The Art Studio and Greg Busceme Sr... What a Difference They Made in My Life.

I'm a chef fan-girl and I adore Anthony Bourdain.  He's the executive producer of this awesome show http://www.mindofachef.com/videos/watch-the-premiere-of-mind-of-a-chefs-potluck-music-special/. This creative video about food and the people that make it, unexpectedly brought to mind my experiences at The Art Studio in Beaumont, Texas as an artist in residence and potter. It also reminded me of the impact that Greg Busceme Sr. had on my life during that volatile time of life rushing around me like a whirlwind.  I realized what an important milestone this was and how much I cherished it.  Why haven't I written about it?  During this time, I was mired deeply in the love for  my babies, soccer games, dinner, PTA meetings and grocery stores.


Here, in this cavernous, dusty place, there was something differenct; clay, soft, gritty wet spinning clay that actually responded to something I wanted by letting me push it around and make something beautiful.  It seemed that the faster the wheel would spin my lump of clay, the slower my life would go, eventually giving me the chance to look inward and see there was a person there that was not someone's daughter, wife or mother.  There was actually a me in there.  My mentor in all this, unbeknownst to him I think, was Greg Busceme, all knowing God of clay and the Art Studio, devastatingly handsome and most of all, perceived by me, as fearless of what anyone thought of him.

I would drop off my kids at school and rush to the Art Studio where I became part of the family.  I would put on my revered red apron that I split down the middle so I could straddle the wheel and go to the kitchen which was usually cold, grab coffee and just listen.  The artists would talk, and I would listen.  I didn't say much, I felt it would be pretentious of me to jabber at these people that actually knew what they were doing but I relished that time in the often dusty kitchen with dirty dishes in the sink.

After soaking up the knowledge of the REAL artistis, I would get a lump of clay and begin the war between the clay, me and the wheel, to get it centered.  I loved the feeling of the clay in my fingers and how it responded in so many different ways as I poked and prodded and smoothed it.  Control!  I had something I could CONTROL!  As I began to get better, I would lose myself in this time.  Unfortunately, I lost myself so deeply that I was late to pick up my kids at school once or twice, so I started setting an alarm, giving myself time to get off the wheel before I had to leave.  These were wonderful times for me and I learned to just do what I wanted.  I didn't care if anyone liked what I was making because I liked it and my opinion was the only one that mattered here. I love Greg and those other artists for teaching me this freedom to not give a damn!  I began to experiment with shapes and many things I saw in nature, started to influence what I made in the studio.  Glazes became a new world of discovery and I found a new interest in of all things, chemistry!

I remember a very special night where I was invited to participate in the firing of  Raku.  I feel this night now as clearly as if I am actually there.  I remember helping to build the kiln, wondering what in the world we were going to do with so much sawdust and why the water wouldn't just break everything if we plunged hot clay into it.  Memories pervade of loading the lovingly made pieces into the homemade kiln with camaraderie and expectation and of course, the aching anticipation of what would come out in the end.   I have a Raku bowl, fired on this night that sits on my bedside table.  A precious memory, not only of fun but one of belonging. 

Today, watching the young Chef Bowein make this creative dish, brought that Raku night and Greg to my mind.  Sometimes, we never really know how much of an impact we make in someone's life so here is a note of thanks to Greg who made an impact on mine...

Greg, I want you to know that you had an impact on my life.  One of the best memories of my 80's suburban housewife and mother life, was of my short time as an artist in residence at the Art Studio, my hands coated in slip, watching the wheel turn.  I truly do think it was the beginning of my release to creativity and courage.  I can hear, with a smile on my face, you teasing me about my intense need for my clay to be usable art.  You were encouraging me to branch out.  "Well Joni," Greg would tease, "is this your Suzie homemaker art?" to which I would quote Zappa, "Suzie CREAMCHEESE!".   

To this day, I will sometimes mention to someone in a tiny little voice, almost a whisper, “I was a potter."  As their eyebrows rise to their hairline, they will ask astonishingly, “really”?  I cannot tell the story of the day I cleared my “shelf” at the studio without fighting tears.  It was a sad day and I won't go into all the reasons I had to go, but what is most important, the leaving as well as the coming to the Art Studio, taught me a great lesson.  I think it was the first seedling of the courage I would need several years later, to get on a plane for New York, where I really blossomed.   You Greg, were a very important milestone in my life, and I really felt it was time I told you that because I know I never have and you probably didn’t know.  Most of all, I wanted to say a very belated but well deserved, thank you!