. In my forty-something years, I had never known myself as an artistic person. I was more of a sitting-behind-the-desk girl; working with numbers and contracts and by-laws. But when the kids left home and the house got quiet, my mind got loud. My life, once busy with work-life juggles and home errands, got suddenly empty and inert.
One day, I watched some neurologist talking on a TV show about memory and Alzheimer. He said that hands-on skills are the last part of the memory that Alzheimer's wipes out of a patient’s brain. And It made me think of my own old age. I had always been afraid of losing my memory. To me, Alzeihemr’s would be like losing my identity and becoming nothing. And I thought to myself that I didn't want to become nothing; I wanted to stay what I am and who I am. That talk show made me wonder whether art and hand-crafting would help me, help my memory, and my identity last longer. I thought maybe art would give me an everlasting life.
I had always loved pottery. Ceramics were always my number one material whether shopping for dining ware or kitchen accessories. So, when I thought of learning an art, I immediately started looking for a pottery class. I tried a few different places and techniques. But it wasn’t easy to find the right match and I was feeling discouraged. Until one day, when I was walking by a craft store just around the bloc- I saw a pottery class ad on the store window, and a lady, around the same age as me, fixing up her pottery shelf in the store. I entered the store, and boom! My life changed. That pottery class turned the page for me and empowered me to start a big and beautiful chapter of my life; a chapter soothed by clay and the pottery wheel; a chapter to celebrate who I am and what I am; a chapter that I am now ready to share with you all.
In this chapter I will share how pottery brings me peace. It helps me get into my flow; being away from all the hustles; all the noise in the world. Pottery let my fingers do the magic; I set them free, in pottery, to touch the clay, to mould the clay, talk to the clay and release all the stress I might have piled up in my fists throughout the day. Pottery doesn’t hurt my wrist; instead kneading the clay helps me to work up my stress and let it go before a carpel tunnel flares up. Pottery brings me joy and I give back that joy to my ceramics.
Each and every ceramic has a unique story; some told and some untold. In Collage art store, I am hoping to find the time and the space to share my stories. Because stories help us to connect; they help us to leave the void and inspire one another. Stay tuned if you are into pottery or love storytelling! Collage Art store brings you both.