Author: Tom Stock Page 15 of 30

Whether you do art or appreciate looking at art, to really get into it you have to work at it. The impact of art may be immediate, and hanging with it will bring thoughts that are triggered by that art no matter what art form you choose.

If you are an aspiring artist, your unique, individual expression will start consciously, and slowly morph into the unconscious. It takes a long-term commitment and determination to “emerge” Emerge means that you’ve found your path and you are following your voice. As you do so, your voice will slowly change as you mature, perfect your skills, and try new approaches.

It is important to have a work place, a studio, with no interruptions where you can leave your stuff and come back to it. It is essential that you “inhabit” your studio even if you don’t feel creative. Your surroundings will convince you. You may start with doubt, but that will quickly change once you start.

Thomas Merton, a monk, says it best…”Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” As we work at our craft, the world shrinks as we fully inhabit our creativity. There is no better place to be. Once you mindset kicks in, your awareness changes and things start to happen. You are onto something, a theme emerges and you go with it. “happy accidents begin to occur” which you recognize and incorporate.

Don’t rush, pause, stand back, make midcourse corrections. There’s nothing wrong with walking away with an unfinished piece. Something tells you to stop and refuel. I am a collage artist and when I’m stuck, I leave the project and let it sit. It calls me back when I’m ready to proceed. When I have an idea, I walk about my daily business brainstorming that idea until I HAVE to return to my studio and follow the idea. Don’t be afraid to be impulsive and don’t call yourself an artist because saying that holds you back. Better to say “I’m not an artist yet, I’m still in the starting gate.”

Nancy bought an Oster bread maker at a yard sale for $3.00. She downloaded a 50 page instruction booklet so we can make our own bread. Translate we to me.

The machine gathered dust for more than 2 years. “When are you going to make bread? That was my prompt to try the automatic break maker and read the instructions first. “Today” I responded. This should be easy. Load the ingredients and press start.

The machine was brand spanking new.  I read ten pages of the instructions. The rest of it were recipes. I picked the first recipe on the list – white bread. If I followed the instructions, all I had to do to make bread was to press one red button and wait 3 and ½ hours.

I found a recipe for white bread.I needed yeast and powdered milk which I didn’t have. I went shopping. After not finding powdered milk at three super markets, I finally found powdered goats milk. Close enough. So far I’ve spent an hour and no bread yet. I read the instructions again after assembling all the ingredients. The recipe called for Gold Metal (better for machine bread) flour. We only had King Arthur flour.  I drove back to the super market to visit the baking isle. The baking isle had four brands of flour. Finally I found Heckers unbleached flour “perfect for bread machines because of its higher gluten” content. I liked Heckers for two other reasons…the picture on the front is of a little boy with a huge knife carving a huge loaf of bread. the fact that their company started way back in 1853 suggesting to me that this was the flour the bread machine.  Now it was bread making time. My mouth started to water just looking at the little boy with the huge knife.

There were a few warnings in the instruction book. Don’t let the yeast get wet. All ingredients must be measured accurately.  The ingredients called for water first followed by the flower, sugar, salt, goats milk, soft butter, and finally yeast on top as far away from the water as possible. I measured everything very carefully. So far I’d vested in 2 hours time and 20 dollars and I had to made an expensive loaf of bread.

I closed the top and pressed start. There is a small window on top. I looked in with a small flashlight and the mixture turned into a white wad slowly turning. The kneading process was taking place. The machine does everything. I’ve measured and loaded and now the wait begins 3 1/3hours.

The house slowly smelled like a bakery. I checked after two hours, then three hours, then hung out in the kitchen waiting for the “ding” sound the machine made. By this time, the machine and I had become friends.

The busied myself in the kitchen, washing dishes, putting away the left over ingredients, arranging things in the refrigerator. Another peek…ten seconds to go. The countdown, a drum roll. Ding! Ah, now let’s see my very first loaf of bread with the help of technology. I raised the lid and saw a loaf of bread. I lifted the pan and slid it out onto the counter. It had a nice brown crust, spongy interior, and smelled like BREAD! The loaf looked like a block a big square block, not like a store bought loaf of Wonder bread.

I let the bread cool, then cut two slices that were equal to a slice and a half of a regular   bread slice. I made two open faced sandwiches with turkey, cheese, mayo, and lettuce.

That loaf of bread cost $20 and took two hours of my time and my friend, the automatic bread maker 3 ½ hours. I now have a new respect for supermarket bread. While passing pushing my shopping cart, I grab a loaf and keep going. Total time? One second. Total cost? $3.50.  But the taste, the crust, a freshness… this is far superior bread. I approached the bread machine, patted it and said “Thank you.”

An old girlfriend had only one bowl in her tiny apartment. She ate her only meal from that bowl. She is a yoga teacher, thin, and has the appetite of a bird. I thought about her bowl as a symbol of simplicity and hunger. Children holding a bowl with hunger written on their faces stopped me cold once too often. I’m going to start using only a bowl for nourishment. I get edgy when seated at a fancy dinner party where the place setting is fifteen pieces. Where’s my bowl?

I remembered her as I prepared a small salad in a medium-sized bowl. I thought…I am living large. My bowl is always full. I will never go hungry. In fact, I think about food way too much. I need to live more like a bowl than a lavish dinner setting.

A bowl could represent the entire Universe. Although no one knows what the shape of the Universe is, a bowl is just as good as any. The Universe holds itself together within its rim. A full bowl represents a step on the food chain. I make Potato leek soup from the produce at Homecoming Farm, where my wife and I have a work/share in a community of supporters. Whether my bowl is empty or full, it holds energy which is passed on. I am, along with my bowl, part of an interconnected web of life. When I volunteered at a soup kitchen, I watched the guests faces as a volunteer ladled soup into their bowl. I don’t have that look on my face when I accept a bowl of soup. My circumstances are different.

I had a friend named Linda who was a ceramicist. We became friends. When she visited my house, she brought me four soup bowls that she made. That was fifteen years ago. Only one of those bowls survives. Every time I use that bowl, I remember Linda. Cupping that bowl, I hold the world, indeed, I hold the Universe. As I eat the food in my bowl, I share that same process with millions of others who may only use their bowl a few times a week. My bowl reminds me to restrain myself.   I can do with less and get along just as well.