional and fear reaction when I'm throwing a pot. I'm guessing my brusque and intelligent oncologist isn't in pain or terrified when she checks the size of my lump, and she's got a lot more practice than I do.

I also got a second bit of information that day that made me feel better and function better through some of the side effects from this round. When I go in for an infusion, the first thing I get is IV steroids and anti-nausea medicine. Then comes the chemo poisons. One nurse gets my port accessed and starts the steroids/nausea medicine, but two nurses have to check the chemo before it gets hooked up. I'm a big fan, by the way, of this approach. The first time my Adriamycin was labeled incorrectly and they had to send it back to the pharmacy. It makes me feel safer knowing there are three people involved in verifying what I'm getting is correct. 

On the advice of a friend, I bought a silk scarf because they said it felt good. It's true, but the added advantage is that my young neighbor thinks I should have more hair so she can style it. This scarf is long enough to style into a very long ponytail. The only trouble is that she didn't leave much on my head, so the first picture I took didn't really show what she was excited about.

Last Wednesday, as they were checking my information and my drugs, the one nurse started saying that what she was looking at on the computer was "way way good."  I asked what she meant and she said that my immune system numbers were "way way good."  Earlier the oncologist had told me my numbers. My white blood cells were up becaues of the growth factor, I am slightly anemic and something else was a bit low. I didn't understand what she was saying except that I was cleared for more chemo. The nurses phrased it in a way that made me feel a lot better about the situation. I'm guessing my numbers are "way way good" in comparsion to other chemo patients, not, like, the general population, but I'll take it. 

My friend Nina brought me this ultra snuggly warm hat. I think she heard me say that I had to wear two outside. This thing is sooo soft on my bald head. It feels great and keeps me very warm.

I feel that I can interpret "way way good" immune system numbers as a sign that I'm doing well, but more specifically, I can choose to interpret that as meaning that I'm doing what I should be doing. I'm not teaching this quarter, which I think is good, as I'm feeling sick for 5 days in a row, but it also means that I've got more time to myself on the days when I am feeling ok. As I like to keep busy and have some kind of structure to my days, I've been assigning myself the work of eating, drinking, walking, and generally trying to take care of myself (although the baseline for that is different than it used to be). 

I've been keeping a log of symptoms in this Personal Health Tracker for Cancer patients that showed up in our Little Free Library. (I'm convinced someone who knew I was dealing with cancer left it specifically for me. Thanks unknown person!) I've also been tracking other kinds of things I'm doing for my health in my own notebook. My motivation is that I like checklists, but also I figured I might be able to kind of gauge whether things I've been doing are related to symptoms or how I'm feeling. I'm also supposed to drink 3 liters of water each day and as that's a lot, it helps to write it down. So far the main thing I've learned is that on the days when I feel particularly bad, I just don't write anything down. 

the tracker that was left in our little free library

The things I think I'm doing for my heath are drinking enough, eating (maybe not enough, but better than if I didn't have eating as a goal), doing some kind of meditation, yoga, walking or exercise (though this has been surprisingly difficult for someone who is used to walking to and from work and working out pretty before breakfast most days). I also figure that reading for pleasure and trying to do something fun or creative are also helpful.

The exercise has been the biggest surprise for me. I remember when I was newly pregnant and was very frustrated that I couldn't keep up with others on a walk or a hike. I honestly didn't feel that being not hugely pregnant should make me get winded so fast.  I feel similarly on the chemo. I'm 3 infusions in to a 16 infusion cycle (or 6 weeks into a 20 week ordeal) and I already am finding it challenging to go for a short walk around Davis. A half hour yoga session requires me to take breaks and I'm basically never getting 10,000 steps, though before the chemo my daily goal was 12,000 and I often got much more. Obviously the freezing fog and unpleasantly chilly weather (and ice, and snow) is impacting my walking, but I'm still frustrated aboutmy lack of walking endurance. 

