themudpot

Sooo Pretty . . .

2011-06-13T21:38:00.003-04:00

Ehllo....for lack of any other "art" to post, I pulled these out the other day. Some cartoons I drew at work a couple of years ago. I had just seen Bruno before drawing this one, and it was also Thanksgiving time, so it was natural of course to combine the two...

Not that anyone is following my sure to be long ordeal of applying to grad school, but I am getting close to narrowing it down to about five schools. I'm thinking Alfred, University of California Long Beach, Chicago Institute of Art, Montanna University and maybe R.I.T. Years back I wanted to apply to R.I.T. mainly because Julia Galloway taught there, but it seems she has since moved to Montanna to teach if my research is correct-hence my interest in Montanna.

I can say of this process that I wish the application process was a little more unified between schools. Already, I have THREE different formats of portfolios going (I have a feeling that number will grow). One school wants the GRE test, another wants the MAT, two letters here with this form but do it this way over there. I'm just plodding along through it. Well, that's it for now.

Oh dear . . .

2011-06-10T18:44:00.004-04:00

Hello all! It's been so long since I've posted. I have kept an eye on what's going on, but been distracted myself. A lot has happened! Let's see...I lost my job! Kind of a bad thing, but actually a blessing in disguise. I have been wanting to go to Graduate School for a very long time to get my MFA so I can teach ceramics in a college somewhere...and this was really a boot to get me going. I was looking around and applying to all the jobs that I DON'T want to have for the rest of my working life and I'm like: eureka! Of course! I shall pursue my dream. But getting fired has it's downside. Lack of money, having to move out of my apartment and was a bit of a blow to my self-esteem for a while, but I'm back! Applying to grad school is so much work! Daunting, especially when you multiply it by 5 or 6 places, but I'm plugging along. So this photo I attached is an early attempt at using Photoshop Elements 9. I can't wait till I have time to really study the program. Mind boggling what you can do with it. Another photo of moi'. I'm kind of into self-portraiture lately. I hope everyone is doing great and I will try to post a little more often and let you know if I get in! I am applying so far to: University of Montanna, Alfred, R.I.T., University of California, Long Beach, and my old Alma Mata Plymouth State!

Death and Taxes and Rainbows

2011-03-06T16:13:00.006-05:00

People don't change. It is the idiom that no one wants to believe. You always want to believe that everyone exists in the same mental reality that you do. In the sense that they think about the things they do, their actions, the effects of those actions, and they always want to do better by them-for themselves and for everyone in their lives. But it's not true.

Most people only exist for what is the better for them. It is just the sad truth. And so when people tell you "he'll never change", "she'll never change", it's not because they are being cynical, and you want so much to believe that they: JUST DON'T GET IT. They: JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS PERSON THE WAY YOU DO. But the truth is . . . that they do. Maybe they don't understand that particular person, and so they have no emotional attachment to cloud their views. But they at least understand human nature, in a way that dreamers and artists rarely do. We are optimistic! Visionary! We see potential where others see blank canvas and maybe just a lump of misshapen clay. Where they see chaos or fear-inducing uncertainty, or so much potential, that it just stops them dead in their tracks without even trying-we often see hope and a vision. And who is right?

I guess it depends on whether it is life or art, or life imitating art-which is usually the mind of the artist. We can't let go of the reality of failure. A failure is just an opportunity that we might not have seen with our eyes glued to perfection and our original vision. So who is right?

I don't know. It depends I guess on what you view as right or successful. Safety? Peace? Predictablility? Everything going according to the great happy plan? And maybe you thrive on chaos. Maybe you thrive on drama. Maybe you thrive on the anxiety and intensity of it all. Or maybe it rips you to shreds, as you realize, that no matter how optimistic you are, no matter how many colors of paint that you layer, over layer, over layer, you still can't let go of the work. You can't just step away and go: done. I should stop now. And so you keep on swirling that brush around and around; blues, greens, yellows, reds . . . but it doesn't matter. You just end up with a murky, greyish- brown. It is one thing, other then death and taxes that is certain. You can layer all the colors you want, and mix them fervently with all the hope you have, but you will never end up with a rainbow.

They might be right.

On the right side of the Queen

2011-02-27T16:30:00.009-05:00

Oh dear. It's been almost a week and I've nothing to write about. Or rather-nothing I wish to write about . . . oh my. Life is a conundrum, an experience, an exchange of ideas and tolerances and expectations and beliefs and . . . it's life. Let's see . . . never one to want to disappoint, let's come up with a story.

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a forest. This was an ordinary forest except for one thing . . . there were no trees. This forest was full. It was hard to navigate and explore, so dense and full of objects and obstacles it was. But instead of chipmunks, and trees, and salamanders and wood-nymphs, there were only ideas, beliefs and philosophies. And there were paths . . . many . . . to choose.

One day, this forest-princess set out on a journey to become what she should be, and instead, discovered a path of who what she could be, if only she were to open her mind and heart and close her pre-conceptions of the world in front of her and what is was she thought it expected of her and would praise.

And she woke up one morning, her heart light and full of hope and peace, and discovered that she had not felt hopeless about herself, as much as hopeless about that idea. Of life empty of the love of one, who although would never seat her at the right side of the Queen, would seat her at the right side of herself. A life of love, and tenderness, and her heart's beauty . . . none of which had been witnessed in quite that way before.

And it was a splendid thing.

Ravenous Rippet' Snippet'

2011-02-22T19:31:00.014-05:00

Sooooo, I mentioned before that I might occasionally post up little bits of what I am writing. The great thing about awful things happening to you is that it gives you something to write about. Keep in mind, this little snippet is part of a bigger, overall picture and story, and is not so depressing as it sounds. Just getting it out with words you know?

I have become acutely aware of our separation. I hover on the outside, looking into two worlds. Not belonging to the groovy, hip has-not’s, and not wanted or accepted with the ones who “have”, I now struggle to find my place in between those worlds. Where once was only the “idea” that we were different- a vaguely held concept that those kind of people believed they were above me-there was now hard fact. And learning this, and knowing this, and understanding this . . . shook me to my core.

I had always wanted to believe these feelings and ideas were in my head. Just a symptom of growing up poor-ish, or at least in less than ideal circumstances. A life lived with that deeply ingrained understanding of your place in the world. I never sat down to define myself. I never intentionally put myself into a category or tried to compartmentalize my life-it was just one of those things that was understood. You grow up “knowing” where you fit in. You go to work “knowing” the kinds of jobs you will have. And you love certain kinds of people “knowing” they are like you . . . and brave are the ones who push hard enough, and take the risk to redefine themselves, because they will always be resisting those who want to push them back into their place so they can be the king of their hill.
It is the way of all species.
Only we humans do it with forethought, and consciousness, and often sometimes cold cruelty, in the desire to make more room for ourselves, so we can open our feathers wider, drop our seeds into more fertile ground, and so our egos have more room to grow like over-fertilized chia-pets, and we often don’t care who we cast into the shade, to wither and die without the sun.
I do it too.

Marcoi' and The Princess

2011-02-18T16:57:00.020-05:00

So . . . the deal with my last post "Fallen Bird", and this little
number, is basically that the guy I was recently dating told me that he would be embarrassed to tell his friends and family what I do for a living . . . that I am a cook. I'll spare you all the details except I severely misjudged his character. I've been treated badly many times, and put up with way too much crap before, but never have I had someone tell me that I was not good enough for them to be proud to be with me. Pat myself on the back though-I left.

Marcoi': "My name is Marcoi' . . . I look noting like dis in real life . . . dis is just your fantasy of how you wish I looked . . . actually. . . I look like a republican . . . with a right-side part."

Princess: "Aahh . . ."

Marcoi': "I am highly succesful business man . . . I travel far and wide . . . you can use my frequent flyer miles . . . I will take you . . . ANYWHERE."

Princess: "Gasp! How could I be so lucky!"

Marcoi': "Did you buy that dress to impress me today?"

Princess: "Of course . . . I never owned a single nice thing before I met you . . . I never had any reason to look good before I met you. You have saved me from my raggy, peasant life."

Marcoi': "What is it you do Maiden, to earn your keep?"

Princess: "I . . . er . . . mmm . . . eh . . . eee . . . cook?"

Family and Friends: "Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! he! he! he! he! . . . ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! . . . Loser! . . . How embarrassing! . . . She's a what?!?"

Marcoi': "You shame me."

Princess: "Pompous, self-righteous, smug, shallow, hypocritical, judgmental, arrogant, small, small, small, small boy-man . . . If you were not the self-important, "successful" white-collar person you are . . . I, would be out of YOUR league. Get it? Good."

Fallen Bird

2011-02-12T19:23:00.010-05:00

Once upon a time there was a tiny little hummingbird. The hummingbird moved very, very fast-as you would expect a hummingbird to do, and given the nature of a hummingbird, moving fast was no miraculous feat. The miracle of this hummingbird, or rather, the most unusual thing, was that it believed it could fly.

Born and raised with other birds like itself, the little bird knew nothing else than being the bird it was. It watched the other birds buzz their wings, and it buzzed inside itself in the places that would move it’s wings too. It felt the buzz in its’ back, the tickle in its very fast heart and because of the way it felt these things, it always assumed it could fly.

So one day, the little bird saw another bird-a different kind of bird, one that had grown up in a different kind of nest all together. A nest made of tinsel, and gold, and very soft things, and the little bird walked to the edge of its own nest, a nest made of twigs, and grass and pokey things and string, and stepped off, believing it would fly to the other bird.

However, as soon as the bird stepped off it’s nest, it fell quickly to the ground. It did not fly at all-it only fell-the way it was always afraid it would. And though it flapped it’s wings, and felt the buzz, and tried so very hard to reach the other bird, it fell straight down and landed underneath it’s nest.

“I don’t understand”, the bird thought to itself. “I don’t understand!” the little bird shouted to the other bird on the ground. “Where are my wings?” it asked, and turned to look at it’s reflection in a pool of water on the ground.

The little bird flexed the muscles on it’s back. It shrugged it’s shoulders and stretched its neck, and puffed out its back, and behind its’ head, the most glorious of wings unfolded; wings three times the size of the other birds. The little bird stretched it’s wings out as far as it could, and they reached over the ground, and across the grass, all the way to the other bird; pulsing with life, and beauty and untaken flight. It wrapped its’ wings around the other bird, and caressed its cheek with its feathered tip.

“Oh bird,” the little bird said to the other one. “I believed I could fly to you,” “but instead, I only fell to the ground.” And the other bird said to the little fallen bird, “I’m sorry little bird, I did not know". "I never have to leave the sky."

Free

2011-02-10T16:49:00.003-05:00

This is another little ditty I wrote down one day. It is not entirely memorable or notable, just a freewrite I did to come up with some ideas for songs. I'm kinda busy so haven't had time to post and thought I might put something up. Looks longer than it is . . .

Free

I keep looking back

for what you said I lacked

And I see you and me

and the space between

trying to fill a dream

and this is the place I’m at

trying to see the sky as blue

instead of black and

pull this weight off my back and

if love is my religion

does that mean that I am an atheist

or a realist

and do I have to go to war to fight

for my right

to keep them from pounding on my door

because I bought some Nyquil or Anbesol

or some other shit they say

I can get high from

and I’m standing there and I can barely breathe

and they say they want to look around

and I’m like: “this is America man” . . .

And they say: “exactly”.

And so I do a little pirouette and I say:

"How’s that for a look around?"

and they are not amused

And I’m surprised because

usually I think I’m a pretty funny girl

Or a woman,

I haven’t made up my mind yet

and I can see he’s got his hand on his trigger

and I’m like Man, I am not interested

and he says I can see

you’re not going down without a fight

and I’m like: “Baby . . . I can be your worst nightmare . . .

. . . or your best bad dream”.

And It’s like I’m an invincible wall of

fire

and I’m shooting out one tiny hole of light

but it’s a blinding ray

and so I spend a lot of my time wondering

if I should be dimmer . . .

and if you had a pull chain on your neck

I would think that it was kinda strange

and yet . . . strangely convenient

On - Off

Off - off - off.

And now all I have left is god and me

when he’s not too busy answering prayers and

being a poster-child for the latest conflict

in the name of his almighty saving grace

and everyone is just praying and praying

Should I take this job?

Should I buy this TV?

Should I drop this bomb?

And God is just yelling:

“Think! Think!”

He’s a busy guy

Or gal, or woman

I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet

And I’m not sure I want to

Before It Eats Me . . .

2011-02-04T18:22:00.001-05:00

Hunger

2011-02-02T18:24:00.016-05:00

This is another story I wrote in college. Bon appetite.

HUNGER

I met Mary at the deli on Third Street. She was buying hot dogs. I was buying ham. She looked at me and asked me which were the ones I would buy; the ones with skins or the ones without. Before I could tell her I didn’t really care, she asked me about the cheese and pickled eggs, and told me about her tomatoes that she grew in the sun. She told me these things the way you would tell a friend. I listened while I thought of other things, watching her reflection in the glass that covered the meats and cheeses, the roundness of the glass elongating her neck like a gazelles. She talked to me about her tomatoes, and I wondered if a neck could work like that. In line to pay she came up behind me. “I got the one’s with the skins” she said. “Oh”, I said. What else could I say?

Sometimes I saw her other places. She would ask me things like: what do they do for fun around here? I told her I had never really noticed. She wanted to know where a good place was for her to take her car. I didn’t have one. How would I know a thing like that? Once at the Cafe she asked me what time it was. I looked down at my bare wrist. All I could think to say was that if I wore a watch, I’d always be reminded of where it was I’d rather be.

The Soap Bubble was the last place I saw her alive. She was eating crackers. She sat there, breaking them into tiny pieces, and putting the crumbs on her tongue where they lay like dry, brown snowflakes. She sat there with her tongue sticking out like that, just staring at her clothes. Once in a while she pulled her tongue back in and the snowflake would disappear. I watched her do this for a while, swallowing each piece like it was wet sandpaper. It made me hungry.

I asked her if I could have a cracker and she gave me the whole box. I took them and pushed them into my mouth, two, three at a time. She kept staring straight ahead while I chewed and swallowed. I stared at the box, trying to think of something to say. I reached my hand into the box and circled my fingers around a broken piece rocking it back and forth between my fingers and looked at her again. I wished I could climb inside with the socks and underwear that tumbled around inside. I wished I was under her car’s tires outside the front door, a sort of second page story in tomorrow’s news. I wished it were that easy. Instead I said, “good crackers”, and stuffed another one in my mouth as proof. I crushed it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and waited. She didn't speak and so I said, “I hope your clothes come out really clean,” and left. I left her sitting on the table like that, watching her things, turning in circles.

The last time I saw her was in the paper. She was dead. The paper had a little picture of her and so I knew who it was; it was a good picture. A couple days later I went to her wake. I took my place in line with the all the others-waiting my turn to grieve. I nodded solemnly and listened to things like: such a loss . . . she was so young . . . such a tragic thing. I took it all in, saving those words for times when words would fail me. Finally it was my turn. I thought she looked just fine. Her hair was shiny, her clothes were clean, her cheeks were pink and full of cotton. She looked like she’d just been born. I touched her arm, the silk fabric of her blouse sliding over her cool skin. I wrapped my hand around her wrist and shook it gently. Wake up I whispered. I took her other hand in mine and shook her again. Wake up I said.

