Wednesday, March 5
I think part of the problem I have with making pots is the inability to become atatched to them. As I wrote earlier, you never know if they are going to survive. It is hard to dedicate hours in a day, days in a week and so on to a pursuit that sometimes yields so little concrete satisfaction. Tonight I threw the beginnings of twelve lemon juicers. Twelve being the starting number, who knows how many survive trimming, attachments, glazing and firing. What, maybe five or six? If I am lucky. I guess part of this is inexperience. Certainly the longer one is a potter the higher the success rate, but still . . . I look at these beginnings of pots sitting on their shelves and at this moment-I love them. They are beautiful, fresh and full of possibility. They are sexy, moist and enticing. I also love them when they are leather-hard. In this stage you can pick them up and they have this gentle sheen and soft coolness to the touch. It feels like you are holding damp silk. Once the water leaves there is something else that leaves as well. Maybe it is the possibility of change. When they are dry they seem almost dead and the pot I held in my hands just a few days ago with pleasure I now feel somewhat indifferent to.
Post note: none survived. I had a very difficult time carving the reamer parts of the juicers, and realized quickly I'd never do twelve. I will have to try carving one, and casting the part I think. So now I have 11 "salsa" dishes instead. I'll post a picture of the miraculous transformation later.