my symptoms tracker in the Write Track book

The main identifiable symptom is nausea, but that seems to manifest as both nausea and indigestion (even when I haven't eaten much). I'm still exploring the possibility that small amounts of dairy are at fault for some of the indigestion.  The ice cream last time around knocked me out for two days of severe indigestion. Since then I've been avoiding all milk and ice cream, but I'd still been using a bit of butter and small amounts of cheddar cheese until yesterday when I realized that the previous days' symptoms (indigestion, sore back) were pretty similar to the ice cream symptoms. I decided not to have any more cheese, and though I felt better yesterday, I was also on schedule to feel better, so it's hard to know just yet what's the cause. Also a lot of food I usually eat has dairy in it!

I am also waking up with headaches. I take medication for migraines, which used to interrupt my life regularly. I've been pretty good with them for a number of years because I know my triggers (stress, too much or too little caffeine, lack of sleep, etc) and avoid them. Waking up with a headache isn't all that unusual for me in times of stress, but I feel frustrated because I don't think I'm that stressed except for the, y'know, general having-cancer stress. And maybe a bit of my-nephew-has-cancer stress and I suppose when I can't get through my breakfast I don't finish my tea (not enough caffeine) and when I don't feel good my sleep is a bit interrupted.

I also have soreness all over for days after the chemo. This time I know it lasted through Saturday, but Sunday and Monday were the days when my discomfort or my mood prevented me from writing anything down until after the fact. I also have bone pain. This comes from the growth factor. The first round it started exactly a week after the chemo. This time I felt like it started earlier, but before the pain in my back happened both as a symptom of eating ice cream (lactose) and from the growth factor, so it's a little hard to tell whether the growth factor or the cheese got me on Tuesday. The bone pain was pretty strong yesterday and was not accompanied by indigestion, so at least that's a known cause. Somehow it bothers me less knowing that the growth factor is responsible for that pain.

my own water/medicine/activity tracker

I feel like my symptoms are both minor and sucky. I often feel that writing here helps me think through things or see them in a way I haven't before. Kind of like when I was chatting with Linda and she asked me some questions and my answers made me realize I was feeling differently than the evidence warranted. So I've been feeling like I'm being pretty unreasonably whiny about minor symptoms like pain and nausea that are either eliminated or severely reduced when I take medicine for them. And the other symptoms of getting winded, feeling indigestion, and generally feeling low all feel like things that should be within my control. Maybe if I had walked more when I was feeling really bad I would be able to walk more now. I can vaguely recognize that maybe I'm being harder on myself than warranted, but writing out what I'm feeling in words (not just a chart) helps me gauge the size of the issue. I've got four paragraphs of symptoms. Maybe that's not nothing. Maybe I should be a little gentler on myself.

Ok, but it wasn't all moaning and feeling awful this week. I also managed to find a narrow lever of motivation, wedge it up onto a tiny little fulcrum of energy, and slide myself into my studio this week. I wasn't sure I was up for throwing (wedging, lifting, cleaning, pushing, all in a studio not connected to central heat, and then needing to trim the next day seemed like too much commitment). 

plates waiting to be fired

Instead I inched my way into the studio with little tasks. The first day I cleaned bats. I'd thrown some plates back in October or November when I thought I could make Christmas gifts this year, but I'd never gotten around to cleaning up. The next day I prepped some too dry clay for the pugmill. A few days later, I pugged some clay and used just a bit of it to start a couple of small sculptures. Turning on the space heater earlier in the day and knowing my clay is waiting has gotten me into the studio most days this week. And making with clay just makes me feel better. It's not exactly exercise, but it does feel like medicine. It feels like being me. I didn't set myself much as a goal other than spending some time on these. I figure at this scale with two pieces, I have time to finish the building and work on the surfaces before I go in for my next chemo. I'm guessing I won't want to work on them after that. 

an awkward vase (in progress) based on a sketch from years ago

Getting into the studio provides a mental and physical change of pace to my day and gives me something pleasant to do. It also gives me time to listen to an audiobook without getting distracted and takes my mind away from thinking about cancer or chemo. Of course it helps that the orange cat likes to come in and jump up on the table when I'm working. 