Objectified

2011-02-01T06:11:00.014-05:00

When did hello become: "You have a great body". When did: "Hi, can I buy you a

drink?" turn to: "I think you're sexy". When did it become okay to greet me with: "I like

your build". And what makes you think you can ask if you can touch me, (as you reach

your arm out towards me, your index finger erect, as if you were poking a piece of

cooking meat to test and see if it is "done".

You think these things represent me? You think I find this endearing? You think I am my

arms, my ass and my little titties which you can't take your eyes off of as I speak? You

think you make my heart skip it’s lonely beat or thaw the frost that builds thicker and

thicker inside, until it's walls close in, and there isn’t any more

room left inside for your meat?

It makes my tight firm skin crawl. It makes me want to fold in on myself, until there’s

nothing left for you to see but what’s inside. It makes me want to eat Twinkies and

Doritos and Chunky bars until my cheeks bloat out, my walk slows, and my flesh jiggles.

What will you think of me then? And will you say hello? Or nothing at all.

Bikram

2011-01-31T18:23:00.018-05:00

Disgusting. The air felt toxic. The people looked toxic; crazed really. I felt like I had stepped into a cult of the already initiated, and so enmeshed they were in their common belief that what they were doing was right. What they were doing was good, that they had lost sight of reality: they were surrounded by germs.

The air was resplendent in them. It smelled the way it might if I piled 12 un-showered teenage boys, fresh from soccer practice, into my little Honda Fit. In the middle of summer. During a heatwave. While I sit in steamy air, in the drivers seat wearing all of their 24 socks tied around my neck. I tried not to breathe. Anxiety rose in me, and a little tiny voice of common sense and reason-that I have long since become accustomed to ignoring-telling me to: GET OUT. GET OUT NOW.

Having only seen the worn and glistening wooden floors, and soft cozy lighting of other studios, I looked down at the indoor/outdoor carpeting that covered the entry, changing areas and cubby spaces. And gasp! Horror of all horrors! When I opened the door to the practice room, I saw that the carpet flowed into that space as well. I trodded into the room in my bare feet. The floor felt sticky.

I found a spot for my mat, and before unrolling it seriously considered writing off the 16$ I had just paid as a relatively cheap lesson in common sense. Instead I stayed, and sweated, and tried not to think about what lived in the fake fibers of the furry thing underneath me-and now in between each of my poor, once pure toes. I Warriored and Scorpioned with the rest of them, doing my best never to touch the floor with my hands, while I watched in the cracked mirror on the wall, the rivulets of sweat pouring off the man in front of me, onto his towel, off his mat and into the floor.

And when I left, still wearing my soaking wet clothes and carrying my mat- which I would sanitize when I got home for the first time ever- I felt great, and I knew I would never, EVER, go back.

For T.

2011-01-30T06:12:00.017-05:00

Since we never had one of the talks you wanted to have because you said: “we need to” or, “I want you to know how I feel”, and you never sent the letter you said you wanted to write, I have only confusion. I feel adrift in space, bouncing off the moon, hitting the sun and ricocheting off stars as I try not to fall towards the space at the bottom where you will send me flying again.

I can not make sense of your love that turned to indifference so quickly. I make myself crazy trying to figure it out, even as I see that whether I understand it or not it will still be the same. And realizing this is like buckshot that shatters my heart, my ego and my hope with that one blast. Realizing that you don’t want me- no matter how much you keep telling me you do- is a hard thing.

You texted me again last night. The words “I love you” lit up my screen, and for a moment my heart. These voiceless displays of your affection that were once your arms around me are familiar now, and though once I would feel the ache that I was soaked in drain from my body-I know better now. I know those finger taps are some misfiring synapse between your brain and your heart and having reached into that steely-toothed jaw inside you so many times before, I have gnawed my hands bloody trying to free myself; only to reach in again.

It is so easy to wrap my love around you, and so hard for me to stay angry, which keeps me sliding back into your black hole gravity. I know by now though, that although you may point your confused love at me, it is my finger on the trigger. Every time I read those words and I believe you I injure myself, and each time my heart becomes smaller and less recognizable. Each time I become smaller and less recognizable. We’ve played this game before and it has no winner. Just a slow pecking away at everything that once made us real to each other.

My phone dings again and I see the words: “I miss you . . . do you love me?”, and instead of telling you that I miss you too-which I do like a cut that will not heal-I tap back on the screen: the thing about missing people is that there’s an easy cure.

We both know you live only a five minute walk away although I think I’m the only one who understands this.

You ask: what is that?

I answer: that’s like asking what the cure for hunger is.

You say: I get it . . . but you don’t do anything about it.

* * *

I want to remember us that day at your mothers. The day at the beach when I took your dog (OUR dog, you corrected me) for a long walk to give you some peace because I knew her energy was hard for you. You stood in her living room and as I crossed the room to you, you looked at me and said, yes . . . whatever it is, yes. I want to remember you that day - the way you looked at me. You still saw me as perfect.

Instead I try to remember you as you were the last time I saw you. Our bodies with each other only the night before, I could not understand your coldness and reached out and touched you asking why, trying to grasp what was not comprehendible, and when you said to me: leave Deb, just fucking leave . . . just go, I finally did, with a new resolve and anger towards you I had never felt before, which would melt away in days under the heat of my love for you.

I want to remember you the way you were that last night I saw you, but instead, all I can think of is you, the way you were that day, leaning against your mothers wall.

Fourteen year quilt

2011-01-28T11:46:00.007-05:00

So this is the most creative thing I've done lately. I started this quilt about 14 years ago-not kidding. I have made several other quilts since then, but I would always pull this one out, work on it for a while, then put it away again. Finally I made a decision a couple months back that I would finish it and so did. It is an original design I made, using several steps in process.

First I sketched my idea on a piece of paper, then gridded it off. Then I took freezer paper (has wax on one side) and taped enough pieces together to create a full size pattern which I then gridded off to same number of grids as original drawing, and then the fun began of transferring the drawing to large scale. Entire quilt, measures about 62" square, and was pieced together with around 700 pieces (I haven't counted but it's a guesstimate) , sewn into 144 squares, which were then sewn into one piece.

It was a pretty intensive project as there were a lot of pieces to keep track of, and so every single piece, no matter how small, was given a number and letter and color to designate it's position in the quilt. As in: 1aB meant: row 1, piece a which would be sewn to piece B and so on, in a shade of blue. After the design was transferred onto the freezer paper, then the entire pattern was cut into pieces, and then each piece was ironed onto the appropriate fabric using a warm iron (wax allows the pattern piece to adhere to the fabric but peels off very easily without leaving any residue.

Section of quilt. You can see the squares the quilt was assembled with. An attempt was made to keep the design flowing from square to square, but different fabric stretches differently and I wasn't always completely successful. Whatever! I wasn't completing in a competition and so cut myself some slack!

Detail of quilting stitches. Entire quilt was machine quilted.

Another detail of quilt stitching. Voila! Piece of cake!

F.M.L.

2011-01-27T17:23:00.001-05:00

Poof!

2011-01-24T19:00:00.007-05:00

I knew it.

Processing

2011-01-23T18:36:00.008-05:00

Something happened yesterday and I'm not gonna write about it. It's hard for me to write about emotional things without having time to process them. Kind of weed away the pain a bit. I don't have the same problem if I am just irritated-that can flow baby!-and writing helps to relieve the pressure and lighten my own mood. But when it's something sad, I need some time to distance myself.

I still can not quite come to terms with what some people do. I'm talking about adults. No offense to anyone under 29 out there, but kiddies are just natural born, self-centered little creatures. You expect them to act like self-aborbed, out of control, hurtful asses. But when you are dealing with an adult and they seem to be missing that little dam that lives in most peoples brains, that tends to be moderately effective at keeping their feelings from raging down the river, and becoming really destructive behavior (phew that's a long sentence and I'm not even done), it's another thing all together. Mix in little ol' -pure and innocent-trying -to -be- a -better- person-me . . . and I'm gonna get wiped out by the water.

So this thing happened last night . . . again. And I should just let it roll off my back like the greasy, toxic poison that it is, but my pores are too big and I soak it in like a sponge, and then spend the night, and the next day, and maybe even the next, waiting to dry. I leave a lot of water behind me on the floor.

Bitter goo

2011-01-21T17:45:00.005-05:00

So first, I just want to thank everyone for reading my blog. I was gone for a long time and just knowing everyone is still out there is comforting. Also, there are some new readers and I am very grateful for you as well. So there. That is the touching segment of this evenings show.

So I guess you saw the picture on the left? I wish I were that pale but sadly, that is just photo editing-but that's not really the point. You might be thinking: "cool". She super-imposed that nifty saying onto her back. I wonder if she used Photoshop. . .? Truth is though, that those words are printed in my back with ink.

I got this tatoo about two years ago (I think this is the first time my father Dennis has ever seen it. Surprise!) A long time collector of teabag wisdom-the words more inspiring to me than those of the bible-I found these words when I first began the crazy journey I've been on these last two years. I found them at at a time when it would have been easy to judge and walk away from someone's sad, decrepit life, (which would have saved me a lot of grief, but been a lesson lost). I don't know-I guess I was trying to turn over a new leaf. You know, care about people more (so much easier just caring about myself). I'm not exaggerating when I say that getting this tatoo changed me as a person. Of course I realize that the real change came when I decided to try and be a nicer person, but something about being branded with that commitment to this new philosophy . . . it made it stick.

I have been asked before why I got it on my back? If I got it to change myself then shouldn't I have gotten it somewhere where I could see it everyday? All I know is that I am acutely aware of it's presence. That little subconscious jolt has shocked me back out of anger and filled me with peace and love more than once. If anything, at times I sometimes have wished it away because as long as it is on my back I have to walk the talk and sometimes, like now, it's just hard. When people are mean and cold it is easier- and honestly more satisfying in a way- to be mean back. Just let your shit hang out and give it to em! But I just don't like the icky way that makes me feel anymore. Slimy; all covered in bitter goo.

I think all my anger just leaks out through these words and I like that. I can't hold a grudge anymore and it's good. Like an unbearable lightness of being thing, (I don't know if that actually applies but it sounds good). Right now I feel a little sad and despondent. My heart is broken a little. It sucks when things don't work out like you wish they would have. But as much as things have hurt I still try and remember the good and not the bad and still feel love and compassion for these people who have hurt me. I believe that they only do the things they do because they were hurt really badly once too. But that won't stop me from writing about them . . . (kindly of course).

fuckedupedness

2011-01-20T17:24:00.016-05:00

I don't make stuff up. That doesn't mean I don't creatively embellish (as in: he was like 6 feet tall and wore a red dress (maybe he was 5'10" and it was a red kimono), but any license I take is to paint a more visual or lucid picture. Still, I never just make anything up, and I never say something just to make myself look better-at the expense of making someone else look worse; which is why this really annoys me.

I work with this guy. It's just me and him in the kitchen, which is a recipe for getting on each others nerves. He is contrary. Just one of those people who loves to say the opposite-just to say the opposite. I know that type of person well-I am/was/attempt not to be-one of those people. It was when I first started this job (and worked with another guy whose nerves we got each other on (? WT . . . ). He was also contrary and working with him made me realize how annoying it was-and I vowed to try and reign myself in.

One morning this first guy came to work and told me this story: he was at a soccer game for his kids, hanging out and talking with all the other moms, and finally one of them turned to him and said:

"You like to be contrary don't you? It's annoying."

After he told me this, he just said to me-"it's know it's true, and I really don't like the way it sounded hearing someone say it" (or something like that ... my audiographic memory is weak on the exact verbiage). We were the same age.

Fast forward about 18 months, and several kitchen co-workers later (we have gone through about 35 employees throughout the store in the 20 months I've been there-but that's another story-many stories-woo hoo!) and here I am with this guy. This guy who, up until recently, I would have described to most people as a nice guy, but who increasingly gets on every last nerve I have.

So today I am saying something about these guys I dated in the past -(I try really hard not to speak about my personal life with him anymore, so I give him less opportunity to piss me off)- but sometimes I slip. So I say something about these guys I've been with in the last 2 years since I've moved to Maine as all being messed up, and he laughs; snickers really.

"What's so funny?" I say.

"You call everyone that-you think everyone's like that", he says.

"Well, that's because the guys I've dated since moving to Maine have been" I say.

I am already annoyed because:

One, I was stupid enough to set myself up, and two, because he has either:

a. not been listening to the things I've told him.

b. thinks I make all this stuff up.

c. disregards what I say because of the genitals I have between my legs.

d. is really just a jerk deep down and I gotta stop saying he's a nice guy.

You see the thing is, this is some of what I've told him . . .

Guy no. 1 was a compulsive liar. Shortly after we got involved with one another he had my name tatooed on his arm. He called me from the chair to say he was having it done. I really didn't think it was a good idea but hey, it's his arm. He later told my brother that I "was there with him when he got it done. Sitting in the chair, right next to him" (um . . . he did realize that me and my brother know each other right?). He later told the other woman he was seeing that, "he was drunk when he got it and was going to have it removed" (another story about how I find out these things).

Guy no. 2 was the Iphone dude, who as you may remember, I would find out was secretly bisexual and told me that the reason he had been unable to commit to me was that he thought when he had found the "right woman" his "disgusting" desire for men would go away and he would know he had found "the one". Since his tasty desires hadn't gone away, well ... He also didn't invite me to a Christmas Eve party because, there was a woman who would be there with whom he had a: "plantonic but very flirtatious relationship with", and he thought it would make me uncomfortable (how thoughtful of him).

Guy no. 3 was a guy who refused to ever give his dog water; and got angry when I did. He drank (the guy, not the dog) anywhere from 18-24 beers a day and gave me a lecture once on what defined "water" for his dog. I was not to let his dog drink from the toilet, from a five gallon bucket, from a lake, or from a puddle. Also, when I asked him those question we ask eachother: have either of us been married, had kids, etc. His answer was no. Turns out he was married and separated, had a 4 year old he never saw from a previous relationship, and, oh yeah, and the girl he was seeing before me . . . was five months pregnant.

Guy no. 4. is/was a guy (I am still withdrawing from this relationship) who also drank heavily. 12-18 beers a day and at 43 still does acid, ecstasy and nitrous oxide on a relatively regular (in relation to what most people might think of as normal or regular) basis. It's hard to describe the fear and timidity he instilled in me. I was not physically afraid, but emotionally afraid. He is generally a very gentle person, but would become very defensive and agitated at the strangest things. Life with him was a competition between the two of us and I just don't need to be a winner, or be with someone who needs to be. He once offered to be the designated driver when we went to see a show. I was tired, but he really wanted me to go and so made the offer. I was touched and grateful. After he downed a couple beers when we got there (okay fine, as long as he doesn't drink more) we were on the floor. I reached out to touch his face-he was drenched in sweat. I knew what that meant.

"You're on X", I said.

"I only took one." (he's saying this in his: baybeee it's not a big deal, come on sweetie-pie way he has).

"But you agreed to drive", I said.

"I'm fiiiiine", he crooned to me. "I just had one".

I wish that these details were "it"-you know? That other than all this craziness, all these relationships were awesome! But they are just little tiny details of really big fuckedupedness (I love it when I make up words). Which brings me back to the guy-this 23 year old guy that still has soooooooooooooo much to learn about life and relationships and people.

A, B, C or D?

I think all of the above.

In The Dark

2011-01-19T17:14:00.006-05:00

This is a short story I wrote in college. One of several that I never quite finished - meaning, get to where I want it to be, or where it needs to be. But I've always liked it, and so here it is-in all it's unpolished glory.

