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Every summer I take my daughter to Estes Park, Colorado for time with extended family at the YMCA. The cousins go off to day camp while my sister, mom and I do something creative. This year my sister taught us to make folks out of DAS modeling clay. The idea is to take a fistful of foil, crunch it down to make a solid core, and then lay a layer of clay over that. Your aim is to shape a face and shoulders. Later you’ll add paint and fluff for hair, but at first, you have a blob of clay and a squished ball of foil.
Every possibility and no constraints. Way scary.
When I started with the clay I had no idea what I was making. I just started slapping on blobs—that’s the head, those are the cheeks—letting my fingers move along the clay. I’m no genius at making folks but I do know not to force it. If I start with the intention of making a Greek god with perfect jaw lines, I’ll end up with a lopsided snowman.
Yes, this is an allegory for writing.
But, back to the clay person. I just starting poking, making some eye sockets, and pushing up some cheekbones. Added big floppy ears and some eye detail. I enjoyed the pliability of the clay and the feel of the details as they emerged.
I got a sort of hunchback with uneven eyes and a weird nose. I smooshed it up and started over. Made a longer face, with a big, full mouth. Too big. I smooshed it up and started over again. Eventually, I got something that looked like a funny little man. Now I could slow down and go for some details.
After we baked him, I started painting over his terra cotta face. But what color is skin? Besides all the ethnic choices, I noticed by looking at my own freckled skin that it’s composed of bits of orange, green, pink and ivory, in addition to brown and white. I added those colors, painted again and again, added some silver to give him a magical glow.
After I painted him, I gave him a bit of hair. I knitted him a little scarf, because he seemed to be the sort of bloke that would hang out in cooler climates like bogs and ferny forests.
Like this.
Or this.
I like my clay man. But I wouldn’t have continued past the hunchback if it hadn’t been fun.
So once again, making art serves as creative teacher. Keep it fun. Redo if it’s lumpy and ugly, unless you’re going for ugly.
It’s only clay.
Or words.
*For more clay creatures, check out my sister’s blog. She’s Jill Berry, and it’s at http://jillberrydesign.com/blog/2012/06/20/summer-camp/
A handsome and impish metaphor! And it only took three drafts. Thanks for this tangible reminder, Linden.
What a sweet bloke he is! I love the reminder that as we create our characters, they are forever malleable, pliable, and very forgiving, even when we make mistakes or can’t quite get a handle on them. Fun to play with and prod them along as they take shape and simply become. They are OURS!
What is his name? I have known his fine face for weeks now, but have no moniker for the bloke. You were amazingly good at creating these characters, and I look forward to the story of this man’s fine friend. Did she do such a nice photo shoot too?
After witnessing him come to life under your fingers, it is fitting to see him in the forest or the crook of a tree–I await further tales of his adventures, and his lady friend as well. More foil! More clay! More imagination!
The creative process you describe gives me a much-needed nudge to Just Start Writing Now—and worry about what “it” looks like later. Your little man looks lively and full of personality. I like that he’s a wee bit scary too. Does he have a story yet?
I like your man, too. There’s something so wonderful about creating something tangible that serves to feed a different part of our brains. I sometimes do the same sort of thing with a pack of 36 markers and a big slab of blank paper. Nothing like doodling to change it up a bit. Thanks for the post!
Oh LInden! I LOVE this. I used to sculpt and your post reminded me of something I learned from working with Charles Parks in Delaware. The surface will have more texture, substance and authenticity if you begin with the skeletal and muscular form underneath. So true in writing. Thank you for the reminder!
I loved your post, too, Linden, as well as Sue’s comment. It gives much to ponder in terms of its application to creating our own story characters. Thanks for the post.
I love your little man, I love your creativity, and I LOVE you! Thank you for sharing your wisdom and art with me
You little guy needs a friend, to hang out with, brew lemon-ginger tea with, munch on a scone and start making trouble. Lots ‘o trouble. Can’t wait, Linden!