A kind-of cactus I wanted to try again after the first one broke

I was scaring myself again this week, so a change of activity was useful. My friend started chemo with the type I will be having for the last 12 weeks. Her dose is higher than mine will be, but she had a really tough week and that's been scaring me a bit. I was hoping that my next dose will be the worst of the whole 16 as that's what one of the nurses suggested. My next one is the last of the Adriamycin and Cytoxan together. After that it is 12 weeks of Taxol. 

When she was giving me my growth factor shot, the nurse said that I wouldn't need those shots during Taxol because it will be less hard on my immune system. Actually, she said something along the lines of "woah, you're on the tough one now." She also indicated that the nausea won't be as bad on the Taxol. 

I started to work on the final glaze layer for this guy, but there's something wrong with how the second layer of underglaze stuck, so I'm not sure I want to mess with it. Clay is more fun than underglaze.

But my friend's experience was scaring me, so I called my other friend whose done Adriamycin/Cytoxan and Taxol before. She calls the Adriamycin the "dreaded red" and indicated it was pretty rough for her. She actually had to check whether she'd done Taxol and then indicated it wasn't as bad as the A/C. That matches what the nurse and doctor said, but it's nice to have confirmation from someone whose been there.  

It was a balm to talk to her, and not just because she had good news about Taxol. There's something about talking with someone who has had the same experience or who is having the same experience that can be helpful, but especially so if they have insight about how they think about the whole process. Her advice was to try to focus on one day at a time and not try to think too far ahead. I like to be in control, have a long-term plan, and know what's coming up, which cancer and chemo don't really allow for. Sometimes talking with someone who has also struggled with the changes that cancer and chemo forces can feel both validating and refreshing.

I talked to my brother this afternoon, too, and we agreed that maybe it's not important to have the "right mindset" but the right mindset for you. Some of the overly cheerful or everything happens for a reason stuff makes me want to punch, but I appreciate that it works for others. The way I like to think about the pain in my chest as evidence of the battle going on inside might not work for everyone, but it works for me. Realizing I've been doing this for 6 weeks already (wow) makes me feel like I've accomplished something and thinking about my strong body and "way way good" immune system (so far) make me feel like I do have some control (and I don't need to hear if that's likely to change or whatever).

Actual Studio Time!

The small sculpture I'm working on right now

I got into the studio last weekend. I can't now remember why, but I had some time in the afternoon on Sunday, so I turned on my studio heater, cleaned my wheel, and threw some pieces.

thrown parts, including the main structure of the piece

This week's snowstorms resulted in canceled school and sports events, so I managed to get back in the studio on at least 3 days during the week and some time on Saturday.

texture in progress

The little push I needed to get going was that I had been asked to bring "something no one has ever seen" to Artebella Gallery in March. I don't know if I'll actually be able to finish and fire this piece, but its worth a try. 

a simplified similar form from a few years ago

The form is a reiteration of my other plantlike bulbous forms. I threw all of the parts because that's a bit faster than hand-building them. I got them together on the weekend, and have been refining the form and adding texture since then.

more thrown parts and a bowl I also made.