In The Dark

Nothing grew. Every tree we planted, every seed pushed into the ground, every blade of grass we coaxed to the surface with water and sweat and torn skin withered when it touched the sun; it was as if we’d purchased death.

We saw the house the day we buried your mother. Afterwards you said you needed to drive, and so we drove to the beach and stood on rocks with salt water spraying our feet and when you told me you could’t have gone through this alone, I knew alone meant: without me. We drove back that night and first saw the house in the dark. The “for sale” sign hanging from the lamp post creaked in the quiet wind, while we walked on the porch peering into empty rooms, seeing our furniture and record collections in those spaces. We held hands and imagined our bare feet under blankets in bed, finding each other.

We took a mortgage from the bank, and our stereo and record collection to the living room and put our bed in a downstairs room instead of up, because you said you wanted to be closer to the sand. Every morning you opened the outer doors to our room and stood in the sun, the cool air growing bumps on your skin as I pulled the blankets to my chin and watched you. The floorboards creaked and I always knew when you woke in the night to find the bathroom, or water, or to smoke. I watched as your cigarette floated up and down like a red firefly, lighting your face as you inhaled and then as you exhaled, I watched as you slowly faded away.

We scrubbed old wooden door frames and polished tarnished brass fixtures and planted the garden. When it didn’t grow we said the soil needed work and we’d try again next year. We made shelves for our books, and put hooks under the cupboards next to the sink for our cups, and we bought a new blender. On Sundays in summer we played music and sat on chairs under the umbrella, its’ ruffled edge hiding us from the sun. We chose books from the shelves to read and you paused every few pages to put your head back on your chair and quietly look at me, and after a while I stopped asking why.

When I was sick in September you made me your mother’s soup. You rubbed my back and brought me tea and blankets to ease my chill. Too sick to sleep and too tired to see you read to me stories by Hempel and Carver and asked: wouldn’t I like something a little more upbeat? I fell asleep to the harshness of your voice, and the sound of living.

When the weather turned cold we folded away the umbrella. You wrapped it in an old sheet to keep the dust away and put it in the shed until next year. In winter you shoveled prairies of snow from the roof and paths to our chairs and then shoveled those too. On Sunday mornings we wrapped robes and blankets around our shoulders, and sat on frozen chairs eating toast with jelly and drinking coffee cooled too quickly by the cold air, while waves crashed against the break.

In March you went to bed and I rubbed your back. I made your mother’s chicken soup and wrote the recipe down to have for later; when you were gone. I shoveled wet, sun-warmed snow from soggy walks and scraped the ice from the windows of our car. I mixed our records together and crossed out names. No longer mine and yours, now ours.

In June I took the summer things back out alone. Brushing away cobwebs gathered over winter, I unwrapped your work. I set it on the patio where for a day it stood folded in the sun, it’s wooden arms tucked safely into it’s sides, until I could see enough to open.

"Them"

2011-01-18T17:15:00.008-05:00

From the first moment we were physically near one another, it was like I had found that thing to fill the empty space beside me-a space I didn't even realize was there. Standing near him, barely minutes after we met, walking by his side, had the comfort of a deep hug. I quickly fell into sublimely comforting love.

He suffers from paranoia. I think he realizes this to a degree, but not enough to really do anything about it. To expect someone who thinks everyone around him is messed up and out to get him, to look that deeply inside and be able to see that they are really the one who needs help, is probably asking too much. But he has this heart. This sweet, tender, so giving heart, and an innocent, child-like quality that just wounds me in it's sincerity. But there is everything else. Between his alcoholism, paranoia and extreme (bizarre) defensiveness over the most unexpected things (he once told me he was more grown up than me because he lived in a house with a dog, and I only lived in an apartment with a cat), I felt sometimes like I was barely holding onto my own mind. And I could feel myself growing ever smaller as a person.

The last time I saw him he told me he didn't trust me. Basically that he thought I would turn on him and try to harm him in some way. He didn't want me in his house anymore when he wasn't there and one day he changed the locks on his doors. I can't say more about the last conversation we had that day, because it would be betraying a trust and there are a few lines I won't cross. I just know that with all the insanity up until that moment, that he finally did something I could not live with; he didn't trust me. I became one of "them" to him. Someone out to get him. And it was like in one of those movies (I think I've used this analogy before) where someone is standing and the camera shot pushes the back wall so far back that you can't reach it anymore, even though no one moved. And that's what happened in the car that day as we rode back to his house and I got in my car and drove away. Two feet away from each other, we couldn't even touch.

I texted him tonight because I have something at his house I need to get, and because deep down (not deep enough yet) I still crave any opportunity for contact. And so I asked him if he would be home Saturday so I could get my thing and he said he didn't know, but would leave the key. He would leave the key. "Why?" I asked. "Why now?", even though I think I already understood. "Just do it, okay", he wrote back. And because I believe there was so much more that he wanted to say but couldn't, when I closed the text I cried.

Men seeking men

2011-01-17T07:25:00.011-05:00

Mike left his Ipod touch in my couch. It must have fallen from his pocket that day he sat there shortly after we had broken up. Having shown little to no interest in our relationship till then, now that I was finally saying: "aannnnnd cut!", he suddenly wanted more. Outside the door to my apartment, on the carpet in the hall, he dropped to his knees and looked up at me: "Take me back," he said. "This doesn't feel right". I reached down and put my hands around his confused, little face. "Call me in a month if you still feel that way" I said, and shut the door.

I met Mike in a bar. I was hanging and chilling listening to the band that it turns out he was playing in. When he walked by my table he immediately caught my eye in that way that makes me go, Oh! and catch my breath a little. Outside later he seemed to be waiting for me and after we talked for a while, without my asking, he wrote down his name and number and asked me to call sometime. Two days later, when I made the first call, would be the beginning of a pathetic effort of mine to make the connection that he had initiated. Finally, after a few efforts and being blown off, I said "nay" to the game and went about my business. A few days later, like the miracle of the face of Jesus on a piece of toast he called; on his big boy own. He wanted to get together; oh lucky me! Dreams can come true.

So to make a very long story short, and save enough material for my next one, I met him and his-taped-together-with-blue-painters-tape-headphones downtown, and continued our game of cat and mouse. So eventually (yada, yada, yada) I realized that I was wasting my time, which brings us back to Mike in the hall on his knees and the discovery of his Ipod touch in my couch.

After calling him and telling him I had found his little pod, I set it on the table next to my bed and went about my business. A couple of hours later, lounging in my bed, I looked over at it and thought I'd check out his tunes. He had freely let me listen to it before so it didn't seem invasive to me at all, besides, everyone I know-including myself-freely shares their ipods with others. It seemed like an okay thing to do. Ipod touches are a little different from regular Ipods though, because they can access the internet. And so it was with the great big blank canvas of my mind, that I powered it up and found myself staring at a CraigsList ad. A personal ad; men looking for men. It took me a while to register this and then of course I started to pry (that's right: pry, not cry). I had been dating and sleeping with this man for a couple months now and felt like I kinda had a reason to know. I pulled up the history of the other sites he had recently visited on the net. I guess I was hopeing my original discovery was some freak anomally, but instead what I saw was page after page of men seeking men ads. I was a tad stunned.

Later when I brought his Ipod back to him I asked him: "hey uh, you don't have to answer this but . . . what's up with all the dudes?" He only paused for a second before he answered.

Hello, I'm back.

2011-01-15T15:55:00.004-05:00

Don't know if anyone is out there. Things are a little different now and I'm not sure exactly where I'm going to go with this, but somewhere. These last two years have been a ride, and a lot of it a pretty freaky one. I'm not making pots right now and thought about starting a new blog altogether, but I thought-hey-I've already got this one and so might as well carry on. I've got so much shit to write about you can not even believe. It's gonna blow your mind. If I had been writing all along, maybe it wouldn't have blown mine so much. This won't be for the faint of heart. I'm just gonna write real cause when I don't, I'm not real, and that just sucks. That's it for now. There's a lot swirling in my head right now and I'll let it out in a bit. See ya :)

Eeez pretty dang cold in the water ...

2010-01-31T14:10:00.003-05:00

I'm really out of touch with what's been going on with everyone's blogs. I almost never take the time to get online, despite my new computer. But, things have been good. Let's see...what is going on with me? Still working at the same job cooking, asked for a raise and got it so that makes it less painful every two weeks to see my checks. I finally went snowboarding for the first time this year last Sunday. Awesome day. Went to Shawnee Peak. Smallest mountain I've ever ridden but still a good day. I am trying to learn to surf. This is by far the most difficult physical thing I have ever tried to do. Unfortunately I just did pretty major damage to my board the other day, but until I can get it repaired my friend will let me borrow one of his boards. I'd like to say that I was on a knarly wave and wiped out, crashing my board into a reef or something, but I just dropped it onto the corner of my bookcase. It's 9'2" long so difficult to manuever. Oh well. It takes an enormous amount of upper body strength in the right places to surf and so on top of just getting out there and paddling I'm doing pushups and pullups. It's really helped with my popups (getting up on the board from laying to standing-supposed to be done in one "explosive" motion). I don't exactly explode yet but at least I don't do it like I'm pre-geriatric anymore. It's pretty cold so I have to wear a full wet suit, gloves, booties and hood. The coldest day I've gone out it was 26 degrees air, and about 43 degrees water temp. Invigorating! Well hopefully it won't be so long next time till I sign in. No potter yet, but it's rolling around in my mind. Someday.

Starsucks

2009-10-29T19:26:00.004-04:00

So tonight it's Starbucks. I hate coming in here. I feel a little like I'm selling a piece of my independent soul, and here in Portland, where supporting local independent business is like a religion I feel like I should have a hoodie with glasses on so no one sees me through the window. Problem is there was this big architecture gathering going on at the local shop I like across the street and too much chattering. So I'm slumming it here. The thing I hate about Starbucks is that they make it such an ordeal to get online. I mean this is a major company. It is doubtful that they are loosing too much money to freeloaders who just come in and suck the internet for free. I've never seen anyone sitting at their computer without some kind of beverage in hand in any of the other coffee shops that just let you hop right on. I think they want our personal info so they can attack us with their coffee propaganda. So what I do, out of spite, is give them a bogus phone number, my junk email address which I never check, and a fake name and address. My fake name is Autumn Woods, and my fake address is 1 Heaven St. Let that be our little secret.

Plastic snakes

2009-10-27T18:25:00.003-04:00

Oh my gosh. For the hell of it I thought I would check my blog again tonight. I am at NorthStar Music Cafe. They have internet, coffee, wine, beer and music. The five essentials of life. I was quite surprised-pleasantly so-to find that my last post had been read. Funny, when you think you are dead and gone. I actually have a clay related event to write about.

They are digging up some holes out back where I work and I go outside today and all around these holes are this damp, grey-ish dirt. I'm like: that's clay! So I scooped a little up, only about a tablespoon, went inside and after adding a few drops off water and smashing it together a bit had a piece of useable clay. It was surprisingly plastic. Could bend a snake in half without so much as a crack. I think I will photograph it tomorrow and put up a photo of the little pinch pot I made with it.

So the studio is officially in storage. The house finally sold about two months ago and my Aunt and Uncle were kind enough to let me store my stuff in a spot in their furniture factory (Allen-Richardson). Really great furniture. I think when they saw the six to eight foot high, 10x12-ish space my stuff occupied when they came into the shop the next day they were probably a bit surprised. I still need to buy them some booze to thank them. Well, I'm trying to do some research so should probably go. Great to hear from everyone.

Peanut butter crackers

2009-01-23T22:33:00.004-05:00

Wow. I'm not going to make it here. That is the long and short of the entire living with parents story. To say I am stressed does not begin to define my mental state at this time. I could get into details, but it just doesn't matter. I simply can not stay here for two months. I do not know what to do. I really appreciate all the good thoughts everyone has thrown my way, but there is just no good thinking my way out of this situation.

My mother and I are complete and total opposites in so many ways of our personalities that we are incompatible to live together. To be fair to her, it is probably not easy for her to share her house, and because of how stressed I am feeling about being here I have been very on edge and not always pleasant to be around. To be fair to me, she is way too intense for me. I really need a chill environment or I start imploding. If I can't get peace outside I gotta go in, and then when even that is invaded . . . I just can't describe what it is like to be slowly niced to death.

On a more positive note, I have to go back to NH tomorrow. Adam and I are bringing my daughter and grandson to see The Wizard of Oz and I will be there for a couple of days. I'm giddy just thinking about the tranquility. I've applied to about 30 places so far. I'll start checking back next week. Not so much luck so far. Everyone's been really nice so far though where I've gone. Very friendly. I'm having some trouble with the homeless situation though.

There are quite a few people who you can tell wander the streets by day until they can go to the shelters. It's very disturbing to me. They are usually so underdressed. Little cotton sneakers, no jackets, no hats. Sometimes they are mumbling to themselves. Here I am walking around or driving in my warm car and I'm wearing a wool coat, etc. with my nice warm boots. I feel kinda guilty. It will instantly suck whatever pleasure I am feeling at the moment away, and yet . . . I still walk by and ignore the woman on the corner when she starts asking me for money.

The other day I came around the corner and saw this guy pressed against the building trying to stay out of the wind. So I turned and walked back the other way so I wouldn't have to walk by him. What I really wanted to do was give him some peanut butter crackers or something. I guess turning around and walking away is the next best thing to crackers.

Day 1

2009-01-20T15:35:00.005-05:00

Well, first I want to say thankyou to everyone for all the good thoughts. It's definitely a messed up situation, and I am not the greatest at separating my public and private life, so hope it's not too awkward for anyone. I am here now, and after less than 24 hours know I have to get out soon. It's really hard for me, and I would imagine most, not to have my own space. I am also a bit of a minimalist, and my parents are kind of maximumalist, and so I am feeling a little claustrophobic. I am grateful for the space, but also know I can not last long here. I wish the room I am in were a sanctuary, and they did the best they could moving stuff out of it so I could move into it, but it's a bit like living in a tetris game where all the pieces are just barely separated, everything hits something else if you open it, and I keep hitting my feet on the stuff under the bed if I step too close to it. My mother, although well intentioned, keeps trying to pay for everything I need to buy. She even just offered to give me cash before I left. Just cash, in case I needed some cash. Eye-yi-yi. On the upside, I am sitting in a nice warm coffee house, after a chilly couple of hours humping for a job. I handed out about 15 resumes and will be back tomorrow to leave more. There are well over a hundred and fifty restaurants in the Portland area, at least I think, so lots of options, but limited hiring. It is a really great area though. I love the energy, and although I have left the mountains, I am less than 15 minutes from the ocean. But still, I keep thinking of Adam and often wishing he were here to share things with me. I do miss him. Oh well. Hopefully it's for the best, or else it's just another big mistake I've made in my life. Again, thank you everyone for reading and for being interested in what's going on.

Moving day

2009-01-19T09:13:00.003-05:00

Well, today is the day I have chosen to head down the road. It's kind of a sad day. I'll be back here next Sunday as Adam and I are taking my daughter Amy and my grandson Owen to see The Wizard of Oz (play). Yeah, it's all just really sad, but I think necessary. I think everyone will be happier in the long run. I guess there's not really much more to say.

