Amanda Smith creates intricate, delicate, and bizarre worlds. Metallics and pastels, tiny flowers and girls in knee socks—strange narratives told beautifully using slabs of clay and colorful glaze. She has a BFA in three-dimensional studies from Bowling Green State University in Ohio, and an MFA in spatial arts from San Jose State University in California. She used to be an art and ceramics teacher at Irvington High School in Fremont, California, but now she is a practicing artist, and stay-at-home mom, in Fostoria, Ohio, with her daughter, Gemma, and husband, artist Casey Jex Smith. Her lovely work has been exhibited all across the United States, and has recently made its way to Europe as well.
JC—Have you always felt like an artist?
AS—Since I was a little girl, I have always been the “artist” of the family. I was labeled an artist by my parents and sisters long before I actually felt like one. I don’t think I truly felt like an artist until I decided to pursue it as a career. That decision came when I decided to major in art in college. I was twenty-one.
JC—Do you see your life as an artist and your life as a mother as two separate things, or do they go hand in hand?
AS—I see them as totally different. Although I absolutely love my life as a mother, and I consider it more important than anything else I do, much of my time is filled with mundane repetitive tasks like making lunch, giving baths, shuttling to doctors’ appointments, or doing puzzles. On the other hand, I consider being an artist (and I hope all artists will forgive me) a pretty selfish endeavor in comparison. But for me, it’s a necessary selfish. When I’m making art I feel like I’m getting in touch with myself. When I’m being a mom, it’s all about bonding with my little girl.
JC—Do you ever feel “mom guilt” when you’re away at the studio?
AS—No. I am a stay-at-home mom, and I’m with Gemma 24/7. My studio time is only around ten to fifteen hours a week at this point, so I relish my time to be creative. I consider it my ultimate indulgence. I’d rather go to the studio than go to a movie, or out to dinner, or almost anything else. The other reason I don’t feel guilty about my studio time is that Gemma is with her dad when I’m in there, and she’s a real daddy’s girl.
JC—How does criticism affect you?
AS—I like to think I’m very receptive to criticism. I appreciate it and I learn a lot from it, but if it’s too disparaging, sometimes I lose my confidence and I freeze up.
JC—Does that criticism ever come from your inner critic?
AS—My inner critic is always the loudest voice in my head. Sometimes it’s a good thing because it gets me to reflect and change directions, but other times it is crippling.
JC—Have you ever been given advice on how to navigate those crippling blocks?
AS—I follow the advice of my mentor at Bowling Green State, John Balistreri. He told me, “Whether you’re making good work or bad work, just keep making art, and eventually you’ll start making something you are happy with again.” That’s what I try to do. Sometimes it takes a long time and I make a lot of bad art, but eventually it works. I have frequent creative blocks, like I think every artist does, but I learn a lot about what I want in my art from my unsuccessful work.
JC—Where do you find inspiration?
AS—My family, current events, Pinterest, museums, and the library.
JC—Do you ever get overwhelmed by the amount of amazing artwork that you can find online?
AS—Of course! You’d have to be astoundingly arrogant not to be overwhelmed and jealous of it. I just keep in mind that humility is healthy for everyone, especially for artists. The humility makes me teachable, and I learn a lot by looking. I try to turn that overwhelming feeling of inadequacy into curiosity.
JC—Would you throw a piece away if it’s not working, or would you just keep going until you’re happy with it?
AS—I throw stuff away all the time. I even throw away finished work if I’m not happy with it.
JC—I’m stunned by that—your work is so labor- and time-intensive! Does trashing the unsuccessful finished work feel like a relief, or is it upsetting to you?
AS—Frankly, when I throw away bad work, I feel relieved—mostly that no one will ever see it. I have no qualms about tossing it.
JC—Do you ever equate your self-worth with your artistic successes?
AS—Yes, but I’ve found that to be kind of dangerous, since success is cyclical. I don’t know that it’s healthy to attach your self-worth to the opinions of your critics or your fans. I feel like my performance as a mother, wife, daughter, or friend is far more important than my performance as an artist, and that is where my self-esteem is tied up.
I have frequent creative blocks, like I think every artist does, but I learn a lot about what I want in my art from my unsuccessful work.