I have some ideas that I'd like to try in the studio, but the rest of them really require more mental energy than I can expend right now. The bulk of my mental energy is going into classes and union work right now. My priority was to just get something made, even if it wasn't the thoughtful work that I'd like to do.

holding up one of the parts with a hair spray bottle

The next month or so of studio time (whatever I can squeeze in on weekends and evenings) will be spent finishing this piece and possibly glazing some mugs from summer.

politics mugs in progress

Once I get some serious chunks of studio time, I'd like to work on my political mugs, finishing some sculpture pieces, and working on something else I'm not even confident enough to mention just yet. If I do it, it will be a big departure from what I'm used to and will relate to the political mugs.

this poor sculpture has been incomplete for years now

Those Times When I Can't Get Motivated

In the last few days two people have asked if I'm working on any art projects. Sadly, I haven't been in the studio at all this year. I've been having difficulty getting motivated. This is odd for me. I think I'm usually pretty good about just showing up to the studio, motivation or not.

last year at this time I had work in a Nasty Woman show at Yakima Maker's Space

In fact, I keep telling myself that I just need to get in there. Lying in bed at night, I'll tell myself that tomorrow I'll just go in and clean. Or I'll just go in and take pictures of the work I glazed and fired in December. Or may I'll just coil build something--that shouldn't be too difficult.

Last winter I was making interesting changes to my hand-building class.

But the next day comes and I find that I really need to start the laundry, or clean the kitchen, or grade for class, or go for a walk with friends, and I don't do the studio work. My daughter, too has been highly persuasive. Last quarter I felt that I spent too much time on the weekends and evenings doing class work, so I've made a concerted effort this quarter to limit what school work I do at home.

Instead she and I read, play a game, draw, go for a bike ride (early January was fairly mild in Yakima), or do some other project together. Somehow, though, she often laments that we haven't "done anything" and then I feel guilty about how I've spent my time.

This weekend's activities have included sewing and making Valentines cards with her 4H club.

I'm a worrier. I can find something to worry about with little provocation. Before Christmas I worried about whether everyone would be upset about the presents I got them. I really worried that the Lego set we bought for my nephew without looking at the age recommendation would be too difficult (it wasn't). I worry all the time that I am not doing all I can to make my classes good enough. I worry that I don't exercise enough or I consume too much sugar. I worry that our house is too messy and our diet includes too few vegetables. I worry that I haven't been blogging twice a week though I used to post that often.

And, logically, I am fully aware that all of these are stupid worries. The most important part of Christmas is just seeing folks. My nephew is a perfectly competent Lego builder with a slew of family members happy to help him. I work damn hard on my classes and they're pretty good. The point of exercise is to keep my calm and reduce my impulse to worry and the point of the blog is to help me think through things that are on my mind. We should all probably eat more vegetables.

Or, as Newt Scamander (and a bunch of folks before him) points out, it's stupid to waste energy worrying.

There's a sign in the gym where I workout in the morning that says "if you've stopped being better, you've stopped being good". Which, of course, I interpreted to mean that since I haven't been in my home studio in a meaningful way since July, I am no longer an artist.

What you do everyday day is who you are (that might be an "inspirational" poster in the gym, too, now that I think about it). What I do all everyday is teach, think about teaching, think about our union, read, and hang out with my family. What I don't do everyday (or even every week lately) is make my own clay stuff, or even really think about making my own clay stuff.

I made these mugs this summer and even glazed some of them in December.

I've been trying to find this meme I saw late last year about women feeling exhausted trying to work, raise kids, be financially independent, go to the gym, have a perfect smoky eye, and all the things that seem to be expected of us. (Full disclosure: I've literally never thought about trying to have the perfect smoky eye.) I can't remember the punchline and now I'm wondering if there was one. The thing that resonated is the feeling that we "should" and the feeling that we can't possibly.

I have thought about making the perfect angry eye...in clay.

I recently came across an article about an author, Pat Barker, who says that a writer "must resist the urge to clean." I didn't actually read the article, but I think that's kind of the point, too. There's so many thing to fill my days, and so many things I'd like to do or have done. It seems like a good idea to have a clean house, happy family, healthy lifestyle, make good art, be the best possible teacher, grade submissions quickly, connect individually with all of my students, work out every day, read all the books, do projects with my daughter, attend her games and practices, go to interesting events in town, travel, talk to my husband, see my family more often, and blog regularly about all of it.