Hot enchiladas, super cold air

2009-01-16T18:09:00.003-05:00

I keep reading about how cold it is for everyone. I don't really follow the weather too far outside my own area, so maybe it is really cold where you are, but let me tell you, it is really cold here! This morning it was -21 degrees below zero. About an hour and a 1/2 north of us it was -35 degrees below zero. Thank god the wind is not blowing. It would be unbearable. I am making a fantastic dinner tonight. It's almost ready. I thought I would surprise Adam with a meat meal since he has always so willingly eaten much vegetarian food with me, and so I am making beef enchiladas with a red chili sauce, black refried beans and rice. The individual components are yum, yum, yummy, I think we might drop dead from the deliciousness of the dinner itself.

Ready to move

2009-01-14T08:12:00.003-05:00

Well, I am mostly packed and ready to go. It's hard to live once you've packed. Even though I tried to keep stuff out that I thought I would need over the last week or so, I have had to reopen several boxes. Sadly/gladly, we have a showing of the house Friday, and so I will spend most of my energy moving the upstairs boxes down into my studio to get them out of the way. I am not very optimistic that anything fruitful will come of the showing, but you never know. My game plan is to head on down the road Monday. I am going to stay with my parents (mom and stepdad) for what could be a couple of months till I save up money for my own place. I have not lived with my parents since I was about 20. This could be challenging for all involved. I intend to live within a brief walk of downtown Portland Maine, and it is unlikely I will be able to afford a place of my own, and so might have to get a room mate. I have never had a room mate and so this will be a new experience. I also need to find a place/room mate that will allow a dog and cat. It's funny how many ads I have seen that say they have pets and so you must love dogs to live there, but, you can't bring your own. Eventually I'll find something.

Worm gears

2009-01-03T11:46:00.004-05:00

Here's a little project I have going on. I was making bread last week and heard something snap inside my mixer, and the mixer would not work after that. So, although I could really use a new larger and more powerful mixer, I am kind of attached to this one-I've had it for like 10-12 years or something. So I found the manual online and took it apart. No easy feat this is by the way. I thought I had snapped a belt but I actually broke a couple of gears.

Trying to keep my screws and such organized.

So here's the culprit. It is called the worm gear shaft and pinion. I mangled the top plastic gear (why is this the only plastic gear in there? Hmmm?) and actually snapped a couple of teeth off the smaller metal gear on the other end. All in all, does not make for a productive mixer. The part is only 25$ though, so that's good news. If I can get it all back together then I should be golden!

It was colder than a witch's you know what today

2009-01-01T23:33:00.004-05:00

I think I'm moving. It's a little overwhelming. The circumstances surrounding the move are emotionally difficult, and the prospect of moving my pottery shit into storage is an incredibly physically daunting task. I guess I am really preaching to the choir. Many of you are potters of course. Everything is just so heavy and space consuming. I'm thinking I should get heated storage because my kilns and pugmill and wheel will be in there. I am worried about subzero temperatures and the electronics. Part of me just wants to sell everything. I can certainly use the money, and am aware that with prolonged storage eventually I will cross a financial line where I have spent more storing my things than they are worth. But I know that if I sell I will never buy again, and that will be that. I honestly don't see myself being able to set up a studio again for several years. What to do. I've got to give everything some thought.

Some changes

2008-12-27T08:56:00.004-05:00

well I'm not sure how my blog is going to continue to fare/fair. I think, actually know, I am beginning to look for another full time job. I won't be able or willing to work a forty or more hour week and continue to make pots on any serious scale. My debts are just too high to ignore right now. I'm trying to take it in stride and just accept that they will be paid off someday, but it's making me feel a bit like I'm in a prison. between my operation and charging a lot of pottery supplies it's really added up. Plus, without getting into any detail, I need to start saving some money for a move and the possible need to support myself. so, since this is a pottery blog, I'm not sure how much pottery I will be making to be blogging about. Who knows, maybe I will feel compelled to come home after working in a hot sweaty kitchen all day or night and toil in the dark damp basement. Hmm, I'll keep you posted (see that pun?)

Stuck in Chicago

2008-12-22T19:25:00.005-05:00

some trinkets from a trip to Continental Clay?? (I can't remember the name-in Santa Monica I think)

Well I'm back in New Hampshire. We just got a load of snow dumped on us. The trip was nice, but it's also good to be home again. Long trip back though. I had to change planes in Chicago. I was supposed to have a two hour layover, but the plane was delayed from NY, and about five minutes after I arrived (looking like all that and then some in a new brown coat and suede boots-but that's another story) I found out that my flight, which was supposed to take off at about 6:50 p.m., wasn't even due to arrive there until 10:30. Since I arrived around 4:30ish, that meant I had around 6 hours to kill.

So after roaming around the small portion of the airport I was trapped in, trying to balance my guitar-a 1976 old Guild my father let me have which hadn't seen the light of day outside it's case in over a decade-on my rolling backpack, stumbling around on my new boots, I finally found a seat in a pub, ordered a glass of red wine, which I soon regretted as I became sleepy and got a headache, ordered a bowl of mediocre chili and killed like 45 minutes. Only five hours left to go and things were not looking good. I bought The Appeal, by John Grisham and did my best to get lost in it and and accept my fate. In another life, and if I were a little smarter, I might have been a lawyer.

Eventually the time went by and I got on the plane. We rapid-fire boarded and I was fortunate enough to have an old charming gentleman sit next to me who reeked of alcohol and had the gelatinous veined eyes of a career drinker. I was torn between genuinely liking this man, and being horrified by being trapped next to him for two hours. He talked to me non-stop, loud, animated, bouncy and rude. When I came back from the bathroom, he said to me: "well I can see everything must have come out all right!" He expressed himself at length about different colors of pee based on how much water you drink, told me that he could tell I was a white woman from central NH based on my political views, and commented on the nice breasts of the woman on the t.v. monitor. I felt elated when the plane finally landed.

Fifty-eight degrees and 58$

2008-12-14T18:16:00.004-05:00

I know I already posted today, but I just got back from a craft fair in Laguna called, Sawdust. I'm walking around in a t-shirt and jeans thinking I'm completely normal, and I look around and everyone is wearing sweaters, or some form of an actual winter coat. Some warmed their chilly little necks with scarves. I didn't realize it was cold out until people started telling me. No fewer than five people asked me how I could stand being in a t-shirt. Wasn't I freezing? So I kept telling them I'm from New Hampshire, which seemed to help them understand, but one person finally says to me, well okay. But that doesn't change the fact that it's 58 degrees out. I'm just like . . . uhm, that seems pretty warm to me. Fifty-eight degrees? Are they kidding? I don't even think we pull our winter jackets out until it gets down in the high thirties.

So this was a little shocking. Pottery is not, at least in this area, valued the same as it is on the East Coast. Stunned is the best word to describe my reaction to the prices. You'd have to have seen it to believe it. I finally had a conversation with this one pottter and we talked about it. She said most potters who do mainly functional work don't do well there. That the things that sell the best are things that will be used for decoration. The first pot I picked up and saw the price of was a ten dollar coffee mug. This is at a relatively high end craft fair. Large Raku pots with lids and such, around 58$. Crystalline pots, with cut altered rims for around 18$. I could go on and on. I just could not believe it. So I guess those of us who live on the East Coast have a new reason to appreciate our area. A lower cost of living, and we can sell our work for more. That's not to say I haven't walked into a couple of "art" galleries and seen way overpriced pots, but for the average gal selling the average type pot, I think I'm in a better place.

Thinking of warm and fuzzy things

2008-12-14T10:43:00.006-05:00

Hello everybody. Still in sometimes sunny California. I heard the East had a fantastic ice storm. Adam's boss put them up in a hotel room so they wouldn't have to drive home (it's an hour drive down curvy back roads on a sunny day). He said all the trees are coated in glass. Nothing is coated in glass here. Although . . . there is the strange to me happening of wrapping Christmas lights around palm trees. I'm used to seeing lights going everywhere, snaking all over branches of real, you know, trees? It's kind of like someone wrapped lights around a paper towel roll and stuck some fluffy stuff on top. It's uh, interesting.

So I neglected to mention that the house where my father lives is on the beach. Here are a few shots from the back window. Oh the misery of it all. He keeps saying that he's going to sell the house, but he's been saying that for years. One of these days perhaps and who knows, this could be my last visit with an ocean in the backyard. I am missing my home though. Not my physical home, although it will be nice to be back in my own environment. But I think I am just a New England girl at heart. This is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't . . . oh, you know how that goes. It will be nice to see people in down jackets and some North Face gear. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it.

Once there was a dead girl

2008-12-10T19:35:00.006-05:00

This is the first time I have logged into my blog or checked anyone elses posts in a few days. Just hanging around being lazy most of the time. I watched this great movie last night. It's about this singer, Glen something, and him getting started out. You'd recognize his music if you heard it. It's an Indie film, oh, it's called Once. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. The movie won best song at the Oscars. That song that goes "I don't know you, but I want you, something something something something something ..." that might not be enough info. Watch the movie and you'll see. I rewatched The Dead Girl. Another film I highly recommend if you haven't seen it. It's strange having such a temp difference. When we left the house at the awful hour of 5:30 a.m. Monday it was 3 degrees below zero with a 16 degree below zero windchill. today I'm laying on a chair and I had to pull it out of the sun cause it was scorching hot. Oh, funny story. I touched down in Long Beach at 3 p.m. Pacific time-about a half hour early, so I call my father to tell him and he's like, "you're here? you're kidding. I thought you were coming tomorrow! I'm on my way!" really good thing I called or I might have been waiting a while. One more thing before I go. There is a yoga studio about a five minute walk from the house called YogaWorks. For thirty dollars I got an introductory pass that is good for two weeks of unlimited classes. They have like at least ten classes of different yoga classes of different kinds every day. I've already gone three times. My muscles are a little sore but it's been great. I've had three different teachers so far so it's really cool getting to experience all these different teaching styles. Mentally I'm feeling a little dead. Woke up a lot last night. The previous night I slept for seven hours straight. I felt like I was on speed the next day I felt so rested. It's always so strange not to feel tired. Hope everyone is well. Long post, time to go.

Grease and griping

2008-12-05T10:29:00.002-05:00

So this was a bit of fortuitous luck that brought this problem to my attention. I had been testing these baking pieces. I heated them in the oven to around 475 and let them cool. Then I froze them for a few hours and then popped them frozen into a 475 degree oven again. I wanted to see what kind of crazing or cracking issues might arrise. Turned out none. But I had left them sitting on top of my stove while I did some kind of frying and the insides got all greasy. A couple of days later I look and this is what I see. Grease has seeped into several of the pinholes and created this grease stain under the glaze. I think it is safe to say it is never going away, and obviously raises a huge problem. I'm a little surprised because this clay is really tight at cone 6 and I wouldn't expect it to absorb oil like this. Although, it just occurred to me, that it likely is not the clay absorbing the oil-but-you guessed it-the white slip under the glaze. Eureka. I think I just solved my riddle. But it's still a problem. I obviously need to eliminate the pinholing and crazing completely, or change the liner glaze. If I find an opaque blue similar to this one that I can apply directly to the clay without slipping that would save a step and maybe eliminate this problem. The other blue I was using-the turquoise-is not a candidate because any dribbling on the outside, even after being wiped off, resists glaze, so when I dip the outside, whereverI had wiped off the turquoise the glaze is noticably thinner. In other news, I am in the middle of another bought of insomnia. A few days now. I am very, very tired. If you fall asleep and most importantly, stay asleep every night, you don't know how lucky you are. My life really is a form of insomnia. I am lucky if I ever sleep for more than an hour or two without waking up. All night long, every night of my life. Over, and over again. I wonder if there is some kind of disability claim for this, because it really does begin to render you useless during the day after a while. I can't think straight. It's like everything I see and hear is moving through thick mud before it reaches my brain. And then it has to move through that thick mud again for me to process it and respond to it. So I get on this horrible cycle. I start drinking more caffeine to try and wake up, then I still can't sleep at night even though I am DEAD tired, and so I take a sleeping pill, which, by the way, does not keep me asleep all night. I still wake up at least three times on a sleeping pill. Okay, this is turning into a pity fest.

Sugar free squiggles

2008-12-03T19:47:00.004-05:00

So. I am about to tell you a gross story. Well, it's not really gross-it's just something that most people would not talk about in polite company. That's why I am going to tell you. First let me tell you about this little picture here. I had stretched this canvas a while back for my son to paint on, and after he showed no interest it sat around for a while until one day, last year, when I threw some black and white paint on it and spread it around. I also laid some paper towels on in for texture. I wouldn't exactly say it was successful, but I wasn't really done. It's just been in the basement for a while, and I've been watching some shows about getting your house ready for sale-we're putting ours back on the market-and I am trying to completely unclutter it and fix any eyesore areas. This story is becoming too long and you will loose interest before I get to the gross story, so, to cut to the end, I needed something kinda like art for an area and so I dug this out, took a wide sharpie and drew squiggles. While I wouldn't exactly call it high art, it does look kinda cool on the wall. I had to take it down temporarily because I am painting the wall behind it the grey that you can see.

So. You might want to stop reading now. If you have any warm fuzzy feelings about me this will surely ruin them. I ran out of paint and so had to go to the store and get more. Earlier in the day I had gone to the store and bought some candy. I can't really eat sugar-it bothers my stomach really badly-I burp puke/bile, whatever you want to call it. Throw in a beer on that and it's like I have fire in my belly. So, once in a great while I buy some sugarfree candy. I know I should only eat two or three of them, because, like it says on the package: overconsumption can have a laxative effect. I ate the whole package. That is about twelve pieces. I know. I have no self control, that is another story altogether. No one was at the paint department and so I went to jewlrey and had them page someone. Three pages later someone finally arrives. By the time she mixed the paint, found a pen that worked, got her little q-tip out to do her test smudge, and pulled the blowdryer out to dry the paint to check for color corectness I was a little worried. I was standing there all cool and collected on the outside, acting like I could wait all night for the paint to dry. To say I wanted to leave quickly would be putting it gently. Suffice it to say all is well, but please take my advice and do not ever eat twelve pieces of sugar free candy. Ever.

Lots of pictures

2008-12-02T08:38:00.005-05:00

Okey Doke. I've got a lot of photos up here. Some for good reasons, some for bad. The creamyish glaze above, although not awful, I have decided I find a little boring. Adam says he thinks it might sell well though-to those people who kind of want things that blend in easily with their home decors. If they do, I might make more at least to run this glaze out. But they don't get me excited.

This platter came out really nice-except-if you blow it up you can see some considerable pinholing. that is the problem of the day. Pinholing. I think I may know why though. since I put the slip onto bisque, although I have managed to keep it from cracking and splitting, I still think it is shrinking enough in some parts to create little tiny fissures. some of the pinholes have little tiny linesrunnying from them which leads me to this theory. so, I am slipping all my work in the greenware state now. I will have to spray the larger pieces for now. I can't imagine holding them withought breaking them and trying to keep slip from getting on the outside. It's a big problem because this clay is HEAVILY grogged and so any wiping on the raw ware exposes a very rough surface.

I dipped a lot of the pieces aka Ayumi Horie and Ron Philbeck style. I've always felt I had to create this pristine finish, but the finger mark, and sort of record of the process has begun to grow on me and I kind of like it.

So more beads I made last night. I keep getting a lot of comments about making more, so maybe I should listen. If I'm going to be sitting there watching Futurama (yah I did last night) and the Colbert Report, I might as well make a little money at the same time.

Here is one of my salsa/dip bowls.

