Time on my hands – Covid 19 part 3

From Monday 26th April, the studio will be open to visitors again but only by appointment to begin with. I would like to take it slowly after a year of so little face to face interaction, can’t take too much excitement all at once. Please do contact me beforehand if you’d like to visit.

A few weeks ago I put off posting on Instagram as I found it hard to find the right tone to tune with how I was feeling. I thought I would do it in the following day or two when there was something more pertinent to comment on. That was a good few weeks ago and I’m still waiting. It’s not the subject that’s eluding me, but finding the voice that sounds like myself but the self that has lived through this last year.

Most of my social media story so far has been told through the medium of my work and its influences. If there was no news I could post an image of a pot or a beautiful view of Skye. Sharing these things felt neither too self indulgent nor too loud, as long as what I was saying felt genuine.

This year, because of very sore hands from carpel tunnel syndrome, there haven’t been so many pots to show. After the first few weeks of the first lockdown I was selling online from my website, a business lifeline this year, I ran out of suitable work to sell and post about. I didn’t want to keep posting the views I’ve been blessed with when so many are looking at four walls. I think I assumed we’d have conclusions by now, a grand vision of the new future, at least a bit of hindsight to make sense of it all. I assumed my work would be my path through this, each pot a new step in understanding – working hard through the pandemic with a shelf of work to document the time, something tangible to remember by. Instead I’ve made nothing, said nothing, done practically nothing, (been nowhere of course). My Covid ‘to-do’ list abandoned intact. Inaction and silence. Just for this moment being still.
Just for this moment, being.