But it can't be done. Choices must be made. Having a clean house means taking time away from writing, or making art. (I've been writing this morning, therefore our house isn't clean today.) Making good art means making art everyday or at least a few days every week, which isn't compatible with maintaining a high quality, dynamic, and responsive online class and being an involved parent. I could probably do more of the former if I didn't teach online. But I do. I teach at a college that emphasizes teaching, at the obvious cost of studio time or "research."

As one of my colleagues pointed out the other day, looking at what happens to teaching at some research institutions, I'm where I want to be. But periodically I have to drag myself back through this  reality check about what I have prioritized and why. Looking back through my blog, the last time I wrote about this struggle was almost exactly two years ago. And in 2011 I wrote about having this struggle, and needing to pull myself back after comparing my work and my choices to other artists across the country. In 2012, I did a project aimed at addressing the difficulty of getting into the studio during the academic year.

Balance

If i looked harder, I could probably find more examples of the times I've moaned, or worried, or justified, or taken action to try to address this fundamental struggle. For now, I'll tag this post as "work life balance" and go hang out with my family, or maybe I'll clean the house.

Looking Back: Year in Review

Annual Photo Album

Every year before Christmas I made a photo album featuring photos of my daughter with family and friends. I've been doing this since 2011. I make the photo album online and order copies for our family, the grandparents, and the aunts and uncles. Making the album feels a bit like working out. I dislike starting but feel better after it's done. I do enjoy some parts of actually putting the album together, but the process is exhausting and often frustrating. The biggest stressor is always trying to make sure that all the family is represented equally.

7 years of photo albums

I don't remember to take photographs very often at family events and only one side of the extended family consistently does remember. So the photo album always has candid photos of our family, usually featuring cats, and a bunch of posed and candid photos taken by my Dad and brother, who remember to take photographs. This sometimes leaves a gaping hole where all the visits with the other side of the family should be. It stresses me out because it makes it look like I've excluded part of the family when really it's just down to who remembers to take out the camera.

Our big family project of the past few weeks--Legoland Yakima

Most years, with my family far away and my mother-in-law close by, we remember to take photos for the big event of traveling to see family and forget to take pictures the many times we visit with Grandma. This year Grandma moved away too, so maybe we'll remember to take enough photos of everyone for next year. I guess that's a silver lining.

There were an extraordinary amount of cat pictures this year.

This year, without any family in-state, we didn't do much for Thanksgiving, so I had time to start on the photo album early (usually I panic and start it right after the quarter ends). The first step is going through all my photos from the year (or since mid-December when I made the last album) and looking for the family pictures in amongst pictures of my work, my students work, and the cats. I was really surprised by what I saw when looking back at the photos from last year.

Busy Quarter

This quarter has felt exceedingly busy, busier than most quarters, for a variety of reasons that mostly matter only to me. I'm always busy, but this year the busy has been heavily focused on school-related stuff and I've spent very little time making my own work, doing shows, or even applying to or planning shows.

Also we're getting ready for the fall Clay Sale at YVC (November 29 from 11-7)

Whether the busy quarter is just a normal thing that is only noticeable in the moment, or whether this quarter is unusual, the feeling has been that I'm busier with my day-job than usual. I've felt like I'm working hard and still barely keeping up. When a break comes, like it did over Thanksgiving, it feels great to do very little.

I do have excellent support at YVC, our Program Assistant made this t-shirt that we'll be selling at clay say for $15.

During this summer, I felt strange and didn't even make work in my studio during most of August. This fall I have neglected this blog a bit, both because I feel like I spend too much time already on the computer doing grading, and because I haven't felt like I've done that much worth writing about. (Who really wants to hear about the nuts and bolts of my attempt to gamify my classes? Me!)