A photo of some of the spread. I have a considerable amount of work that I consider sellable-even the boring unexciting creamy stuff. I gotta get it out to the galleries.

My little test cups all trimmed and slipped. Often I use standing tiles, but when I am really testing hardcore-like I need to know how this stuff will look and fuction on a pot-I usually try to put the glazes on little pots. I've got a bunch of tall coffee mugs and ice coffee/ice tea tumblers in the back.

This was a nice surprise. It is a new test glaze I tried. I am looking forward to trying this out on several more test pots to see how consistent it is, and what kind of variation I can get. It looks really nice with the blue, and has a kind of earthy, manyly look to it. It's all about pleasing the men.

Di-saur Moomi

2008-11-29T19:16:00.002-05:00

I'm having some crazing problems with the blue glaze I've been using on the inside of my pots. It's not severe, and sometimes not there at all, but just the fact that there are a few tells me it's a problem I have to deal with. So, my first line of attack is to alter the glaze a little. The original recipe calls for Soda Feldspar, so I made a test with Custer Feldspar, and Nepheline Syenite. I then made a test with the original recipe, increasing the Silica by five percent in three increments. I then did the same using the Custer substitute and the Neph Sye substitute. If the crazing isn't too bad, it is my understanding that an increase in Silica may solve the problem. Of course, I need for the problem to be solved without significantly changing the appearance of the glaze, which I happen to like. So I threw some test cups today and we'll see. I personnally am not overly concerned with a few random craze lines, but I can just hear the same question being asked over and over again by customers about it. In theory it could mean the pot is weakened as well, so might be good to deal with for that reason. I am typing with my grandson on my lap so kind of hard to focus my thoughts. I just put in Ghostbusters for him, and he's holding Jurassic Park going "dinosaur movie, dinosaur movie" (he's actually saying Di-saur moomi). Well, chow for now.

Latte lunatics

2008-11-28T11:02:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting at the coffee shop. I had to come and get a lb. of coffee for Adam and ordered a coffee for me. I am one of those people who has a very long order-and I want what I order. Unfortunately, I often don't get it, and will just drink it grudgingly. Today is not one of those days. What I ordered was: a double decafinated soy cappacinno (spell?). What I got was a raging hot latte-that is usually the offense-I receive a latte instead of a cap. To me this is a huge difference. I do not like lattes. I like a strong, bitter cappacinno. I'm not a fan of milk-although I do love my cheese. So, I have to stand there-like some militant-so I can correct several mistakes along the way. The first is that they often grab the regular coffee instead of decaf. Second is using regular milk (like today) and the third is making me a latte. The last mistake is hard to catch though until the heavy cup is placed into my hand. Today I asked for a remake and when she placed that light as air cup into my hand and I took a sip of it's bitterness I was at last happy-except I don't know if it's decaf ... yet. Oh, here's a little bead I put on a cord. I took off my hope bead and put this on instead. Hope is overrated. Just kidding.

Thanksgiving chicken

2008-11-27T09:25:00.003-05:00

Well it's Thanksgiving. I will be spending some of the day glazing. I don't want to make the three hour drive to where some of my family is getting together and so opted out, Adam is working until five or six and the kids have gone elsewhere. I had already ordered a very expensive free range turkey thinking we might be doing a dinner here, so I popped it in the freezer for Christmas instead. Who wants turkey twice in a month anyway? I am making a tiny dinner for tonight though. I got a very expensive (like how I always throw that in) free range chicken and am making pumpkin pie, chicken, home made stuffing, gravy and rice for dinner. I am too lazy to peel potatoes.

Yesterday I made bread. I try and make all our bread now. I've had the same sourdough starter going for some time now. Anyway, I put the loaves in the oven and promptly forgot they were there until I came upstairs sometime later for a drink. They were a tad overdone. Amazingly though they still taste good, and after some amount of effort in getting the nuclear charred crusts off I have plenty of bread cubes for my stuffing, so it worked out after all.

My pots up above are slipped and glaze lined. Just drying overnight so I can glaze the outside. I made a bunch more mugs. I wish you all could feel how these cups fit in your hand. The handles really are awesome. It's like an extension of your hand. I made a new stamp to sign my pots. Since I may be glazing so simply now, I thought it might add a touch of visual interest. I've always liked signature stamps. Well, that's enough of that nonsense. Everyone enjoy your turkeys and vegetarian loaves.

Kalifornia and Kashmir

2008-11-24T07:33:00.004-05:00

I'm very happy with the results from this second test firing. I didn't get as much variation as I had hoped for, but I think that's a result of the glaze still being a little too thick, and the slip I sprayed not being thick enough. One more test and then I'm doing a large firing. There was one cup that had some variation and Adam said it was his favorite because of the variation, so I think I'll be onto something once I get the hang of it. The photos look a lot flatter and uniform in color than the pots do in person. This cup below is another glaze I have that I have a full five gallon bucket of but haven't been using much, so I thought I'd test it out as well and I think it looks really nice. Great interaction between the liner and the exterior glaze. Well-I picked Adam up from the airport yesterday. I had been flying solo since Thursday. He flew out of Boston so it was a long drive to bring him and pick him up, but it's nice to get out of the area sometimes. He was in North Carolina somewhere. Can't remember the city. I know he flew into Washington/Dulles. Oh my god, the best part of the drive yesterday was that on channel 33-the bridge-on Sirius they were playing all Led Zeppelin. I listened to it for four hours. I'll be flying out of Boston myself in about two weeks. I'll be going to sunny, southern California . Even if it's not sunny, it should be a lot warmer than it's been around here lately. Brrr-it's been windy and #$!#& cold.

No name post 2

2008-11-22T09:13:00.004-05:00

So I did another test firing. This one I poured the slip into the bisqued cups. I need to find out if this is doable since I have a bit of bisque. I filled the cups up with water first to premoisten the cups. I was hoping for less cracking that way. Overall it worked well. Only a few of them have small cracks in the slip. I think I will thin the slip a little and premoisten a little more. Glazing these was so stress free. It was nice for a change. I need to get a regular firing done and some of this work out to the shops to see if it sells. I am worried they might be potters pots, as the saying goes. Experimenting a little with the glaze thickness. They are a little darker and towards orangy with a thinner application-which I like. Also, the glaze goes very orange over the white slip, so need to check that out. I am going to try spraying some slip on the outside of the next tests in a random, uneven way to see if it makes the outside more interesting. Below are a few beads I squeezed into the firing. I wear this bead, shaped like the long oval ones below that sais HOPE and I macramed it onto some cord. I get sooo many compliments and two offers to buy it off my neck, so thought I might try and make some to sell. Later gaters.

K.I.S.S.

2008-11-19T21:06:00.004-05:00

So I'm off on another idea. Not sure how it's going to work out, but I'm going to do a couple of tests and see where it goes. I am disillusioned with the work I've been doing. Way too high of a failure rate and too many results I just don't like. I'm just not willing to invest the time into work that I am so often unhappy with. While I know there is always going to be some uncertainty and risk involved, I at least think I'd like to drive wearing a seat belt. So, I am making an effort to simplify things. This cup is a little washed out in the photo, but gives an idea of where I am heading. When I begin my next round of pots I might try and add some texture of some kind to the outside for the glaze to pick up. Keepin it very simple. Two glazes (this cup is two) Maybe three max if it keeps it simple with a little bumping up. It's been fun trying different things, but too much going on. Don't try and talk me down, cause I'm not coming off the ledge.

Bakasana

2008-11-17T12:41:00.003-05:00

I don't know if this is going to work. I don't know how to compress video. Maybe I need to film it compressed or with lower resolution. Anyway ... this is a pose I am working on. It is called Bakasana, or Crane pose. I'm not exactly good at it yet but I am noticeably stronger in it and have much better balance. I find that arm balances are some of my favorite poses, so I imagine I will focus on them a lot. Well, let's give it a shot shall we and see if it plays.

Crack!!

2008-11-15T16:01:00.007-05:00

Well, my two low stonepools have developed s-cracks on the inside. Bummer. I kinda liked them. Sooo hard to keep the faith sometimes. Working for free is not my thing. Speaking of working. I'm thinking about getting another job for a while. I need some money. Absolutely sick of not having any and would like to be able to be a little more self-reliant. I answered this ad for this production pottery in Dover. I should have checked the map first, cause it's an hour 1/2 drive from here. He said it pays really well though. The company is like 30 years old or something. Salmon Falls. I used to have a little soap pump of theirs. We'll see. Gotta go pick up the little gran-boy soon. I am noticeably improved in health today. Just a lot more of hacking up of unmentionables. I got into my studio but used the time to finish insulating. God I hate doing that. But at least it's done now. I kinda like this posting without photos thing, but, I will put some up when I have some new work. I think we're going to see the new James Bond flick tomorrow. Always good to have something to look forward to in my wretched life ... just kidding ... kind of.

Ladies and Germs

2008-11-14T12:36:00.009-05:00

"All religions are the same: religion is basically guilt, with different holidays"-Cathy Ladman

I'll get back to that funny quote in a sec. Blah-so I'm up and sort of about. I feel very lightheaded when vertical so don't feel comfortable spending much time that way. But, I made myself get out of my sick bed today, wash the sick sheets, and put real clothes on. I am actually sitting on the couch as I type this. I've gone into my studio a couple of times and it just feels like this cold, alien environment. Not hospitable to my life form at the moment. So, I've been reading this book for about a year now. Put it down for a while and so re-read from the beginning again. It is really hard for me to absorb as it's written by a very intelligent person, with the assumption that those reading it are highly intelligent, but I am giving it my best shot. Some of you may wish to cover your eyes for a moment. The book is, The God Dellusion, by Richard Dawkins. It's quite interesting, if difficult to absorb. I actually brought it up in relation to my cold, and not religion.

I recently responded to some comments on my last post, that I wonder if now that I have the luxury of being sick and laying around, if that is good or bad for the cold. I know that I seem to stay sicker longer now than I used to. Some of this may just be age, but I do wonder about the effect of just lying there, letting the germs have a party in your body. Lo and behold, a few minutes ago I read this line in the book which I thought was appropro (spell and definition?I'll try and check on it). The line is in the context of a discussion in the chapter in which Dawkins is considering how religion could be seen as having any evolutionary benefit for humans. So, I will quote from there.

"Dan Dennett reminds us that the common cold is universal to all human peoples in much the same way as religion is, yet we would not want to suggest that colds benefit us. Plenty of examples are known of animals manipulated into behaving in such a way as to benefit the transmission of a parasite to its next host ... an animals behavior tends to maximize the survival of the genes "for" that that behavior, whether or not those genes happen to be in the body of the particular animal performing it."

So this brings me right back around to my comment this morning. I don't know the answer, but the question is this: who or what is benefiting from my laying there? Is this a response of my body's immune system trying to conserve energy and resources to fight off this parasite or is it the parasite who disables my body so as to be able to inhabit it more fully and therefor pass itself on to it's next host? Same can be said about sneezing or coughing. Is it the host trying to rid itself of the parasite or a mechanism used by the parasite (virus) to spread itself? All very fascinating food for thought.

Liquid Chocolate . . . kind of

2008-11-12T16:27:00.004-05:00

This might be one of the most significant posts I've ever put up. You have to try this tea. Still stuck in bed. I guess stuck may not be the most accurate word. I could get up and work but I would be miserable. Woke up this morning at 8:30. After a couple of cups of tea (so far: Orange Dulce, Chocolate Mint and Amazon Citrus or something like that). I'm so dehydrated! I can't seem to get enough to drink. Anyway, after hanging out and drinking for a while I looked at the clock and it was 10:30 and I was just like who cares. I know when I am really not feeling up to anything when watching brainless stuff on t.v. becomes appealing. That's not usually too much like me. It's too challenging to process anything much more complex than that. So anyhow. I tried to photograph the tea Space Odyssey style but couldn't really get the perspective I wanted. Well, hopefully tomorrow there will be potting.

Sniffles and Sneakers

2008-11-11T13:35:00.004-05:00

Well, I just want to thank everyone who left a comment on my last post. I feel really lucky to have such great virtual friends. Thanks to everyone else for your encouraging words on other days and those who just take the time to read what I put up every day. I took Jeff's advice, put on several layers, my sneakers and went for a ride. A no pressure ride. Threw my backpack on my shoulders, headed to the grocery store for tea and napkins. My next stop was the local healthfood store where I put in my order for a free range turkey for Thanksgiving. Then I stopped at the coffee shop and enjoyed a nice tepid cup of chai tea. So I got a little exercise and had a little guilt free R&R. I'm not well though. Headache, sniffles, sneezes and sore throat. Not exactly helping my energy level. But I HAVE to trim some bowls I threw the other day and unload my bisque, wipe it down and wax it. If I can accomplish those two goals then I will deem my workday successful. This morning when I woke up I was in bad shape and instantly ruled out my yoga tonight, but I think I'm feeling up to it now; plus I think it will be good for my cold and mind.

Oh, about these pots. These two pieces were in my scrap pile for at least a year. I went digging through the piles this summer and came across them. I originally hated them. I had a preconceived idea of what they were supposed to look like. I slipped the pots so this "celadon" I use would look blue against the white of the slip. They came out blotchy and drippy and rough looking. When I saw them this time, I saw them in a different light. So it's got me thinking about revisiting this idea. Oh, the M stamp on the side is because I originally called my pottery Mad Mud Pottery. I still can't settle on what I should name it, or if I even should. I maybe should just be Deborah Woods Pottery. Who knows.

Feel like I'm stuck in a jar

2008-11-10T23:29:00.003-05:00

I've been not feeling very talkative lately. Life is a downer sometimes. I have no idea if I ever put this photo up before-I don't think I did. From one of my last firings. Let's see, what's going on with me? I recently got older. Some friends threw me an impromptu party which was really nice and a lot of fun. I got a little hammered. I had to have Adam come pick me up after work. I think he was actually in bed by then. Oh well. At least I didn't drive. What else? I'll be going on a trip in about a month. Going to visit the old man. I'll be gone for about 9 days. I need a break from my surroundings. The walls are closing in.

Cupcake Obama

2008-11-07T17:57:00.003-05:00

This is pretty cool. It's made with over a thousand cupcakes. I follow this blog called cakewrecks. You see some pretty awful stuff on there, and occasionally something pretty spectacular.

Chirp, chirp, chirp

2008-11-06T09:25:00.002-05:00

Hmmm. I thought I'd try this new format of posting photos, but it didn't quite work the way I thought it would. How does this qualify as

left? Oh well. Here are my stonepools, pretty much finished. Now they have to dry and all that jazz. Maybe within a month they will be done? I bet they'll take a month to dry actually, so probably longer. It was hard making birds at first, but I finally started to get the hang of it. I actually went to the pet store and stared at the birds for like fifteen minutes. That helped quite a bit actually. Well, the prodigal son returns today. I don't know if he's actually prodigal, I'd have to look it up to know if I used the word correctly, but it has a nice ring to it. He is coming back by bus and assuming he didn't sleep through his last transfer in NY, I should be meeting him in Concord today at 2:30. It will be nice to see him. It's been about six months he's been gone. Chow for now.

2008-11-05T22:17:00.002-05:00

Yikes. Two steps forward, one step back. I just wish we could follow our own

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/us/politics/06marriage.html?ref=politics

Proud to be an American

2008-11-05T07:40:00.015-05:00

OBAMA!

