As I am researching the development of kiln technology in China, one interesting fact I found was the linkage between the yellow loess that lies in a thick blanket over China and the development of high-fired ceramics thousands of years prior to other parts of the world.¹ The loess in turn was blown in from the Tibetan plateau and the Gobi desert. As I was discussing this with my professor, he mentioned other examples of dust being blown from one part of the earth to another and thus impacting the ecosystems, and thus in turn impacting the cultures that developed there.
As I thought of this, I saw in my mind’s eye dust blowing all over the earth directed by the winds, and I thought of the Western conception of inspiration as breath, and considered both the Hebrew and Greek conceptions of “spirit” which are associated with both breath and wind. It seemed an amazing idea that the earth’s winds blow dust that result in amazing innovation in a culture, and in our own culture the idea of wind is associated with both inspiration and our human spirit, as well as the divine Spirit.
2 The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit [wind] of God was moving over the surface of the waters.
¹Finlay, Robert. “The Pilgrim Art: The Culture of Porcelain in World History,” Journal of World History, Vol. 9, No. 2 (Fall, 1998), pp. 141-187
Around 12 years ago when I had finally realized the dream of having a pottery studio in my house, and was toying with the idea about going back to school to study fine art, I suddenly was interrupted by clear direction that I should move to China. While I knew that China was a genesis point of much in ceramic art history, the opportunity that had opened up to me was not related to that facet of China or that facet of my own life. I surrendered and did not look back.
This fall, I did end up going back to school finally, but my graduate studies are in East Asian Studies, focusing on China. I considered taking art history classes in my program, but there were none that matched my interest. So, I have been studying a wide variety of cross disciplinary subjects from modern Chinese literature to Chinese domestic politics to anthropology. One of the classes was in environmental anthropology. I took the class because my work in China has been in the non-profit sector, and thus I’m interested in environmental issues in China. However, the class does not just examine issues, but also how ideas and innovation come from how cultures interact with their environment. It turned out my professor was interested in knowing more about how dragon kilns came to be conceived in southern China, but said he knew almost nothing about ceramics. I told him I did to which he replied that I should make that my research project then. So, I have.
So, as I do this research I find myself meditating on our dust-like nature which I have written about elsewhere. And sort of amazed that this lifelong love of mine keeps coming back around full circle, just like clay on the potter’s wheel.
I have been thinking about the Biblical account of creation. It says that man was formed out of the “dust of the earth” and life was breathed into him. As a potter this story holds powerful imagery for me, as I alluded to in my first post on this blog.
Whether one is religious or not, this is kind of an intriguing idea. I seem to remember from college biology 101 that our bodies are mostly made up of carbon and water. I’m no geologist, but might we think of carbon as “dust of the earth”, and if we mix that with water might we think of the mixture as mud? And if we breathe life into this mixture might not we consider it art? Certainly that’s the process I go through to create a piece of ceramic art such as my raku pot. What turns it from a piece of mud into muddart is the breath of life that I “breathe” into it. Interestingly, the English word “inspiration” comes from Latin meaning “to blow into”.
So when I speak of Muddart, there are three aspects of it: (1) the piece of art (some might say “piece of work”) that is myself, (2) the art that I, as muddart myself, create, and (3) my appreciation of you other “pieces of work” out there. I am the muddart creating muddart. And if you can receive it, so are all of you!
When I was a baby, my dad wanted to nickname me Mugsy, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t want a daughter growing up being called Mugsy. So I was preserved from that fate in my formative school years. However, my brother thought it was hilarious. He tormented me with the name, and insisted that all his children would call me Aunt Mugsy.
When the idea for this blog began to be shaped in my brain, and I began to mull over what name to post under, the idea of mud really appealed to me. Why mud? Well, several reasons. First, I love ceramic art. From the time I was a teenager – when I took my first ceramics class – till now la-da-da years later the place where I find the center of my being is in my studio. However, this blog, I hope, will not just be about ceramic art, but about art-making in general – including writing, poetry, music, the creative process, dancing, drawing, singing. Mud appeals to me on that level too, because mud is not just the material I work with, it’s also me. Maybe that’s not a very flattering image to think about, but only if you don’t like mud. I do. What are we anyway but carbon and water and various other minerals and elements all mixed together? What’s that? Mud. I like the thought of the first man and woman being formed from the mud of the ground, and then the mud gets a big breath of life, and wow that art starts moving, breathing and talking. So the mud is both the art and the artist.
Thus as all this pondering went through my brain, and I considered how to sign my posts, suddenly my babyhood nickname came to me, but with a twist — so… meet Mudsy.