Last Year in Review

plates for my brother

When I looked back at my pictures from December, I was surprised to see how much I'd done last year. Actually, I was surprised at a how much I'd done from December through March. Last December I was finishing both a custom set of cat nesting dolls for my nephew AND a set of dishes for my brother and sister-in-law. How did I find the time to do that? 

nesting cats for my nephew

In January I had new work at a Nasty Woman exhibition at Yakima Maker Space and in February I had work at an Art as Activism show in Hood River. I also undertook a major studio clean-up project in January that I finally finished in May. Why did I have so much extra time?

planter commission for my aunt

In February and March I finished and shipped a commission of planter sculptures for my aunt. In February I also installed new work at Yakima Maker's Space and at the end of March I presented twice at NCECA! Also, though I haven't written about it, I did finals and finals grading at NCECA and the day I came back, then immediately spend my Spring "break" doing an on-campus ESCALA training before beginning both the Spring Quarter and my ESCALA project.

NCECA 2018

But it didn't even end there, I had work in yet another show in April at Boxx Gallery in Tieton, in May at  Gallery One in Ellensburg, and immediately after the quarter ended, I made two sets of new work for an Art a Day show in Hood River in August. Then I joined a new gallery in Yakima. And during this time made a bunch of demonstration videos for hand-building, flipped my classes, our cat died and we adopted three more, and I made a set of 3D printed work for the YVC Viticulture program. I didn't make any work in August, in part, because I was exhausted (also, I wanted to do all this gamification and rewards for my online class).

Political Bulb from one of the installations last year

I'm exhausted even now. I guess I went full speed ahead through Winter break, through Spring break, and even skipped my usual "buffer week" in June. No wonder I haven't felt like doing anything this fall.

Best Friend at 20 years

What it takes to be an artist and a parent

A lot of people who take sabbaticals go away for at least a portion of that time. Many travel abroad, others go to workshops, conferences or residencies in another part of this country. For what I wanted to do during my sabbatical leaving my Yakima studio didn't make a lot of sense, but last week I could understand the advantage of getting away.

Missoula Children's Theater was in town and my daughter asked to audition. After she made it clear how much she wanted to do it, we agreed to let her audition and she was cast in a small part. Yakima Schools so far haven't impressed me with their ability to communicate with parents, so I shouldn't have been surprised that the communication broke down between MCT and the school district. The directors scheduled practice during school (and inconveniently the play is happening at a different school than the one my daughter attends). When I pointed this out to the director, he indicated surprise that the kids had school at 2:30 during the week, but it was too late to adjust the schedule.

MCT backdrop

I'm glad my daughter got the opportunity to take part in the production. To my surprise, she loved just about every bit of her experience. However, because of the schedule, I had to leave my studio early three days last week and start my day late once to transport my daughter to and from the rehearsals. To be fair, I had a couple other commitments outside of the studio that interrupted my work time as well. My husband helped when he could: when rehearsal started after the end of his work shift.

The advantage of taking a sabbatical in town is that my time is flexible. I can transport my daughter (and others) to and from various locations during the day when other parents are working. However, the risk of having (and admitting to having) flexible time, is that it sometimes is interpreted as free time.

My pet peeve during the summer is the assumption that since I am in a room attached to my home, I am not working (and am therefore available to do other things). I cringe when I am asked, "Since you aren't doing anything today, could you...." I am doing something and am therefore not free to do something else, though I have varying levels of success getting other people to understand this. Because I view my art making as a job, part of my career, and not as a hobby for my spare time, I am pretty strict about setting aside hours for work and hours for not-work. During my sabbatical, I work from the time I drop off my daughter at school until she gets home. If I pick her up, my day ends earlier than if my husband picks her up. This has generally been my summer schedule as well.

When I am teaching, I try to keep work at work and not bring grading or planning home too often. Just the same, when I am working in the studio I try to be done when my daughter is done so I can spend time with my family. It is, of course, harder to work with my daughter home and tends to cause problems like forgetting to cover my work (so it won't dry out).

