The clay gets a say: the stories behind my work

I think in pictures. Sometimes a thought arrives as a color or a shape before I can find the words for it. Sometimes I need to write my way toward it. That's why I make pottery and write musings. One feeds the other, and I don't always know which will come first.

My Jewish heritage gives those pictures roots. Clay gives me a way to share them.

Rooted in tradition, with room to explore

I describe my work as Jewish folk art, the way I understand it. I draw inspiration from Jewish stories, symbols, and traditions, then give myself room to explore. I'm not trying to say everything with every piece. I'm finding my own way into a story and seeing where it takes me.

As I grow older, l'dor v'dor, “from generation to generation,” means more to me. A seder plate or Shabbat candles can carry memories along with tradition. The objects we bring into our homes become part of how we live, celebrate, and remember.

That's part of what draws me to making things you can hold and use. A piece doesn't have to stay at a distance. It can become part of someone's everyday life.

The clay gets a say

Of course, imagining a piece and making it are two different things. I bring my ideas, but the clay gets a say, too. Working with my hands asks me to be patient, trust myself, and recognize when it's time to begin again. A little humility helps.

I think of the passage in Jeremiah where he visits a potter at the wheel. When a vessel spoils in the potter's hands, the potter reshapes it into another vessel (Jeremiah 18:3–4 in the Jewish bible). In that passage, the potter represents God and the clay represents the House of Israel.

In my own work, that image gives me something to think about: what do I do when things don't take the shape I expected? I can take responsibility for my next choice. I can start again. And sometimes the surprise leads somewhere worth going.

Then you bring your own story

Two ideas about art have stayed with me. Tolstoy's view of art as a way to share feelings helps me think about why I write. Duchamp's idea that the viewer contributes to the creative act helps me think about what happens after a piece leaves my hands.

I bring my memories, feelings, and imagination to the making. You bring something I can't supply: your own way of seeing it.

Maybe a piece reminds you of someone. Maybe it speaks to a tradition you cherish. Maybe you simply love its color or the way it feels in your hands. You don't have to see exactly what I saw for it to mean something to you.

The NS stands for Nancy Strahinic. I hadn’t planned to take a married name, but my soon-to-be stepdaughters’ enthusiastic invitation to share theirs won me over.

The Utah outline holds a hamsa, a symbol of protection in Jewish tradition. I grew up near Chicago in a strong Jewish community. Here in Utah, that community is much smaller, and bringing a little more ‘Jewish’ into the state inspires my work. So I tucked that part of me right into its outline.

I put my maker’s mark on the bottom, but I don’t get the last word. Once a piece comes into your home, your story becomes part of it, too. Some of my pieces have already found their forever homes. Come meet them in my Past Creations gallery. Maybe you’ll find a little inspiration for your own home.