Preview of things to come

Cold Springs Studio's new photography page.

Over the past few months as my recovery has progressed, I have had more than ample time for navel gazing. (funny thing: I currently have what looks like three navels... thanks to some of the holes that were drilled into my abdomen to remove the sutures a month ago.)

Upon reflection here is what I have found:

• Even if my recovery continues with no major setbacks, I will never regain the abdominal strength I used to have.
• Lifting things like boxes of clay or kiln shelves can cause herniation at the ostomy site.
• Herniation looks to be the bugbear under the bed for ostomates.
• The only tried-and-true solution to avoid herniation looks to be having a reversal surgery.
• That means at least two more major surgeries.

Given this scenario, my assumption that I can simply slide back into my life as a potter is simply erroneous. Sure, I can make pots, and in fact, I am trying to make pots everyday. But what used to be my warm-up time is now my total time in the mud for the day. Stamina apparently takes a long time to come back.

I have relied on my self-sufficiency, like all potters, for most of my life. My life has been built around the premise that brute force could surmount adversity. That simply isn't an option at this point. I can't just wrangle kiln shelves into the bottom of my kiln without injuring my ostomy site, never mind the potential for actually blowing a hernia through there as well. I can't lift glaze buckets the way I used to. Even simple things like moving a board full of pots and batts is out of the question. Too much abdominal muscle engagement.

So what to do ? :

• I may consider trying to bring on another apprentice when Hannah heads down to NC in a few months. Someone with the proverbial strong back/weak mind. I just have seen so little interest or discipline in this area. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
• Renovate/redo the studio so heavy things don't have to be moved for daily work.
• Find other aspects of my interests to pursue.

The last one there is the rub.

I have always had many interests that would qualify more as a profession and less as a hobby. I don't really know how to do the hobby thing. If I am interested in something, I dive in with both feet. In the past decade, this has been a rediscovery of my love for photography. After seeing the dearth of good photographers in the central NY area, I am encouraged. Maybe there's room for another aspiring photog. Then again, that was my feeling about setting up a pottery studio. If I have learned nothing else in the last decade, if you don't make work that fits within the stylistic needs/wants of your local clientèle, then you are forced to either ship work out or search high and low for ways to draw new customers in from far away. Neither is simple.

Which leaves me with massive questions about pursuing photography as a potentiality. Much in the same way that most of what I learned in grad school was learned AFTER leaving. There was so much that couldn't be taught in the classroom. That makes me wonder how do I begin the dive into photography so I don't make all the same mistakes and gaffes I made establishing my pottery studio? Ideas? Suggestions?

If anyone wants to check out my beginner's attempt at setting out my shingle, so to speak... check out our new website: Cold Springs Studio Photograhy

Ideas, critiques, etc., are always appreciated.

Three generations of Sollas

Three months ago, I woke up from a month-long chemically induced coma. During the time I was out, my mother came up from Florida twice. I can't imagine being in her shoes... the parent watching their offspring tied to a gurney so as to not pull out all the various tubes and hoses and wires keeping me alive.

My mother spent Christmas afternoon and evening in a panic, waiting for my sister to fly in from England. Only problem was that she was held up in Detroit because of the Holiday Terrorist. Apparently the plane that arrived just before hers made it so that they had to wait on the tarmac for over three hours. Luckily, they eventually released the planes and passengers and Mag made her way to Florida.

As sort of a post-Christmas gift surprise, my mom and sister came up to visit before New Year's. I don't think there has ever been a time when my house has ever held three generations of Solla women. Listening to Aurora cackling like a turkey, totally bowled over laughing, I realized that she, my mother and my sister all have the same laugh. And here it was; all this laughter in my house.

My mother and sister hadn't seen me walk out of the hospital. They hadn't been there when I made any of my "firsts" in PT. More than anything else, they just wanted to see that I was alive, intact and functional. Nevermind that I had already told them this via phone, email and through the blog. They needed to see it.

I am starting to understand now.

Today, I can say with a smile of pride (as though I had something to do with it... not really)...
that all of the horrendous holes that the surgeon drilled into me before Christmas are finally HEALED! I have no more holes in my abdomen!!! Nancy and I celebrated last night by NOT doing a wound change before bedtime. This means so much to me. Most of all, it means I can have my normal routine again. Showering first thing in the morning has always been my way of waking up... since I was a pre-teen. Now I can not only do that, I can manage the post-wound care needs on my own. And best of all... it doesn't hurt.

So what does all of this mean? It means I can begin to work out harder at the gym at PT. It means I can stretch out my walks farther each day. It means that when the winter passes I can start getting out on my bike again. It means I lived.

Back in the Studio

I feel like I should hang a Welcome Home sign across the studio. I have been wandering in and out of the studio for two months now, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Today I took five pounds of clay, measured out my lumps of mud for making mugs, and made pots. Never before, in the twenty one years I have been making pots, have I ever missed more than a few weeks of making pots. This time it was a little longer. Four months, almost to the day. Tons of muscle atrophy. Monstrous amounts of physical therapy. And the end result today was that I was able to throw my footed mugs again.

Sure, it hurt. Yep, it was wicked uncomfortable to have to work around this ostomy... BUT I could throw again!

Ask a hundred potters the hardest thing about being a potter, they'll all say being away from the clay. Mud is such an addictive material. I have been very patient and tried hard not to push too hard, but every day the studio has seemed less and less like my home. Today I felt welcomed home.

And with that, I welcome back all of our longtime patrons and friends. We are planning something VERY fun for the Spring. Get ready for some new fun pots! I still have a ways to go, but things are going to be fun!

Small Successes

Yesterday was my first visit to Dr.Wang (our local traditional Chinese herbal medicine and acupuncture practitioner) since May. When I last saw her, I was frustrated at my inability to lose weight... acupuncture can be very helpful in restoring/invigorating metabolism.

When Dr. Wang and I locked eyes yesterday she took a double-take and then looked like she might cry. My heart sank, knowing that she had no idea what I had been through. For the better part of twenty minutes we talked about the ordeal. Nancy had to do most of the talking because I totally lost it. I find it incredibly difficult to talk about what was done to me in order to keep me alive.

I had been worried about going to acupuncture because usually when she works on me, I am on my side and she fills my lower back and shoulders with needles. Yesterday though she kept me laying on my back. Apparently my "life force" was severely depleted by the month and a half long sedation. Yeah... I would have to agree. I have no stamina, no strength, and everything hurts all the time.

During acupuncture though, my body floated. No pain, no sensation. I wish sleep brought such relief. I am sleeping like shit. I might get 3 hours uninterrupted. Then I either am in too much pain to fall asleep or I have to go to the bathroom, or I simply cant get comfortable. Any one position too long just aches.

Sorry to bitch and moan.

The good news is that our friends Carol and Gordon loaned us their battleship of a recliner... this MONSTER Barcalounger. Finally I was able to get comfortable downstairs! This means we can get rid of the loaner from the rental place in town.
And it means I can nap without having to climb stairs to our bedroom.

Nice.