A Love Letter

My final days in the studio at Millbrook.

Over the past two years I have struggled tremendously with my art, my mental health, and desire to fight through pain. The pandemic ripped my senior year in high school short, resulting in so much unfinished work and lost dreams. I wish I could say that I have been able to overcome this truncation of my art and continued to work, but in reality I have barely touched a wheel since I left school in spring of 2020. While I was able to go back to Millbrook and fire my final pieces, there was so much unfinished and unrealized work that I still feel the loss of it today. So, in an effort to stop lamenting the past and the forces outside of my control, I want to write this journal as a sort of love letter to my beginning as a ceramic artist, and my rekindling of it.

I cannot begin this piece without expressing my gratitude and love for my teacher, Shannon Harris. Shannon singlehandedly brought me into the studio and woke up my creative spirit through her compassion, kindness, and willingness to take risks. She challenged me at every turn, asking me to continue my growth as a person and as an artist with each project she introduced. Whether the project was plates as canvas, or creating handles, or simply learning how to let go and find my center, Shannon gave me a gift that I will never forget. Her willingness to push me, to ask me to look deeper into myself led to me finding a wealth of creativity and passion for this medium. She never doubted me, never let me give up on myself, and allowed me to find refuge in her studio. Millbrook was not easy for me - boarding schools very rarely make it easy - as they are rigorous, demanding, and sometimes soul crushing in their pursuit of excellence. Yet, every time I found myself downtrodden, missing home, or struggling with my depression, she gave me a space to express my pain in kindness and beauty. Her work is still something I aspire toward, her care and commitment to her craft showed me that even when we are feeling lost and stuck in a rut, art is by our sides as an outlet and a reminder of the beauty to be found in the world. She became one of my greatest mentors and friends, and this is a relationship I will cherish for the rest of my life. I would not be, and cannot imagine who I might be, without her.

So, it is with this in mind that I sit down and pen this journal - the first journal I have added in nearly two years. My passion for ceramic art, for wheel thrown art, has taken a beating. I think it is fair to say that the pandemic threw a wrench in everyone’s plans. For me, it meant not finding closure at the place that I discovered myself. Millbrook taught me how to lead, it taught me that I am worth more than I give myself credit for. I learned that my world cannot be centered around myself, cannot be consumed by my depression and anxiety. It taught me the value of alone time, as I spent more nights in the studio creating than I did studying (oops). The moments I spent alone in the studio, wrapped up in my work gave me clarity, centered me, and reminded me that I am working toward something that will fulfill me. Empathy, kindness, a knowing of those around me and learning from their stories were all intrinsic to this community, and while it certainly had its faults, I will forever be grateful for the chance to grow in such a place. When I came to Millbrook, I was desperately fleeing a home of domestic violence, substance abuse, and trauma. It’s almost a miracle that I managed to even get in, considering I was truant from school my seventh and eighth grade years. When I interviewed, I spent two hours with Jon Downs (then head of admissions and now current headmaster), telling him every bit of myself that I could. By his expert judge of character and compassion, he saw in me something that I still struggle with today - he saw my potential. From there I began the long walk of learning how to learn, learning how to be a student, how to be an educator, how to be a listener. I was given student leadership my junior year and senior year, where I learned that helping others allows me to feel connected to myself. I learned that I am an artist, that I am woman, that I am someone with potential to make waves in this world if I give myself the chance to.

When the pandemic hit, I found myself back in my old home with my family who had changed, but not nearly as much as I had. I struggled to understand my reality, my family and the shared pain we all had. These two years of pandemic life have muddied the waters for me, I do not feel a sense of purpose and drive like I did when I was at school. College is a struggle for me, studying and being engaged takes all my effort now. My depression often feels like it has a choke hold on me and creative spirit feels like it was smashed. I find myself clawing to hold onto who I was, the feeling of knowing my own skin and my own fire.

