It surprised me how strong the voice was of the clay. I had placed the oil based clay upon the heater this morning, I spoke to the clay-like you would plants. I told it I would let it warm up gradually. I was not rushing it to become anything.
It would know when it wanted to be made into art. Then, it could whisper to me to come pick it up and mold it.
I got paper towel out and went to the clay. It was perfectly warm- ready for me to learn upon it. I wanted to make a small head and go over the lessons of proportion and the shape of the eye and lid. I was humming to myself quietly and working away smoothing and kneading the clay into the head shape.
I had place the eye lids upon the eye, yet I had pushed the eye too far into the skull so I blended the lids back into the pupil. At that point the head said: "Please let me have my eye lids, I need to see."
I had goose bumps over my body and quickly added the eye lids back. As soon as I did the head was happy and relieved.
I was too.
It sits over by the clay that is not made into anything. He is roughed out, he is happy being rough. (smiling) Art is interesting…Lordy mercy- it sure is!