At the end of February this year, I had the luxury of participating in a 4 day Kate Church workshop. If you aren’t familiar with Kate’s work, you can learn more about her here.  katechurch.blog/about/

But briefly, from Kate’s website:

  “Combining the line and form of sculpture with the playful anima of puppetry has been my livelihood for more than thirty years. The intention of the work is to carry a silent imprint or sense of emotion through the posture and expression of the figure evolving in front of me. Built using a process that is movable throughout its construction, a tangible sense of emerging comes naturally to the finished sculpture: movement is part of the design.”

I had long wanted to return to sculptural form to explore another area of my work, and I felt that a workshop with Kate might help.

The workshop was in Chester, Nova Scotia, my old stomping grounds for my apprenticeship with Paula MacDonald. I stayed with Paula for the four days that I was there. It was heaven—all of it. The workshop, with other people (artists) I didn’t know, learning from Kate, and spending time with Paula—it was a lovely experience.

I went in with low expectations since I hadn’t worked with polymer clay before. We worked through things step by step, with some of the participants having attended Kate’s workshops before but wanting to finish up in-progress pieces, all the way to first-timers, like me, who relished the newness of this medium—how pliable, how forgiving, how unlike clay.

By day 2, I was starting to feel something for the polymer. I thought I’d like to make a muse figure to help keep me grounded, but I wasn’t sure if I could accomplish it. I decided to start and to feel my way there. After a couple of false starts on making a head, Kate suggested I start with a spoon and work with the polymer. Within an hour or so of poking, prodding, pinching, and smoothing…..a face began to emerge.

It was so interesting to sculpt a face that I began to recognize, and that resonated with me. At one point, as Kate was doing her check-ins, she leaned in to examine the face I was creating, and she happily remarked, “I see her. There she is.” Kate moved us through section by section of our figures—head, arms, and legs—the rest is wire and some wood, as well as a quick sew of some kind of garment.

All in all, as I pieced my muse together, following my instinct and taking instructions from Kate on wrists, heels, and toes, she was formed. Hair was tricky, and as I tried medium after medium, it wasn’t until I put the moss on that I said, “That’s it.”

As adults, we sometimes forget to approach new things without expectations. We lose our childlike openness to play. We attach to outcomes and put too much emphasis on the wrong things. We take ourselves too seriously. But sometimes, we have the great fortune to enter an environment that feels safe and limitless (a rare combination), and that’s where magic can happen. That was Kate’s workshop for me.

(This blog was originally published on my old website in May 2024. I wanted to carry it with me to my new website as I think it captures part of this new chapter.)