This is why I write this journal, in an effort to remember who I am, what I can do, and what my potential can create. I refuse to give up my spirit to my mental illness, I refuse to stay down and let it trample me. While I am not the girl that I was two years ago, I still feel her in me. Growth is painful, nothing worth doing in life is easy. I have a gift, one that I never even considered I would have when I was younger. I can translate the beauty of the natural world into pieces that will last a thousand years, and I cannot let it fade to the background any longer. While this is a love letter to Shannon, Millbrook, and my art, it is also a love letter to myself. I am still learning (and probably will be learning this lesson forever) on how to love myself. When I find that I feel less than, when I feel unworthy and I am unkind to myself, I simply need to look at this site to remember my potential. The girl that left Millbrook for Spring Break of 2020 may be gone so to speak, but her potential and power are not. My world is greater than my mentality, my world lies in my hands and their ability to mould wet dirt into something fantastic. I simply need to begin again.

And my beginning starts now.

Learning to love who I am now starts with remembering my potential.

Sangria

The best way to explore who you are, who you really are deep down in your soul, is by trial and error. There is no one way to grow.

This glaze was a happy surprise that has yielded results far beyond any hope I had for it. I was not entirely sure that I wanted to glaze some of my work in this wacky pink color that I found in the studio, but feeling adventurous I decided I had nothing to lose. I glazed two pieces with it, two bowls that fit into each other like Russian nesting dolls, that were experiments of a form that I was decidedly not crazy about. They became the victims of my sangria glaze test.

I was shocked when they left the kiln, just like I had been with my Chun Sea foam creation. The glaze was a mix of pinks with hues of purple and some cases of icy blues blended into an amazing glassy surface. The bowls that I was not in love with quickly became the perfect canvas for this wonderful glaze.

The Story of Chun Sea Foam

It is hard to understand the complexity I see in my glazes if you have never made one before.

I began making glazes in my junior year of high school. I never imagined that this half-assed trial and error experiment would turn into one of my greatest passions. It started with a series of glaze recipes that I found on glazy.org and some half-hearted interest in the pictures posted there. I selected five glazes, made them, dipped test tiles, and stuck them on the firing shelf. I remember the feeling that bloomed in my chest as my teacher took them from the kiln and gave them to me. The tiles were still warm, the residual heat lingering from the intense firing it had just undergone and finished. I was amazed at the results. There was this intense curiosity that shuffled forth from a place in my mind that I had never really realized was there.

It was then, with the still-warm test tile, that I went back to my seat and began the process of falling in love. I was so intensely curious and slightly confused at how I was able to make something as beautiful as the test tiles I had around me. I think this might be why I dove so deeply into my ceramic work. I felt like if I could create a glaze this stunning, then I must be able to make clay do the same thing.

So, as I began to create more pieces and grow as an artist, I began trying every different combination of glazes that I could think of. I started to make my own glazes, rather than just pull them off websites or from books. This is when I stumbled across the glaze that has changed my work as an artist. Chun Sea Foam.

The glaze itself had a lot of variation, with different parts flashing deep green, to parts taking on a lovely shade of tan unusual in troy porcelain. I started to glaze everything I had with this color. Soon my life was a series of seafoam greens found on pots, bowls, and cups. I started to improve my clay work in order to accommodate this new found love and all her beauty. One day, I mixed Chun Sea Foam with the cone 6 clear that my studio makes, and I realized there was more to fall in love with.

I felt like I just opened the door to a world filled with blues and greens more beautiful than I had ever imagined. The greatest joy came barreling at me full speed whenever I looked at this bowl. I was astounded, dumbfounded, blow to pieces, every other way to say completely shattered with what I created. Now, I can say definitively that almost every piece I made had this glaze on it for the remaining parts of the year. I even made wedding vases for my advisor with this color on them.

Starting the Process

fall into the process of becoming the very best version of yourself like you fall into the arms of a long lost friend

Starting the process of creating is sometimes very difficult. This website is the place where my ideas, my inspirations, and my work come into confluence with one another. All images are taken by myself or the amazing faculty at Millbrook School, of either my surroundings or my work. With high hopes for how this endeavor will play out, I start out with this first journal entry.

9.29.19