An artist needs no reason. For Marta Pia, it was simply that “clay had always been around.” Clay – used by her mother, a ceramicist and sculptor – was an entryway and medium for channeling her creative ambition. Eventually, the clay begot metal. The metal begot jewelry, then paper, and ink, and so forth. And all the while, the material of the mind also kept Pia’s interest. Since she was 17, Pia has sculpted her study of meditation with a Taoist community in Thailand. Pia was born in Spain, moved to New York for school, and now works in Brooklyn, where the various chapters of her work adorn the shelves, drawers, and surfaces of her studio. Pressing Pause for Process Ceramics is a big love for me. It was always this big, earthy, challenging medium. But the minute things actually started doing well it was horrible. Instead of making twenty of something and letting it be, I had to make four hundred of them. I would hate it. It really killed the love I had for it. I did that a couple of times, but it was a mistake. This past February, I stopped. That was the biggest breaking point in the last year or so for me. It was a big decision to just make five of something for fun, hoping someone would want to buy them. And if not, then not. You might want to make twenty of something and then let it be. Not everyone has to have the same Ikea bag. So you make something, but then you make something new. The Art of Intuition I was 24 or so and I had been reading some books about the pineal gland and the third eye and the different ways to open it. I had wanted to get a tattoo of an eye on my finger. But my mom was like, “Didn’t you learn how to make jewelry? Don’t get a tattoo! Just make a ring!” Such a mom thing to say: “You can take it off whenever you want.” So then I did, and it grew from there. A lot of people don’t think they have a third eye or just don’t think about it at all. But the minute you realize that you do have it, you can listen to it, and to a certain extent, you can start making use of it. So my thought was to use the jewelry as a sort of reminder, but it’s kind of a blank canvas in my mind. It’s a reminder, or portal, or vessel of whatever you want to put in it. Processed with VSCO with a9 preset Shut The Fuck Up, Brain I have only started my meditation instructor training in Thailand this past July. Before that, I had attended a couple weeks at a time. There are two retreats a year: one in the winter and one in the summer. There’s so much. Chi-gong in the morning. Then breakfast. Then chanting. Then three hours of eyes-closed meditation. It’s a lot of visualization. The primary meditation is called the micro cosmic orbit, which is orbiting your energy to be in the rhythm of the macro cosmos from the atoms to the planets. It’s so specific, but that’s what makes it easier. Because if it’s really vague, then it’s really hard. Another big part of the tao is that you learn to tell your brain to shut the fuck up. Meditation has definitely opened the creative tap more, but I don’t think it has changed my artistic perspective. I think I had a very strong perspective from the beginning. I do think it makes me see it from a more psychological perspective. I’m way more into psychology than spirituality. The Work Embodied According to the Tao, the emotions get stored in the organs. Different organs house different emotions and your liver stores creativity and generosity – which I think are very linked. Actual creative people are okay with their ideas being stolen and shit, cause what are you going to do? Ideas are in the air and ideas belong to no one. The other emotions are worry and frustration: those are in the liver, too. And all of those are closely related to creativity. Frustration, worry, anxiety – even if it’s not “creative” – if it’s something you create, it’s going to give you a lot of worry and frustration. That’s why you need to be generous – to continue the work and keep on problem solving. So that’s what you need creativity for! The Tao of Marbling I have this weird gig where I teach art therapy to General Electric once a month. I teach them marbling. After doing this work and seeing how it’s meaningful in one way or another, I’ve noticed something: marbling and meditation are both what seem like useless time. Marbling isn’t really for anything. We’re so used to working and living because we have to. But with marbling, there’s no reason why you’d want to drink a coffee and ”get going” with it. Like, no. In fact, the process is a lot prettier than the actual prints. The prints are beautiful, don’t get me wrong. But the process of it is the whole reason to do it. And meditation is kind of the same. It’s where time stops and you really have to be present. You’re indulging in something that’s dear to you. It can be a puddle of colors or it can be your own persona. Or an idea of who you are. It sounds very simple, but that’s where the challenge resides. They both seem like they’re controllable, but they’re kind of uncontrollable. Meditation is like that.
