Object Lust

Yesterday, the ceramics studio was deserted. It was lovely being there all alone, making things and really geeking out. I've been into making these tiny bowls, partially because I love the size of them in my hands, and partially because I'm not very good yet. I made a couple bowls for my god-daughter and niece, who just turned one. It was funny because both their parents remarked that they were obsessed with touching them. I think there's something really intrinsic there that we forget about as we grow and words push the more intuative senses aside. Seeing through touching.

It's taken me a while to come to understand that I love the object-ness of things. I lust over the materials. In fashion, I nerd out about the fabric, the shape, the fit, more than the trend. In ceramics, I want to make things that have a direct relationship to the way they feel in my hand not just the way they look. I don't know if everyone experiences this.  Perhaps this is what separates those people who identify as craftspeople (like me) and those who identify as artists. I don't know.

Art that resonates to me does so because it feels organic and somehow connected to physicality. It's hard to describe exactly, I don't know if there's a word for it. The first time I saw Louis Bourgeois' work I literally cried because the forms and materials spoke to me so strongly (they even smelled!). On Friday at the open studios, I found an artist called Anna Miller, who's work I just wanted to lick it was so organic and visceral.

I'm making these little ball objects in studio. I love these little creatures that have sprung from nowhere. They fit in my hand, and have a weight to them that satisfied me deeply. I have object lust for them.