Alleman Studios- Tree of Life- Roots of the Spirit

The organic vessel form begins with a pancake shaped piece of clay. From this “pancake”, I carefully add, one row at a time, narrow strips of clay to build the form. In this case, I create the entire base as a nearly perfect circular form; bringing to the table my life habit of attempting “perfection” and longing to feel the power of the never ending circle- unity, strength, and promise. Immediately above this circular base I slightly narrow the vessel – just short of choking it.

I walk away, allowing the clay time to rest and firm up a bit. When I return, I fear I have indeed choked her. Immediately, I work to open her as wide as I can …row by row of clay, fingers pressing evenly, rhythmically around and around…smoothing her belly, checking her moisture as I work. The passage to open her as wide as I can provides the canvas for the trunks of her trees. She is wide open, wet, weak, and easily influenced in this raw and vulnerable state. She must be gently and carefully tucked in for the night. We rest.

When I return, I discover I have severely misjudged the relationship of her moisture to her weight. In this resting time she has “sat down”. My intention now surrendered, I turn her slowly on the pedestal, quietly studying what she has done through the short night. I study her again, quietly…I am surprised when I find myself actually liking what I see – the solidity of her form appeals to me. I carefully build her higher and higher. I now know this form will not tolerate symmetry of any kind – she is one of movement and extension – her own way. She moves in and out, up and down, reaching and resting…gracefully she stands tall, and strong; boasting seven trees embraced around her curving, pregnant belly. She begins to feel divine – these seven entwined sisters both holding and stretching her.

I smile as I remind myself of how often I forget to simply “show up “ at the table and offer my hands to the clay – putting aside expectation and trusting Creation alone. I have learned over and over that this is the only way I ever truly create anything – by simply letting go and showing up. The clay will speak if I am quiet. This vessel is speaking as I slowly quiet my expectation.

Now, in the climax of bringing forth this new form, the delicate discernment of equalizing the moisture from the top to the bottom, to allow the tedious scraping, carving, cleaning, and burnishing begins. My left hand softly cups her roots while the right, gently and slowly caresses her belly, then lightly scans the tips of her branches, attempting to bring the two as close as possible to one in moisture. Her tips, those vulnerable new buds must be carefully protected as I cover and wrap them three times as gently as I can. Her neck is wrapped in two layers; her belly wrapped and covered once, while her roots are covered only once, without a wrap, in a thin layer of plastic – these the strength of who she truly is. This is the balance, reaching for unity. She soaks in her moist, terry cloth blanket, and we sleep again.

When I return to the table, I undress her to find evidence of the form supporting her roots beginning to stress a bit – a pre-cursor to cracking. Again, she has sunk into a slighter deeper place. Again, I center her on the pedestal and turn her slowly to study what she has done in four short hours. Several minutes later, I decide I am too far along to surrender, I continue, attentive to her stresses while convinced she is simply evolving in her own way – vulnerable while determined – claiming her own bed of roots.

I delicately and tediously work with her hour after hour – pausing to wrap and rest – working several hours and pausing. Too much too fast could jeopardize all she has grown to be. I yearn for more time to carefully detail her every branch and root. Abruptly, seemingly out of nowhere, she suddenly refuses one more touch, as if to say, “enough, This is who I am”. I put down the tools and very lightly clean her surfaces one final time. I turn her on the pedestal again. “This” is who she is…. a divine beauty, rooted not in any form of perfection, but in a bulging, delicate tapestry of story and courage. .. incredibly and wholly supported by her roots of the spirit.

ROOTS OF THE SPIRIT

ROOTS OF THE SPIRIT