Tea Breaks & Clay Days

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We ventured to another time, where people were one with the clay. Entering the classroom was to know that nothing else would exist for seven hours. Just you, your hands and mind wrestling with the clay.

The struggle was real, and it was beautiful.

We made tea when our hands could no longer understand the signals from our weary minds and when the body was too exhausted from spiraling, wedging and throwing the clay.

We’d sit outside on the wooden benches drinking slowly and breathing even slower to try and attempt it once again.

Here we all were, each with a quiet fight all our own.

I grew frustrated.

I cursed at the clay in my mind and thought, ” how do my hands and mind keep missing one another?” Like star crossed lovers never to kiss. So close, yet so far.

And she told us of Japan. Artist in residence for three months, when all she thought every morning as she cast her sheets aside, gazing out to the grey shackled rooftops-“No, I’m not home I’m still in Japan. Way too early to begin to craft something so fragile. So earthly.”

And we all marveled at her stories, and her wisdom. She breathed art, and Arita porcelain and spoke wonders of the ceramist who taught her everything she knew. Now here we all were attempting the very same craft that takes two years to master in Japan. Naively attempting to do it all in just two weeks.

I felt broken each morning.

Not wanting to get up. The silica had taken its toll on my back, hands, fingers and forearms.

“Not again.” I thought. But the beauty in the struggle was too wonderful. I had to beat it. I had to make something. I had to keep creating. Fighting to do at least something. Anything. My hands grew desperate. Only finding solace in her words…

“Art is a process not only a thing.”

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And thats the crux of it isn’t it? As artists in the Western world we are defined by the number of pieces we create. By a finished product.

Yet, here was something so pure, so true, so innocent setting me free.

“Art is a process not only a thing.”

There’s beauty in learning. There’s beauty in the struggle. Growth as artists only happens as you learn new things. Taking different snippets of the various arts there are and mixing them all together to become an entity,  an aura all your own.

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Yes, I was impatient. But I learned not only from the clay but from the many talented colleagues around me. Colleagues that taught me patiently different aspects of creating, so patiently as I was on the verge of tears.

We humbly made tea for one another, and fed one another.  Each afternoon we’d all take a break and listen to each others stories and our instructors oracles of Japan. Of the grey roof tops, the beauty of community, China on the Park and breakdowns at Narita airport.

We sipped our tea, immersed in the clay on our shoes. Growing more as artists-if I dare call myself one-and cheering one another on, even when our pieces were warping into other worldly things.

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My hands will not be the same after this class, my muscles, my creative process, my mind.

There’s an honesty, an immersion that happens when you all are in one same creative spirit.

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Go out and DO. Do something that you wouldn’t typically do. Because its only stagnant things that die. I may be far from pleased with my finished pieces, but this time it wasn’t about the outcome it was about the process.

 

All my love,

-Diana Processed with VSCO with hb1 preset

All Life is, is a good game of Chess

 

20161102095840015_0007Here are a couple of black and white film images that I took of my two good friends playing chess in the bosque. This was for our sequence project, the one rule was that our camera was to remain stagnant and in the same spot throughout the whole shoot, while telling a story.

Please enjoy.

And remember all life is, is a good game of chess.

-Diana

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In a Land Far Far Away

This past weekend I ventured off to the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair, and it was as whimsical as I imagined it. I also had to attend an event to take photos for my multimedia class that is why there’s captions on the photos. Anyhow, I honestly felt like I was in a different time and space, the setting at Los Ranchos de Las Golendrinas was perfect for this magical theme with creeks, meadows and trees all around. From fairies blowing bubbles, belly dancing, jousting and horses… it was truly something else.

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Jude Smith-VanWinkle, age 7, recieves a lollipop from his mother at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair Saturday afternoon. VanWinkle was dressed as an “owl knight.”
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Julia Gomez works on colcha embroidery Saturday afternoon at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair held at Las Golendrinas Museum.
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Julia Gomez embroiders a Spanish colonial style colcha Saturday afternoon at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair. Gomez says a colcha can take months to complete.
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Giotto, known as the “Pink Fairy,” plays alongside a duo of Renaissance style violinists. Giotto has been a part of the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair for 5 years.
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Sir Bronnen, from The Knights of Chaos, jousts Saturday afternon at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair.
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Theresa Falzone rides her horse Zina as part of her role as the “Guardian Fairy” at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair. Falzone has been apart of the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair for 10 years.
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Giotto also known as the “Pink Fairy” plays her violin as part of her role at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair.
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Skybar Schroeter, age 10, plays in a nearby creek Saturday afternoon at the Santa Fe Renaissance Fair. Schroeter was dressed as the “wind fairy.”

Pop-Up Dumpling House

“A common legend goes that dumplings were first invented in the era of the Three Kingdoms, around 225 AD. Zhuge Liang, a general and minister of Shu Han, dammed up a poison marsh on his southern campaign against the Nanman with dumplings instead of the heads that the Nanman used.” (Wikipedia)

~

We ventured to the Talin Market for their weekly Pop-Up dumpling House. The Pop-up house makes Chinese styled dumplings from scratch. A Chinese woman actually stuffs and folds the dumplings delicately using her fingertips. I watched her intently from the bar, as she picked up a piece of dough stuffed it looked at the recipe and folded it, repeating the process over and over occasionaly stopping to speak Chinese with the elder Chinese gentleman stirring the steaming pots. The silver pots full of delectible dumplings steamed before me, the dumplings swimming in boiling water rising and falling.

We sipped out Thai iced coffees enjoying the sharp fresh tanginess aftertaste, as we slurped our sweet and spicy and egg drop soups. Such bliss on a cloudy Saturday afternoon with my best friend. Enjoying the taste of a culture and the togetherness that only a good meal can bring.

xx

-Diana

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