Awesome, awesome, awesome. What a moment. I hope whether or not you supported him that you can find some joy in the significance of this moment. This is hugely historical and says a lot about our country and it's people to ourselves, and to the rest of the world. I was really moved watching the joy of total strangers, and I just can't imagine the pride that blacks must have felt-and feel. It must feel like a whole new world. I know it does to me. I don't know. I know all the problems we have gotten ourselves into, and the terrible image we have become to the rest of the world will not disppear overnight, but it truly does feel to me like disinfectant has doused our country. It feels renewed and fresh, and I feel very proud.

On another note. I need some help. I have been considering for some time now, getting my MFA. I am doing my research to find schools to consider, but I would really appreciate you throwing some names my way. Especially if you have heard good things about the school, and doubly especially if they operate in a way that they wave tuition for their grad students. I'm probably too late for spring, although, you never know, but I can definitely make fall if I move now. Thank you, and CONGRATULATIONS AMERICA!!!!!!!!!
(sorry for the big print, but I can't get it small)

Jesus ate cookies too

2008-11-01T07:26:00.008-04:00

This is outrageous. Guess what happened at a school somewhere yesterday? A kid was sent home from school for dressing up like Jesus. It's not like he just showed up one day like that. I can see a legitamite issue with that. But it was Halloween, and EVERYONE was dressed up. The school "official" that they interviewed was dressed like a little cowboy-bang-bang. She told the camera that his costume was distracting to education.

Now, I am not a religious person. I am, quite contentedly, rather agnostic. I have no desire to be saved again (yes I've been down that scary road before) so please, no prayers for me after this declaration. I am also a HUGE believer in separation of church and state. The idea of teaching "intelligent design" in the science room is as preposterous as churches being forced to teach evolution in Sunday school.

Should a child be allowed to stand in the cafeteria at lunchtime preaching the gospel and casting out demons from the kids? I really don't think so, anymore than I should be tolerated doing that at work. Should they be allowed to wear a crucifix around their necks? Of course. If they are given a writing assignment with the subject of who is my favorite person should they be allowed to write about Jesus? Sure. There are probably a lot of grey areas, and a lot that are likely to be agreed on as being black and white. But I just think telling this kid to go home because his costume was "distracting" is outrageous and makes me really angry. What next?

NO COOKIE MONSTERS! They are distracting because they make kids think of cookies when they should be thinking of math!

NO DRACULAS! This is one violent dude!

AND PIRATES? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Look what carnage they have created upon our beautiful seas! Dressing up as a pirate is celebrating theft! I personally find that very distracting.

This one is just plain cute. BUT IT COULD BE DISTRACTING BECAUSE IT WILL REMIND ALL THE OTHER KIDS HOW LESS CLEVER THEY WERE WITH THEIR COSTUMES!

Now when my kids were little there was a rule about excessively violent and bloody costumes at school. No bloody eyeballs hanging out, no one carrying decapitated heads etc... I could kind of accept that, although it did have the effect of cutinizing the day to the extreme. I mean how many princesses and kittens can one really take?

This thing with Jesus is just wrong. I wonder if they sent home all the little boys dressed up like devils? What if someone dressed up as the Flying Spagetti Monster? Where does it end? I don't need Jesus in my heart to feel this is really wrong.

Caramel Corn

2008-10-30T21:00:00.003-04:00

Here is the progress of my CRAZY stonepool. I had to give it a break to firm up a little, and started another one. Still working on the three large ones actually. Below are a few shots of the texture I put on the shorter, more stone-like ones.

Man, even though I think a majority of the anchors on Fox News are nutjobs, I still watch quite a bit. I flip back and forth between MSNBC, CNN, and Fox News. It's always good to understand where your-I'm not sure what word to use, opposition?-is coming from. If you just immerse yourself in sources that mirror your own opinion, I think you run the risk of becoming pretty one dimensional. But man, I was just watching Anne Coultier (I know I spelled that wrong). That is a nutcase in the nth degree. She is one hostile, narrow-minded person. I actually tried reading a book of hers once and I could only get through a few chapters. It was just like this paranoid, lunatic ranting.

So, on a more tasty note, I have decided to share a recipe with you. You can't blame me though if you put on five pounds. Don't just file it away, thinking someday you might try it. Make it soon. You will be glad, or mad at me, that you did.

CARAMEL CORN

12 cups popped corn
2 cups peanuts
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter (REAL butter, not margarine)
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda

Preheat oven to 200 degrees. Grease a sheet pan. Put popcorn and nuts in a bowl large enough to be able to stir everything really well. Melt butter in a saucepan with high sides, add brown sugar and corn syrup. Cook for about five minutes, or until sugar is dissolved. Once sugar is dissolved, add salt and baking soda. This is why you need a pan with high sides. The mixture is going to get all foamy, light and thick. Mix it well and pour over popcorn and nuts. Stir really well. Put on sheet pan and bake for one hour, stirring every fifteen minutes. It is important to bake this, because that is when it will become crispy. Otherwise, you will have chewy, sticky popcorn.

Wine down Wednesdays

2008-10-29T17:29:00.004-04:00

Here's a couple of pictures from Sunday of actually being in the corn maze. If you don't have them where you are, they are mazes that are cut, or grown into cornfields. If you see them from above they are very precise and intricate. This one had a pumpkin, a tractor, and some other shapes included in the maze. I can only assume that they can get this precise using GPS or something.

Little bugger taking a shortcut. Sometimes the shortcuts were a little too tight for us and we had to call him back.

When we got to intersections I would ask, "which way?" and he would raise his hand and say in some language that we never did translate which way he wanted to go. We just had to rely on his pointing hand. He was trying to say something though cause it was the same thing every time. I am working on my CRAZY stonepool today. I finally am getting a feel for putting texture on the stone-like ones as well. I'll take a couple of close ups tomorrow.

Oh, I almost forgot. This reason this post is titled, Wine down Wednesdays, is because our local Pub/Spa/Yoga Place/Inn has half price bottles of wine on Wednesday nights, and Adam is home early tonight and so we are going to get some 1/2 price wine and an app. A bottle of wine for 12$ I can deal with that.

Thirsty little bird

2008-10-28T20:52:00.002-04:00

Here is as far as I got before I had to leave. The little bird is like a 60 second bird, but I wanted it in the photo for effect, I am planning to put one on the top. Still got a little work to do, but I really like this. I already have another idea for my next one. It will be CRAZY!

My grandson is so cute, when he's not being a little shit

2008-10-28T16:37:00.003-04:00

We had my grandson Saturday night till Sunday night. did a lot of stuff. One of them was to go to a farm where they have a corn maze. I don't know if everyone knows what they are, but farmers clear patterns in the corn and you walk around and then try and find your way out. I guess I should have posted a picture of him walking in the corn, but this was so cute I couldn't resist. Went to the park, got pizza at Papa Ginos, got him a turtle costume for Halloween. Pretty groovy day.

This is a new stonepool I am working on. It will be two feet tall, since that is the max height I can fire in one piece.

It's hard to see, but I'm trying to build up texture on this one.

This texture is looking cool, but I've decided from looking at this photo, that it's not what I want for the shorter, rounder ones. They remind me of stones and this is more bark-like. so I will work on that. I put some white slip in the center of this one cause the blue glaze really pops on the white and I thought I'd try a little blue in the center, like water.

Here's my little shop buddy. I call him Lava. He keeps me from getting too lonely. I have a bunch more I'd like to write, but my dinner break is over and since I want to go to Yoga tonight at 6:30 I gotta boogie down to my studio to keep working.

Stonepools

2008-10-26T10:07:00.002-04:00

Here are two of the bird basins I am working on. I had a third but did some stupid stuff with it and decided to trash it. My idea currently is that they sit on the ground in your garden somewhere, and they can either fill with rain, or you can put water in them, and it is kind of like a stone that has water collected in it. I might put a little bird on the edge of some of them. I am thinking about texture and whatnot. I'm also going to make some that resemble logs. I have had these ideas for a long time now and am glad I am finally trying them. I'm thinking about calling them Stonepools. If anyone has a better idea for a name to market them with, I would be very open to hearing them.

2008-10-24T19:28:00.006-04:00

Well, I have this potter whose work I greatly admire. His name is Jeff Martin, and if you haven't already checked his stuff out you can do so here. He put up a photo of this mug about a month ago, and although I really couldn't afford it, it kinda grabbed me, and so after asking Adam if he thought it was alright (a detestable state to be in, not to have one's own money) I told Jeff I thought his mug had found a new home.

It's a great size. A large cup of coffee or tea, and definitely roomy enough for a brew as well. So thanks Jeff!

I kind of have these next photos upside down, but they are bird bath basins I am working on. I want to make them look like stones or pieces of wood or something. We'll see how it goes. I'm not sure I'm approaching it the right way, but I'll learn as I go.

Here's another one. I'm working on two at a time.

These are the coils I used to build up the walls. They were made with Peter and one of the dies.

Another photo out of order. here is what I've been doing for the last two day. I am insulating my studio to try and get through the winter in a way that doesn't resemble freezing to death this year. Nasty, awful, hideous, grotesquely itchy work. Of course I did not wear a mask and so it's likely that I have fiberglass fibers permanantely impregnated in my lungs now. Oh well, at least the silica won't be lonely.

So here is the die I used to extrude the coils. They are a good start to building something if you are going large.

I'm feeling super down. And so, I went to yoga tonight, which ended up being a great class, and I can already feel myself getting stronger. I think that's class number four now. It's amazing how quickly your body adjusts and strengthens. I still needed a little more of a spirit boost afterwards though, and so I bought a bottle of wine and some cheese. You just can't go wrong with wine and cheese. It's a decadent way to spoil yourself, eating and drinking it as slowly as I can (which is pretty fast). You should see me suck down a smoothie though. So at least it's not just booze.

Ripley's Believe it or Not

2008-10-21T22:11:00.004-04:00

Okay. Get ready to hear one of the most bizarre and amazingly true stories you have ever heard. Adam says to me tonight, on the evening of October 21. "Hey, we forgot to celebrate our anniversary". My reply was, "Did our anniversary just go by?" So after a short back and forth to confirm the date of our wedding and today's date, we came to the conclusion, that yes, we both forgot to celebrate, or even remember, our anniversary. It's slightly more comical when you realize that the actual day was ten days ago, and neither one of us remembered, and, the only reason that Adam remembered is that his Mom asked him, when he talked to her last night, what we did to celebrate. Are we messed up or what?

I forgot Adam's birthday the first year we were together. Around 11:30 at night, he's like, "so, are you going to wish me a happy birthday?". I felt so bad I cried. Neither one of us cried tonight.

Hot Water

2008-10-21T07:29:00.008-04:00

Hellooo. This is just a nothing post. I'm feeling refreshed and ready to get back to work. I want to put a little shout out with a wink to all the joe-six-packs and joe-the-plumbers out there who might be in the market for a new hot tub cover. If you have had yours for a while, I would imagine it is torn and extrememly heavy to the point where it is extrememly difficult to remove, and almost impossible to put back on.

So we were searching for a new cover, and were going to get a lift for it as well, and I stumbled onto this site called Spa Cap which has a totally unique approach to covering the tub. I won't go into details because unless you are in the market, it is uninteresting. But let me just say, the concept is like putting a warm comforter over your tub. If you are in the market, check it out. I just ordered ours this morning. I will post a photo of course.Lets see, let me find some pottery to put up this morning. Hold on, here it comes.

HEY-DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW SOME PEOPLE ARE GETTING PHOTOS TO SHOW UP ON THEIR BLOGROLLS?

Chilly...Brrr.

2008-10-19T07:53:00.004-04:00

Well this is the coldest it has been so far in the morning in the house. We still haven't turned the heat on yet. Not bad for October 19th in New England. I have gotten to the point where I have just accepted the cold. I just wear more clothes and that's that. My fingers and nose are usually pretty chilly to the touch, but I found these great gauntlets at a fair the other day, and they are great for wearing around the house and out. I only wish I could work in them in the studio. Ooh, that gives me an idea. What if I were to make some of these out of Neoprene? I might be onto something. I am now beginning to wonder whether we might be able to make it until the end of November without turning the heat on. As long as the inside of the house stays above 50-55 it will be tolerable with a few layers on and could conceivable save us hundreds of dollars in fuel this year. I'm so glad that we pre-bought fuel when it was like 3.50 a gallon, now that the price is plummeting and we could get it cheaper now. Oh well. It's always a risk. I think it's suspicious that the price is dropping so dramatically right before the election, but hey, I would make a good conspiracy theorist. So I am also wondering what the temperature is that is truly fuel economical to keep the thermostat on. I usually keep in arount 70 during the winter except at night when I turn it down to 55 or 60. What is that magic number where you will see a significant change in how much the furnace needs to run? There has to be an equlibrium somewhere. I'm thinking somewhere in the 50's. If anyone is a scientist out there let me know.

Here are a few of the things I like from the firing. I really like these three glaze designs, but they only really work on simple forms, and forms where you can see the inside and outside of the pot at the same time. I don't know, a lot to think about.

Not so great

2008-10-18T09:55:00.007-04:00

Well, I've been reluctant to come back to post because I am feeling a little down about my last firing. I had a really high failure rate. Failure, as in the sense that, I thought a lot of the stuff came out kind of ugly. I also put the turquoise glaze on too thickly on some pots and had some shelf stickies.

This black and white casserole I think is kinda cool. It could be more interesting though. One thing I have learned is that for this to look good- the black liner with the white outside- the white needs to go into the pot over the rim, instead of the black liner being outside the pot over the rim. It just looks like wet black paint, kinda hanging out on the outside of the pot the other way. Obviously glazing in this manner of having the liner glaze stop inside, just adds a lot of messy work.

This platter is probably one of my favorite things from the firing. However, it is not presentable because there is a small s-crack on the bottom, and the blue glaze is really pitted if you look closely. I forgot to take a picture of the bottom. Wait a sec.

My square plates came out okay. I'm not jumping up and down over them. I wish I had put some deco on the white stripes.

I am in a bit of turmoil right now. I need to reassess the direction I am moving in. I spent way too much time on making and then glazing (days) to have such a small success rate. I haven't worked in my studio for the last two days and don't plan to today. I'm just tryin to get my mind straight around all this. Well, I might go in and load the bisque, but then what? Spend another few days glazing that bisque to loose most of it to ugliness? I'm getting a little tired of that.

So on a different note, my first yoga class the other day was a Vinyasa Yoga class, it's like more aggressive, active movement class, and it KICKED MY ASS. I have been sore for days now. I went back last night and took another class, a normal yoga class hoping it would loosen me up. I am enjoying it however. It's kinda nice gathering with a group and practicing together. Melissa the teacher is really great too. She adjusted me a couple of times in a pose, and she doesn't just come over and move you and walk away. She comes over, and gently lays her hands on you, and you can kind of feel her assessing what needs to change, then she wraps her arms around you and presses you gently into position, and then stays there for a few moments holding you there. I swear you can feel the energy coming from her, and as soon as she puts you into position, I can feel that it is right now. Interesting.

I have been back to the Obama headquarters three times now. Yesterday we were assembling all the literature that you come home and find stuffed into your doors, only to toss into the garbage. So the next time you begin that toss, think of us, the little volunteers, our fingers raw and bleeding from stuffing them all together, and set them in the garbage gently.

