Ann Metlay Artist and Writer
  • Home
  • About
    • Artist Statement
    • Calendar
  • My Journal
  • Past Works
    • ASSEMBLAGES
    • Mindfulness Vessels
  • Books
    • Ann, the Writer
  • Contact
  • Home
  • About
    • Artist Statement
    • Calendar
  • My Journal
  • Past Works
    • ASSEMBLAGES
    • Mindfulness Vessels
  • Books
    • Ann, the Writer
  • Contact

my journal

The Genesis of Ann Metlay Art

9/19/2019

0 Comments

 

I must have been asleep during that conversation with my Guide. I do not remember exactly when it occurred. But, as I move forward with this life, snippets of it come back to me. 

Maybe it happened when I suddenly had to retire. I did the math. I knew I could not remain in the DC area, so, virtually sight unseen, I chose to move to the Verde Valley where I knew no one. 

Or, maybe I spoke to my Guide  several years later when I was on oxygen 24-7, and the bulky oxygen tank made it impossible to walk my dogs. I closed myself in my house then, vowing only to come out when I had a way to go about without hauling the ten pound tank with me. I sat inside my house for five months, making tissue paper collages. Then one day I lost 100 pounds and realized I did not need supplemental oxygen. My O2 levels have remained high ever since. Maybe that was when I bargained for this life change.

Or maybe I had the conversation without any dramatic fanfare. Maybe I simply put one foot in front of the other. Did not look back. Trusted something was going to happen. And it did.

For my entire life I have been a writer. I breathed words, taught them to others, even wrote a book,. Then a day came when words did not fully express my internal emotions and my vision. First I found papier mache. I learned how to connect tree branches using it. I was hooked. I had to represent my thoughts in three-dimensional fashion.

Forty years ago I discovered clay in a sculpture class in adult ed in Berkeley. I knew at that moment, that although I left my new-found passion for sculpting as I moved eastward, I would reconnect with clay someday. I moved around the country, from Berkeley to Indiana, on to Boston, then to the DC area. And from there I moved here to the Verde Valley. With each move I asked myself, “Is this the place where I will find clay, a kiln?”

Late one summer I was up in Jerome in my studio, making assemblages with papier mache and desert wood. I passed a fellow artist. He handed me a flyer for the newly opening Reitz Ranch for Ceramic Arts. I drove out there immediately.

As I drove down the dirt road along the Verde River, I knew I was on the right road for my dreams of clay.  I met Sheryl the new owner of the Reitz Ranch, took a tour, and signed up on the spot, becoming the first member of the ranch.

This conversation I had with my Guide, I know it happened before I found Reitz Ranch. As I drove back down the road from the ranch, I realized I had yielded to passions. My life from now on would be totally immersed in ceramic sculpture. I have now found the sacrifices I would make for this passion. I have relinquished the joy of close family connections. I have watched one close friend after another move on, whether by crossing over, or becoming engaged, or moving away to be closer to family because of illness. I have settled into a sort of loneliness.

But, at the same time, I have found my release by sinking my hands into clay, by molding it, becoming totally immersed in each piece I create. Part of the time I work the clay, my mind is not even connected to what my hands are doing. I travel to another dimension.

It has been two years since I drove down that dirt road to the ranch. I have begun to appreciate the eccentricities of clay; the way it slumps when it is not yet dry enough to stand tall on its own, the way it needs direction for sharp corners; the way it can look lumpy and formless if I do not define its shape with authority when it is wet; the way glazes seem to have a mind of their own, come out muddy and brown when I do not meet their seemingly persnickety needs. The underlying lesson I have learned, I think, is not to yield to shortcuts, not to plow through my work in a careless fashion.

Although, at this time, I do not have the network of close friends I have thrived with in the past, I am finding my way into a wonderful community of artists. Through being involved in Made in Clarkdale, through SVAC Open Studios, through the OTC Muse Gallery, I now have begun to feel at home with a group of people with whom I never believed I shared common experience. Yes. Much of this community began this way of life 50 or 60 years before I did. But I had this conversation with my Guide, which I do not fully remember. I signed on to this new way of life. I cannot go back now!
​
Now, I look forward to opening my new incarnation of a gallery, Ann Metlay Art. This gallery will display the work of a fine artist, an artist who is confident in her artistic talents. Her art stands tall, alone; nothing attached to it. I no longer doubt my artistic voice. This art is my affirmation, my expression of the beauty I find around me.

