Art in the Time of Corona

For me, being an artist has always been about my sensitivity. I came into this world hyper sensitive. I taste and smell things others don’t and can feel textures more acutely than others (at least as far as I can tell based off of some fairly limited tests). It really doesn’t matter if I feel more or less than others, but I definitely feel a lot. And this sensitivity isn’t just limited to my tactile senses. I have a tender soul and can feel the feelings of other people around me. There is profound grief in this time. So many people are sick and dying with no one by their sides. Others are grieving losses that are just too much to bear. Many more people are afraid that this virus will descend upon them. It’s terrifying to be a part of, and I can feel it all. I hope that my feeling is helping to lighten the load for others. I pray that if I shed the extra tears, another person will make it through this major grief. I pray the world is ending and we never go back to the all sickness we ignored before this.

I pray, I pray, I pray. All day, every day I’ve prayed for light in this darkness. For soothing where there is pain. I pray for those on the edges of society to get supported and brought into the fold. I pray for clean air and water. I pray for food on tables and soft beds to rest in. I pray.

I’ve been praying since late January, and while my prayers will never stop, I just today became available to add my ceramics into the mix. See, I haven’t touched clay since I finished my last holiday batch. Normally, I take January off and then jump back into the studio in February, but this year I just couldn’t. The prayers were too big and they needed all of my time and energy. I only signed up for one craft fair, fully knowing it would be cancelled by the time it came around (it was supposed to happen tomorrow in Philadelphia. Definitely cancelled.) and left my whole spring wide open. I watched my bank account in mild dismay as my small savings steadily shrank with no income on the horizon. For the first time since I first touched clay, there were no pots knocking at my door to be made. I felt so empty and all I could do was pray that I get filled up. Eventually, I realized that the whole world was being asked to stop everything and sit with ourselves. I’ve come at this time with as much dedication as I can (with only a few small breakdowns as I question all of my life choices…), and it’s finally come to fruition. I’m full up and ready to share my work with the world again.

As of today, I am now available to start making my prayers visible as pots. I’m available to make your prayers visible. I’m available for light hearts, heavy hearts, smiles, tears—all of it. I want to hear your stories from this time. I want to know what it’s like spending time with yourself, maybe for the first time on this scale. I want to hear your thoughts and fears and joys from this time. My hands are in the mud and they’re ready to start sharing all kinds of stories and prayers.

All my love,

Caitlin