Helloo

2008-10-14T17:10:00.003-04:00

Just a quick post. I'm still glazing. If I did not stop now I could be done and load tonight, but I started at ten this morning for the sole purpose of being able to quit early so I can go to a yoga class at 6:30, and so, I guess I will be starting the kiln tomorrow instead of tonight. It just takes soooooo long to glaze.

I kind of like the pots when they look like this. I like them better than when they are fired really. I don't practice yoga all the time, it comes and goes. I went to the local pub/spa with my grandson to get a pizza the other night and wandered into the yoga room and was like, I'm gonna take a class. I haven't taken a yoga class since college. I needed two PE credits and so took yoga for one of them, and Tai Chi for the other. I hated the Tai Chi class.

I practiced pretty consistently, on and off for a couple of years and got pretty flexible. I could fold my body completely in half. It's a really cool feeling. I can't explain it well, you'd have to experience it. Like cocooning yourself or something.

My second review shipment was accepted, with a few criticisms. So I'll be dropping the third one off next Monday. I've been watching the better part of a series I stumbled onto on PBS on the program American Experience. The series is The Presidents. Two, three, four hour shows delving into the presidencies of some of our better known presidents. I've caught Carter, Reagan, Nixon and I think one more. Nixon was last night, and the whole Watergate thing was a little before my political awareness. I remember knowing there was a Ford and Nixon running the country. I was probably only 12 or so, but obviously the details of the time were a little over my head or concern. Amazing. First the Vice President Spiro Agnew (sp?) resigns, and then the President. That's not something you see every day. What I find fascinating about these programs is how I begin to see the men in a more human light, whether or not I agree with their policies or not. I really felt a little compassion for what Nixon must have been feeling towards the end of the whole thing. It was wrong, but, people make mistakes. And then you have Reagan, going to great pains meeting with Gorbachev (spelling again) to try and work some nuclear agreement out-speaking to "the enemy". Makes you really wonder about the current Presidents communication skills and understanding of what communication is for. Ah, but I digress.

Jellybeans are tasty

2008-10-13T09:12:00.007-04:00

This is another politically based post, but it's very important to know. It's amazing how something so stupid, can be so important. Many of you are probably aware of this, but there is an attempt being made to broaden the definition and enforce a law regarding electioneering. I'm not an expert on the subject, but electioneering generally refers to ACTIVELY engaging in campaigning for a candidate. For instance the canvasing which I wrote about in my last post, or entering data, calling people on the phones, and likely those who stand outside courthouses and on street corners with signs and acting way too excited (but good for them).

Voter disenfranchisement is a big problem and it is used more often, at least from what I have observed, from the Republican campaign. Two big ones that immediately come to mind are redistricting and caging. Redistricting is something along the lines of literally re-doing district lines to gain voter results favorable to your desired party. Caging is sending mail out and if it comes back as undeliverable, then the party creates a list of all of these names and uses it to try and challenge voters at the polls if their names are on these lists. The Republican party is currently attempting to cage and create a list based on names sent to forclosed houses. Some people who have had their houses foreclosed on are still using that address as their legal address. I can think of reasons why, such as being temporarily homeless, trying to apply for benefits and needing to provide and address, etc. Many might also remember the phone jamming scandal during the 2002 election, initiated from the Republican party in which they jammed Democrat campaign headquarters phone lines.

So back to the electioneering issue. The problem, and I don't know if this applies to every state, is that a Republican led initiative is attempting to broaden the definition of electioneering regarding the wearing of t-shirts, pins or hats that show support for your candidate. If you show up at the polls and your t-shirt says Obama, or McCain than they have the discretion to turn you away and not allow you to vote unless you change your shirt or remove the item. Generally speaking, and this is just an observation, Democrats tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves a little more than Republicans, so while this would apply to both sides of the election, it is more likely to AFFECT the side of the Democrats. Those on the Republican side trying to enforce this law are referring to the wearing of t-shirts and such as PASSIVE electioneering.

There is obviously the possibility that this is an infringement on a persons individual rights. Free speech, if you can even call it that, being one. Perhaps it's a legitamite concern and should be enforced-that's something the courts should decide and then make very publicly known before the next election. It's not something that should be barely slipping over the radar that no one knows about and used this election as a way to disenfranchise voters. Some people stand in line for hours to vote, and the idea that they will be told that they will not be allowed to vote because of a t-shirt they have on is just plain disturbing, and will likely result in many of them not coming back to wait in line again. That is the desired outcome of this Republican led initiative and one we can not allow to happen.

So, to be safe, it is being recommended that if you think this law is bogus that you not use this election to protest your concerns by wearing your tshirt anyway. Go to the polls in your plain white Hains, cast your vote and then get involved after the election in trying to change or clarify these laws. Also, AND THIS IS THE MAIN REASON FOR THIS POST, TELL ANYONE YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS, AND ASK THEM TO TELL ANYONE THEY KNOW. DO NOT GO TO THE POLLS WEARING ANYTHING SHOWING SUPPORT FOR YOUR CANDIDATE. ITS NOT WORTH THE RISK OF NOT BEING ABLE TO VOTE. THIS ELECTION IS TOO IMPORTANT.

Thanks for reading. By the way, you probably figured out that I titled my post just to get your attention. How devious.

Race and Music

2008-10-12T10:03:00.004-04:00

Just me, kinda checkin in with ya folks. I don't want to keep Joe six-pack wondering what I've been up do, dont-cha-know? (That's my Palin impression there).

So last night I did some volunteer work. It was quite boring I can tell you. But, work that needed to be done. I'm going to try and go back this week some night. I did overhear something disturbing. You might remember if you've been following my post about puking and politics and the comments, that I mentioned that I had heard that some people have come right out and said that they will not vote for Obama because he is black. I sadly overheard a conversation last night from one of the canvasers (the ones who are out knocking on doors). He said this woman, who usually votes Democrat, said she just can't do it this time. "That America just isn't ready for a black president". What is this? Some new secret code of racism? By lumping yourself in with the nation, and assigning responsibility for your biases, to the nation, that this is now what, a statement of logic instead of a statement of intolerance and racism? Why can't she just say-there's no way I'm voting for a black guy for president-. That's what she meant. American isn't ready-what the f... does that say about our country if it is true anyway? And why would anyone want to support the perpetuation of that mentality? There is so much hatred out there. Obama is potentially making a huge sacrifice, as is his family. I fear that if he wins, that his presidency won't last for long. And that's a sad, sad, sad commentary on this nation.

So, on a lighter subject, I forgot to mention that I've played out at a couple of open mics this week. It's been a few months maybe since I had, and I don't play enough anymore, so I get really rusty, but it's always such a great feeling to get up there. Thursday night I played three songs that I wrote ... and a Jewel song. I'm almost embarassed to write that. Chick music, I know. I would like to play three songs I've never played out next week and so I'm working on: Landslide, This is the Life, and Closer to Fine. I'll let you know how it goes!

Bama Baby

2008-10-10T15:29:00.009-04:00

This is just a written post. I have my little grandson today until tomorrow, and we were downtown looking for a couple of books for him and when I spied the McCain headquarters, I thought to myself, why not stop into the Obama headquarters and see if I could get a yard sign. I've got a bumpers sticker, but I heard this comment on NPR the other day, that often people in a neighborhood might want to vote for a certain candidate, but feel like they need reassurance kind of, from their neighbors if the candidate is someone they might not ordinarily vote for. Most of the people on my street are at least in their 60's or 70's and so if any of them are wanting to come to the light side but just need a little mental push, I figured I might as well give it a shot. The Obama people have been to my house three times now, while I've working in my studio and I have never heard them knock. They must be like little mice. So, I got my sign and they gave the little guy a sticker and then the cute, way too young for me guy asked if I'd be interested in volunteering. My first reaction of course is to believe I couldn't possibly find the time in my extraordinary complicated and full life for such a thing, but that's really not true, and so when I got home I gave him a call and I'm pretty psyched that tomorrow night I will be volunteering to enter data, whatever that means. I told him I'm not the knock on door and call people on the phone type, and so this is what I will do. I'm pretty jazzed. It's nice to get involved. So today and tomorrow are pretty much shot as far as getting work done. I really can't afford the time right now, but I'll figure something out. I can probably push my firing to Thursday and still pull everything off. I need to drop my third review shipment off by the 20th, and if all went well with the second one, and all goes well with the third, I will officially be accepted and be done with all this and take a breath!

Politics that make me want to puke

2008-10-09T09:04:00.007-04:00

I'm getting ready to glaze. Everything that has texture on it is stained. I usually use mainly RIO to stain, but this mix has some other stuff in it, and so will probably be a little more on the black side. Could be nice. I have lost three of my platters from cracking. Really frustrating because of the time involved in them. Fortunately two I discovered before bisque, and so can reuse the clay, this one cracked during bisque. I really like the platter, so I am going to glaze it anyway and use it for myself. I refuse to sell items with s-cracks, so it's really disappointing when this happens.

So I'm really pissed and disgusted with the McCain campaign. I try to keep my political opinions to myself to keep my blog pretty neutral, but things are just going too far. You know, I don't think the Republican party in itself is evil. I personally hold a lot of opinions that could be deemed Republican. I'm a huge believer in personal responsibility. This bailout makes me sick. It also really annoys me that homeowners who made very bad financial decisions and are now paying the price for their bad decisions with huge mortgages and foreclosures, might be bailed out by the government (although if you are waiting for that, I wouldn't hold my breath because if the government had any intention of doing so, I feel they would have included it in the bailout bill). We own a home, we are struggling, but because we stayed within our means and so are barely getting by, there will be no bailout for us. I am already considering suing someone if/when I find that the government begins forcing banks to refinance peoples loans at lower interest rates. I don't see why our being responsible and exercising common sense should not entitle us to the same treatment. I'm sick of listening to the irresponsible cry foul.

I usually vote Democratic, but am not opposed to voting Republican. I voted Republican for George Bush's first term. It didn't take long for me to realize I had made a huge mistake and was desperate to get him out before his second term. So, that's all sad, bloody water under the bridge now. I vote Democrat, even though I hate in many ways, the groups and entitlement mentality that this often aligns me with. But I can't stomach the idea of aligning myself with the narrow minded, religious fanatics, corrupt wealthy CEO's and racists.

If you've been paying attention at all to this campaign it should be clear that McCain is sort of disgusted by Obama. I don't know of any personal history that should justify his distaste. It is very clear to me however, by his language, demeanor and behavior toward Obama. One can only guess what that distaste might arrise from. Anyone who refers to someone, a human being, as "that one" has shown a disregard for that person as a human being. It is not very far off from refering to him as "you boy". That? Are you kidding? What does he think he's doing, shopping for a sofa? Yes, I'll take that one.

You all probably know this, but two days ago, at a rally where Palin was using her prowess and wit to excite her political base, someone shouted out, in reference to Obama: to kill him. Imagine that. Kill him! Kill him! Nice huh? At the same rally, one of the nice, God-loving, attendees told a black cameraman to "sit down boy" and called him a racial name. No one is saying the name out loud of course, and since I only know one I'll have to guess that it was nigger. So someone calls a black cameraman a nigger, and tells him to "sit down boy". Maybe he should have said, sit down "that one", and maybe it wouldn't have made such big news (although there is still that n-word hanging out there). You know, it could be argued that these comments were not heard by Palin at the rally, but unless they spent the next 24 hours with their heads crammed into eachothers asses, then they should know about them now, and should have made a public apology for them, making it very clear that they did and do not condone them. I hope we still might see that, my guess is that we will not.

Afternote: I heard the next day that McCain has condemned some negative comments that have been made, but I heard it as third hand news so know no specific details of what he said. Just thought I should update my post with that.

Production, pea and me

2008-10-06T10:37:00.007-04:00

Judy Shreeve asked a question in her post about how we work, and I had said that I don't consider myself a production potter. I was thinking this morning though, how true or accurate that is. These photos are the last two days throwing. About two dozen mugs, eight pie plates and about ten dip dishes started. Don't forget the sixteen or so square casseroles and five bird feeders I just finished. I work like this all the time. You might notice that not only are there multiples of everything, but they are very similar to each other. So what does that mean? Am I a production potter?

I guess I don't think of myself that way because 1. I don't want to, and 2. My goal is not for the pieces to be identical. The only thing they have in common with eachother is a similar form and the weight of each piece, but the heights vary somewhat, as do the diameters of their openings. And I want them that way. I guess I think of production as precise and mechanical. Without a lot of flexibility. I'm not going to write too much more about this now, mostly because I have to get working, but it's something to think about. If anyone has any ideas on the subject it would be interesting to hear them.

So, on a more personal note, I found a great Pea jacket at the thrift store yesterday for 25$. It's in great shape and fits perfectomundo. It is navy blue. Not to be confused with my shorter, pleated in the back, girly-style, black Pea jacket you see below. I love these coats I think because they are as at home over something kind of dressed up as they are over jeans and a t-shirt. The funny thing about this though, and the reason I am posting about it, is that I found this jacket just a couple of days after I read this post from a blog (avert your eyes if you are easily offended) called "Stuff White People Like". An entire post could probably be written about the site and whether it is offensive or whatever, but I just think it's pretty funny, and strangely accurate about, well, white people. At least those living in New England.

I'm cold.

2008-10-04T16:53:00.003-04:00

teeny-tiny jar

A mind numbing, finger cramp inducing, shiver producing cold that has sunk deep into my bones. I have been cold for days and my only respite is late at night, pressed against Adam under the covers. I jumped in the shower this morning; my sole intent being raising my body temperature. After a moment I remembered that I had hot tub in my back yard and so climbed out of the shower and into the 102 degree water which I raised to 103. It's a strange feeling, soaking in hot water, shivering inside. After 15 minutes I finally felt warm again.

It's five o'clock now. I'm sitting on a heating pad, eating a bowl of black bean soup, not because I'm hungry, but because it's hot (although I seldom need the excuse of hunger to eat) and drinking another cup of tea. I am determined not to turn the furnace on yet. We pre-bought 650 gallons of propane, although I told Adam I thought we should buy 750. If I turn the heat on now, we will never make it through the winter and will likely have to buy more when the price is at it's yearly peak.

Sadly, to try and cope with what has become a frightening heating bill in the winter, we have decided to shut down the master bedroom, which has it's own bath and move into the guest room. We plan to put a damper in the ductwork to stop the heat from heading to that part of the house. Our house is not large, and this will effectively remove about 1/3 of our living space. It is however, an enormous heat drain, being the coldest room in the house on any day. I am assuming they used paper towels-of the single ply variety-to insulate the walls.

And so it is time to get the crock pot out again. For anyone who missed this post the last time, Adam once had the brilliant idea of using a crockpot for my water bucket and it really helps. So will this heating pad under my butt which is coming downstairs with me now.

Peter and pans

2008-10-03T08:44:00.005-04:00

Here is one of the bird feeders I am working on. I put some holes in the bottom as well for drainage just in case.

The top is made of three pieces, which I intend to glaze differently from each other.

Here's my mixer/pugger. It looked so nice like this I hated to get it dirty. I wish you could see this in person. I am so impressed with the quality of this thing. Every part on it is obviously chosen because it was the best they could find. There is absolutely nothing cheap or half-assed about it. Seriously, this great. I feel really lucky and grateful that it is mine.

I was able to take my scraps; some slop, leatherhard stuff and bone dry stuff, and turn it into this:

It took me just a couple of batches to get the hang of using it. I'm not sure how much I did yesterday. I'm guessing a few hundred pounds. I've been saving the plastic bags from purchased clay which worked well for storing the clay.

