JEANIE HOLLAND

    I was the odd one in my southern family. Always up late drawing, collecting junk to decorate my room. My mother couldn’t understand, I was, well, a little scary. The south is a perfect paradise if you’re just a bit strange. Growing up in the Carolinas, I was raised on rich narratives, a respect for nature and the porch. 

    I’ve had many jobs. Some I loved and worked at for years and others I hated and moved on. All led me to the path I follow today. In 1990 I took a clay class at Callanwolde Fine Art Center in Atlanta and the door was opened. 

    My current work is slab constructed from red earthenware exhumed directly from the ground in Lizella Georgia. It feels like butter without the grease. The slabs are thrown out on a table by hand, laid in molds, left flat or joined and blown to puffy sculptures with a straw. Once the clay stiffens, I carve, incise and paint the piece with stories and images derived from a glossary of personal symbols and observations. The work changes all of the time. I learn new things every time I fire the kiln.  

    Clay has a way of telling you amazing things about yourself. It humbles you, keeps you honest. I love what I do. I love sending something out in the world and hearing the stories people tell about it. It takes me back to the porch I grew up on, sitting in the dark on a starry night just listening.