Picture
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Ann Metlay

    "With all the beauty surrounding me here above the Verde Valley, how could I not create more beauty?"

    Archives

    October 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016

    Categories

    All
    1968
    Abandonment
    Acceptance
    A College Memory
    Adrift Wood And Stone Assemblages
    Affirming Life
    After Parkland
    All About The Moon
    Amazon Books
    Amber's Birds
    A Moving Journal
    An Age Old Controversy
    Antidote For A One-Day Winter
    April Sunrise
    Arizona Monsoons
    A Tribute To Clark Memorial Library
    Autism
    AZ
    Beauty
    Beginning Of Fall
    Berkeley Bourgeois Meets Bronco Busting Bar-Fighter
    Blessing Of The Bug
    Blessings
    Blowing Into Spring
    Body Image
    Book Reviews
    Breeze Song
    Butterfly Space
    Carrot Beet Soup With Dill
    Cats
    Celebrate
    Children
    Chilled Spinach Soup
    Chilled Tropical Fruit Soup
    Clarkdale
    Coming Into Health
    Community Of Artists
    Cottonwood
    Cottonwood Studio
    Cottonwood Trees
    Cottonwood Village
    Cottonwood Waltz
    Devotion
    Dodi Checks In
    Doxies
    Dragon (A Story From The Classroom)
    Enchanted Wands
    Evolution Of Art
    Faith
    Father's Time
    Featured Artist
    Finding The Promised Land
    Forming Community
    For The Love Of Cats
    Fresh Tomato Soup
    From Adrift
    Full Moon
    Genesis 1
    Grand Opening
    Gratitude List
    Hank Erwin
    Hanukah 2017
    Hanukkah 2018
    Happy Birthday
    Headlines
    Healing Wolf
    Helen
    High Holidays
    Holiday Blessings
    Holidays
    Homing Wands
    How I Moved To The Verde Valley Of Arizona
    How To Eat Matzoh
    How To Mark A Life Milestone
    I Live In Gratitude
    Immigrants
    In Honor Of Teaching
    Inspired By Louise Nevelson
    January 2017 First Friday Artwalk
    John F. Kennedy
    Jr.
    Judaism
    Judie Dies
    June 5
    Kindle
    Kittens
    Kitten Time
    Late Dinner
    Learning To Entertain
    Leaving Jerome
    Lech Lecha
    Let's Go Camping
    Light Food
    Lilacs
    Made In Clarkdale
    Making Choices
    Martin Luther King
    May
    Medication
    Meet Don Jones
    Memoir
    Memories For The Holidays
    Menus
    Mindfulness Vessels
    Modeling
    Mousie
    Moving Beyond Words
    Moving Down The Hill
    My Artistic Process
    My Latest Book
    My Tree
    New Artist Syndrome
    New Gallery
    New Studio
    Nightmares
    No
    On The 342nd Birthday Of This Country
    Open Studio
    Open Studios
    Palo Verde Trees
    Parents
    Patriot's Day
    Peace Corp.
    Pets
    Photo Shoot
    Poem
    Poems
    Poetry
    Political
    Potato Leek Soup
    Prayer
    Prayer Shawl
    Quality Of Life
    Ranch
    Rebirth
    Rebuttal
    Recipes
    Red Flag Warning
    Rehoming Ceramic Pieces
    Reitz Ranch
    Remembering Departed Friends
    Remembering Junipurr
    Reunion Thwarted
    Review Of 2018
    Ribbons
    Scenes From Day 2 Of Open Studios
    Season
    Sedona
    Self Assurance
    Self Doubts
    Shadow Of Athena
    Side Effects
    Soup
    Storms
    Studio Cats
    Summer
    Summer Soup
    Sunday Soiree
    Sunday Sunset Soirees
    Sycamore Canyon
    Synagogue
    Teaching
    Thanksgiving
    Thanksgiving Grace
    The Man Who Blew In Off The Desert
    The Power Of Soups For Cold Weather
    The Woodman Cometh
    The Year To Come
    Toe Rings
    Torah
    To Restore Our Dreams
    To Restore Their Dreams
    Trauma
    Travel
    Tree Of Life
    Tree Parts In Desert Wood Assemblages
    Trump
    Verde Valley
    Waiting For The Monsoons
    Watermelon Dessert Soup
    Watermelon Gazpacho
    What Is Word Artistry?
    Wordless Poetry
    Zorb

    RSS Feed