Our Mistakes Often Make Us
- James Murphy
- Jun 14, 2024
- 3 min read
October 28, 2023 by James Murphy
Our mistakes often make us. When I was twenty years old, I climbed onto the roof of a bar during a game of truth or dare and, instead of returning the way I came, jumped to the ground. I’d jumped from higher spots and been fine, but when I hit the gravel of the parking lot, I broke my leg at the ankle and spent the next eight weeks in a cast on the couch recovering. I quickly got bored of watching tv and picked up pen and paper to start drawing. As the weeks passed, I became more interested in visual art and design. By the time I recovered from the broken leg, I was committed. A few months later, I bought my first paint set and the next year I purchased a design software to learn digital art and make t-shirts. At the time, I didn’t know that the choice to jump would set me on the path to becoming an artist.
After a few years of self-taught painting, drawing, and design, I enrolled in a local community college’s graphic design program. I quit drinking and partying the summer before the program began and dedicated myself to creativity. A few years into the program I discovered ceramics. Working with clay made me feel more alive than any other medium I’d encountered. I dropped my design program and switched to fine arts with a focus on ceramics. The focus and intention I poured into the clay studio came back to me in the form of a scholarship to a local arts school where I would go on to study ceramics.
As someone who always loved psychology and philosophy, working with clay was a magical experience. Through the forms I threw on the wheel, I came to know myself better. I could see myself, my own peculiarities, in the work I created. The story of my life was written out in physical form before my eyes. I also learned new approaches to life. The clay is adaptable and, as an artist, I must be as well. Things I perceived as mistakes and flaws in my work were often complemented by others.
My vision for what something should be is not always best. Often, the world knows what we need more than we do. By sacrificing my attitude of total control and allowing a conversation to occur between myself, the material, and outside influences, I flourished as a maker. A favorite poet of mine, David Whyte, often refers to the “conversational nature of reality” and destiny. In playing with clay, I came to appreciate how much of my life is an open conversation, highly adaptable, and free for interpretation.
When I arrived at my new university, I continued a project of clay masks designed to hang on the wall. I was investigating the psychology of the masks we wear and the masks we put on other people and places through our own perception. The project forced me to look inward. I thought often of the alchemical phrase “In filth it will be found”, for out of the mud we make beautiful things and often the things we want the most are where we least want to look.
Through my investigations and play in ceramics I prepared myself to leave St. Louis Missouri, where I was born, and go out into the world. My university has a global citizen program with campuses all over the world. They encourage students to study abroad and experience other cultures. I decided to study in Leiden Netherlands for one semester. I did not know how that decision would change my life.
After two months in Leiden, I called home and told my family and friends I would not be returning to St. Louis. In fact, I would be changing my major to psychology and continuing my studies in Europe. Switching from working with clay to studying psychology felt like a natural transition. There was no doubt in my mind those two would pair well together and I may pursue art therapy in the future.
None of this was my plan. Not that I never had a plan. I’ve made hundreds of plans and lists. But life came at me, and I had to answer in the moment. Whether my decisions were mistakes or the appropriate choice, they played a part in turning me into who I am today.
Very inspiring!