My Name is Mudsy

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.