When my daytime work schedule is interrupted I find it frustrating because it makes the entire week less productive. If I can't get as much done in a week, I run the very real risk of the clay drying out too quickly. Early in the week I threw some work, but then I lost almost 8 or 9 hours of scheduled work time to transporting kids and other appointments. There are entire pieces I didn't touch all week. Friday I had to spray some with water and wrap them tightly in plastic in hopes that they won't dry out before I can get to them this week.

thrown work, unfinished

The missing studio time makes me feel a bit worried about getting everything done on time, but it is a passing comment from another parent that was annoying me all day Friday. The other mother assumed I had spent my entire day sitting at the school watching the kids rehearse. I'm sure the other mother didn't attach a value judgement to her assumption, but I am so accustomed to the attached value judgement that I am quick to react, at least internally, to comments about how I spend my time during the day on sabbatical or in the summer.

There is this perverse bit of mommy guilt that I think a lot of moms today experience. This nagging voice tells me, "since I could be watching my kid, I should be watching my kid." The logical part of my brain (the part that knows what it takes to craft work and to keep on schedule for an upcoming show) reassures me that I need to put in the hours in the studio to get the work done on time. However, that little sliver of guilt rubs at the surface, speaking in the voice of older parents who assure me that "this time goes by so quickly." And annoyingly, frustratingly, against my will, I notice that sliver more each time some other parent or friend or family member assumes that my studio time is less a real job than if I walked into a different building at a set time. There seems to be an assumption that time spent in the studio (in anything besides an essential, daily, hourly JOB) is less important than any hours or minutes I could spend with or near my daughter.

some work I did finish last week

I wrote this post out of a sense of frustration. Ironically, once I had written that last paragraph, I felt much better, having just gotten it out there. I haven't cut the cathartic paragraph and I now include this self-reflective epilogue (of sorts) because I find three things worth sharing in this post: 

1) Other moms (and maybe dads) may share my feeling of not being "allowed" a life outside of the kids. We need to allow ourselves to be individuals separate from our kids, even if just for a short time.

2) Writing about  frustrations can be cathartic. Whether it is for an audience or not, the process of writing has helped me identify what is bothering me and brainstorm a solution (on more occasions that this one). Writing is good for us as artists and as people. (Students, I'm talking to you!)

3) Future artists and friends and family of future artists, please try to be aware that making art takes time. If you want to be an artist, you must allow yourself time to make the work, as well as time to plan and fail and try new things and think about your work. If you want to truly support your artist friends, acknowledge that their work takes time to make and accept that they cannot blow it off, even if no one is watching. If you pressure them to abandon their studio time, it is just the same as pressuring them to skip class or call in sick to work. The result may interfere with their ambitions and their career opportunities.

Press Mold Bulbs

One of the potential problems with writing a blog about my process in the studio is that much of my day to day work is pretty repetitive. Yesterday I make almost a dozen pieces, but each one was made using a press mold of the same form. So, basically, this is what I did all day.

I have a couple plaster molds I made years ago to simplify the process of forming these "bulbs."

I pushed a thin layer of clay into both sides of the two-part molds, which are keyed to line up the halves together.

I added a layer of dark slip to the interior of both sides before closing the mold.

I scored and slipped the edges of both pieces of clay before pushing the molds together. Roughing up the edges and adding liquid clay (slip) helps the two pieces of clay to stick together inside the closed mold.

Once the two halves of the mold are together, the porous plaster absorbs some of the moisture from the wet clay, causing the clay pieces to shrink inside the mold and pull away from the wall of the mold slightly.

When the mold is opened up, the "bulb" form should pop out easily.

The seam is visible and needs to be smoothed, but the form is strong and can be decorated and altered. Lather, rinse, repeat.

My goal this summer is to form and fire 100 bulbs to use for a wall installation in a show next year. I've formed roughly a third of the pieces I need to make. I am waiting for most of the pieces to dry and be fired. I have two more in the mold drying right now.

an older iteration of my "bulb" installation