JILL RUBY-WAHBA, MA, LMFT, ATR-BC
I never really know what I am going to do when I go to start a piece, or when I start a session with a client. I usually start with a check in, open to what they the pace and intensity as present. I adjust needed, being sensitive to what is happening in the room (or on screen). Similarly, my art making process, begins by noticing what’s around me, and intuitively adding, layering over, integrating, or taking away elements as a piece develops. Sometimes, I put a piece aside and revisit it after a while, or out of the blue, an idea will come, and I know what to do next. When it feels like I have nothing to lose, it gives me the freedom to consider what else is possible.
The past 19 months of living amidst Coronavirus has felt similar to the process of creating a work of art, too. I kind of had an idea of what to expect from day to day, but there were no guarantees, and the nature of everything would inevitably change. It felt scary and risky learning as time moved on, not knowing if things would turn out ok, or if the people I care about would remain healthy and safe. I had to identify what was available to me, then improvise and “make-due” with what I had on hand, trust that it will work out, hope for the best, and keep plugging away. I kept looking for perverse opportunities to help instill hope and find meaning amidst so much fear, anger, loss and uncertainty. I had faith that eventually I would I find peace and clarity. Things are still not totally clear, but I am counting my blessings, and grateful to be here imagining what will come next.
Lantern, Rescued.
(Glazed Stoneware, 4.25” x 6.5”)
This little ceramic lantern...accidentally squashed, mushed, then repaired, refined. Resilient.
I wasn’t thinking about how light represented hope and clarity (and so much more), or how noticing glimmers of light(ness) was what got me through the worst days of the COVID 19 Pandemic. When the clay lantern I had just completed dropped, it was just one more thing that didn’t go as planned this year...but it would be ok. It looked so funky, misshapen, had a too many holes... I felt compelled to find a way to save it. I couldn’t just give up. I had to see what I could do. I played with it until each new fold and opening flowed into the next. I took time to smooth and shape the wrinkles so they became more balanced and graceful. The process was cathartic. I cradled the transformed piece in my hands, celebrating the accident that led to the creation of this hole- filled vessel that can share the light it contains within.