This last picture is for Tom Grey. He had put a post up about using cast iron pans and I told him I would put up a photo of a couple of my favorite cast iron pans. Cast iron is great. As good or better than non-stick once you get a good season on it. If you are into blackened food at all it's a must. The pan in the back on left is actually not cast iron, but it is also one of my favorite pans. It is a pressure cooker and I use it all the time for rice, soups, spaggetti sauce and most importantly dry beans. After soaking beans overnight, It takes 12 minutes to cook black beans for example and around the same time even for chickpeas. Anyone who has ever tried to cook chickpeas from scratch know that it is almost impossible to get them tender and takes HOURS.
It quite literally will cook a soup or pasta sauce in minutes, and cook it as though it has been cooking all day.

Peter's here!

2008-10-01T16:44:00.004-04:00

It's here!!! I am so excited. My Peter Pugger has arrived! And look . . . it's all dressed up! I thought the folks at Peter Pugger were so sweet to put a bow on it for me, but then I talked to my father and found out he had asked them to. . . which is even sweeter.

So now this bad boy, dressed up in drag is out in my driveway. At 250 lbs. he's a little too hefty to drag in here myself. It's raining, and I hear thunder far away. Poor little guy, out there all alone.

My "new" wedging table

2008-09-30T20:08:00.006-04:00

So I have this sorry looking little wedging table. It's not very big, but it's main problem is it's ugliness. I've been wanting to revamp it for a while and since while I had been feeling sick I was not feeling creative in the pot making area, I thought I would give it a go. It originally had a canvas covered, plywood top. This annoyed me because once the canvas stretched out over time, it would bunch up while I was wedging. I've taken the top off and restretched more than once. Enough is enough!

So I decided to turn it into a plaster topped table since I already had the plaster on hand. I took the top off, cut it to fit into the frame, lowered the legs and dropped the top in. I had intended on making the depth about 1 1/2" so the table wasn't too heavy to move around, but forgot to take into account the depth of the plywood, so it's really only about 1" deep. I figure as long as I don't clog dance on it, it should be fine.

I had some paint kicking around and so I didn't even need to spend any money there. The dark paint is left over from my son's room when he was still living at home. It was so bright and cheery in there. I couldn't resist the next little touch.

I hand lettered the logo, with paint leftover from the trim in our house, and I have to say it looks really awesome. I keep laughing when I look at it. We had a Brent slabroller in college, and it was a great piece of equipment. Now I have my own little piece of Brent!

Here's some mugs in the front and some bird feeders towards the back. Tomorrow my pugmill should arrive! I am so excited! I probably won't be able to get it into the house until Adam gets home, so I will spend the following day learning how to use it and recycling my clay! Peter and Brent will be so happy together.

Apple picking

2008-09-29T09:10:00.005-04:00

I just thought I'd put up a quick little note. I'm not really sick anymore-still feeling a little light-headed though. We spent the day at the fair yesterday with my grandson eating french fries, gyros and ice cream. Petting the sheep and such. It was drizzling out most of the day but really didn't start raining until we were leaving. I was hoping to get into my studio today, but we won't be dropping the little guy off until 2:30, so probably not much will be done in there. We're going to stop on the way and do a little apple picking. Hopefully I will have some photos of a new batch of work soon. I'm still waiting to hear about approval of my second shipment of work to the league. Well, I'm just sitting here trying to think of things to say, so I guess there's not much worth writing about today so I will end for now.

Monkeys would use math if they could

2008-09-25T14:04:00.005-04:00

Ben Stark asked me the other day about making the bat pin holes in the bats I made, so I thought I would show you super fast what I did. I think the entire process is easier if you start out with plywood that you have ripped into squares. Using a long straight edge, mark the center of the board.

Then, and this is important, measure out from the center the distance of your batpin holes. Measure the distance of your batpins on center. Not to point out the obvious to those who know what that means, but to those who don't, on center means from the center of the spot (in this case the bat pin) to the center of the other spot (the other bat pin). Now transfer that measurement to the wood. In my case, my bat pin holes are 10" apart on center, so I just lined the ruler up with the five inch point, and measured out five inches from there. You can see where I put my little x's.

I took a lot more photos, but then decided to skip the demos of obvious things. One photo I should have kept maybe was that I then took a compass and holding the pointy edge in the middle of my large center X, drew a nice circle inside of the square.One little tip. I found that occasionally the drill liked to drift a little when drilling the hole, so once I had one hole drilled I fitted it onto the bat head and with a hammer tapped down to mark where the other one would end up, just to make sure I hadn't drifted too much and so I could adjust the drill point if neccessary. You might ask: why not just take the circle and put it on bat head and mark the holes that way to begin with? I would answer because we are not monkeys, that's why. We can use tools and math and resort to monkey-like behavior as a last resort.

So, it's about 2:00 now. I now realize that I am not just over-tired from not sleeping, I am sick. So, I spent the morning cutting the bats and cleaning up a considerable mess (should have done it outside). My last goal of the day is to attach the bottoms to my new batch of square casseroles, put them under plastic and call it a day. I will attach the handles tomorrow. I am like a walking zombie right now. You might ask if it was safe for me to be using power tools given , my mental lethargy, and I would answer that if I can manage to seriously hurt myself with a jigsaw, then that is natural selection at it's finest.

Square casseroles

2008-09-25T08:51:00.003-04:00

I've been playing around with making square casseroles. I made them without bottoms and attached slab bottoms. The handles were intensely time consuming until I got the hang of it, and by the seventh one I had a good feel for what I wanted and how to get it.

I threw some more to work on today, but I threw them with the bottoms in. I have seen others make squares from pots with bottoms, but when I pushed the sides in the bottom bunched and puckered up inside. Maybe there's something I don't know. So I ended up cutting the bottoms out and will finish them today, probably with a different style handle.

I didn't sleep well last night, so I'm way too tired to try to write anything interesting, so that's all for now.

Super-size me bats

2008-09-23T13:18:00.004-04:00

Since I obviously don't know how to stay within the parameters of my immediate equipment, the last platter I threw was about 21" across, and even without a Masters degree (sniffle-sniffle) I knew it would not fit well for trimming onto my 21" bat-never mind the drama of trying to flip the beast over on such a small confinement. And so yesterday I drove to my neighborhood lumber yard and bought a piece of plywood. For any of you interested in such a trip, be sure to realize firsthand that just because the inside of your vehicle measures more than 48", doesn't mean that the point of entry does. Fortunately, after attempting to help load the piece into my car with my friendly lumber guy without success (when he asked me what kind of plywood I wanted, I responded "the long flat kind" to which he was amused and not annoyed) he had no problem cutting down to 24" pieces, which is the size bat I wanted to make anyway.

So I made two of them with help from Adam's manly strong hands holding the wood for me as I jigsawed, and he ran the table saw, which I am quite afraid of, to rip the remaining wood down to made smaller bats. Another pearl of wisdom: the diameter is not the same as the diagonal. I know the old adage is to measure twice and cut once. I apparently prefer to measure five or six times, and then cut twice. There's a disconnect in my brain somewhere. At least my error was on the large side, so can be fixed.

This platter isn't actually finished yet. When I took it off and flipped it over there was still way too much clay on the sides so it went back on. But there it is, 21" platter on one of my 24" bats. It took every ounce of strength and commitment to flip this over onto the bat for trimming. Factor in 25 lbs. of clay, a 16" plaster bat, and a 24", 1/2" thick bat all sandwiched together, and being held up with the strength of my left arm. It's a scary moment.

Sweet ride

2008-09-20T12:39:00.006-04:00

So I'm pretty grateful to Jeff Martin for his inspiration to me. Not only do I love his work but he's into bike riding which has really inspired me to get back out and do a little riding before the snow flys. I usually ride quite a bit, but this year almost nada. So I went out for about 45 minutes this morning and feel really good. I got that riders high. I was gonna take a picture with me in my silly gear with my bike, but my battery was dead so I'm all cleaned up and showered with my sweet ride. I had to turn around this morning cause I was a little cold. I had to put leggings under my bike shorts and put a thin hat on. Brrrr. Thank you Jeff!

I did a little texturing on the sides of my square plates. In my mind they look really sweet when they are done. The edges will be unglazed with oxide rubbed in, with the center glazed. Can you see it?

Little Miss Stripey

2008-09-18T19:34:00.000-04:00

Well, the in-laws are here for the weekend, and, my father Dennis has had to come to Boston for the weekend, and so there is a bit of a family theme for the next few days. I would like to post some photos of some slab plates I made, but I just don't feel like the whole photo download thing, so here is another pot from my last firing. A vase. To put flowers in. Be back Monday or Tuesday!

My big baby

2008-09-17T19:14:00.007-04:00

This little beauty is about 21" across. It's quite flat, the largest flattest thing I have thrown so far. I have thrown a 24" bowl, which is a little easier I think.

These are some wood molds I made today for shaping slabs over to make square plates.

My heat gun I bought the other day, which greatly improves my ability to throw something like a 21" platter.

One of my pots from my last firing.

I had a few responses to my last post, and I found my response becoming quite long (what a surprise) and so decided that I would reply as a post. I promise not to post anything else so serious for at least one day after this. I'm not trying to contradict anything anyone said, just to write down what it got me thinking of. I am particularly interested in the idea of living for the moment, or rather treating each moment like it could be your last. I think it's a nice concept, but in the long run difficult, not to mention depressing thinking that every moment could be your last! It's a lot of pressure to put on yourself in life, because there is so much that has to be done that we really don't want to do but has to be done. Maybe some people manage to pull that off but it would be pretty hard for me. I know if I treated each moment as if it were my last, I'd never work, never clean the toilet, etc. I certainly wouldn't be sitting here typing on this computer.

I think the more do-able and equally important thing to do is to be present in every moment. It's like that bumper sticker that says: I'd rather be here now. It's something to really think about. Most of us probably perform a lot of tasks all the while wishing we could be doing something else. when I find myself rushing through something, like dishes or whatever and my mind is scattered and I'm starting to feel anxious because I'm already thinking of what I need or want to do next, I try to mentally stop, and while not exactly enjoy doing dishes, at least experience doing dishes. You can find a little Zen that way. I should say as a disclaimer here, that I desperately need to take my own advice. I'm not exactly settled most of the time. But it's something to think about-what you would do differently if you knew for sure this was it. If you told me, and I knew it to be true, that I had three days left to live I would embrace my hearts desire. I would do what I needed to do to spend those three days at peace inside. But I have to live believing I have maybe 30 years left, and that's a whole different ballgame.

Thoughts on Alan

2008-09-17T08:14:00.008-04:00

I don't know if it is appropriate for me to spend time addressing Alan's death and death in general and how I feel about it. I don't want to offend or hurt anyone who knew him well, yet lately, when things are on my mind, this is where I put them.

I didn't find out about Alan until late last night. It had been a good day for me and I had spent the day with pretty high spirits. When I finally sat down to catch up on my blog reading and starting reeling all this information in I was just in disbelief and unexplicably sad. It's always been a strange circumstance to me, to realize that while you were baking a cake, or dancing or making love or laughing, that someone somewhere that had a presence in your life was dying. I have not really had to absorb the deaths of many in my life at all, and most who have gone, it was their time more or less. I miss my grandparents, and wish I had spent more time with them while they were here, but I understand death is part of life, and it was time for them, and I am not afraid of death when it comes for me.

My uncle Ronnie died too young. He wasn't terribly older than I am now and I wasn't particularly close with him. I found him entertaining as an uncle the once or twice a year I might see him. He was a fabulous pianist, irreverant, and I just liked him. When he died my reaction completely caught me by surprise. I was devastated. I cried for days, never knowing when it would hit me, and still imagine to this day that he is watching over me when I am trying hard in my car to learn to sing (against natures desire) He once asked me if I "had the music in me" and I try to think that maybe I do a little, and not waste it entirely as I imagine that he is looking on, even though I will never express it even close to as well as he did.

I had a relationship of mutual dislike with my ex-husbands father. He just wasn't very nice to me and I guess I never took the time to sit down with him and ask him why and tell him I wish it could be better. When he died I sobbed. I sobbed for a man I almost despised and left a letter in his coffin telling him how I wish things could have been better.

My reaction to Alan's death also caught me by surprise. I cried for the death of someone I did not know. I have no idea who Alan was except what I saw about him on his blog. What I saw was someone who seemed to have a great sense of humor ("Paul if this looks right to you stand up!") and was very generous sharing his techniques with us. I asked him a question once about how he made cut handled bowls and a couple of days later there was an extensive demo on his site showing how. And lastly I am regretful because of something simple I wanted to say to him, and now I never can.

He once posted a photo of a white vase that I fell in love with and asked him about. He explained that the other side had some brushwork on it and so might not be what I was looking for, and posted a photo to show me. It was lovely, but he was right, not exactly what I had in my mind. I politely wrote back thank you but, etc. . . Perhaps it is just my over analysing things as I am prone to do, but I have always worried that I might have offended or hurt his feelings by rejecting that vase, and I kept meaning to send him a note saying something about it. I'm sure that many reading this are going to rightly believe that he was completely fine about it and not offended at all, and you are probably right. It's just that now that opportunity is gone. Something I kept meaning to do, can never be done now. Just another of those moments when you realize all you might have is today and that's it.

So last night I wrote a note to someone about something that has been on my mind and in my heart for years. I felt compelled to write it, and decided I was not going to let the moment go by. I don't know what the result will be, but I think the results of not sharing my thoughts and hopes with him is worse than any anger he might feel by my doing so. I want to believe that I might somehow change his heart a little, and as a result, someone else's life with that letter. Maybe it's presumptuous of me to think I have that power, but if people I really don't know can affect my life, than hopefully I can affect his.

very sad

2008-09-16T19:40:00.005-04:00

I suppose like everyone else right now, I am in shock at learning about Alan's death. It strange how the death of someone you have never met can so impact you. I can't say much, because I don't know him enough to be so presumptuous, but it's very,very sad. I can't believe I will never read another post from him again, or view another of his beautiful photos that made me long to visit his homeland. I am so, so sorry for those who knew him well, and his family and close friends.

Oh special day

2008-09-16T10:05:00.006-04:00

So after my pity party yesterday I decided to throw big for a while. I worked on a few platter/bowls. The sides of the first two collapsed resulting in them being much smaller than intended, and also inspiring a trip to the hardware store this morning to look for a heat gun or larger torch. I managed to save the third full size, which is still on my wheel. They range in diameter from 14", 16", and 19".

When I throw large I use these plaster bats which elevate the surface above my splashpan and slop goes flying everywhere. Daisy was standing nearby watching me work and I look over and this is what she looked like. She was obviously in the line of fire, but I didn't hear her protesting. She had it all over the back of her neck as well. She looked pretty funny.

Well, I have some fantastic news I think I will share. This morning, after rubbing the sleepies from my eyes (better than yesterdays tears) I received an mail from my father Dennis. He thought that maybe I could use a Peter Pugger? Can I ever! I've been eyeballing this baby for years! I am beyond excited about this for reasons I don't have to explain to any potters out there. These large bowls were all made from reclaim clay and it was torturous wedging it as it was too hard, and I spent a great deal of time spraying water on it, and wedging forever trying to get all the air out. My reclaim is almost porous it is so full of air, and I am going to get a vacuuming mixer/pugger, so now, my reclaim will be de-aired and those two huge buckets of dry clay, and the third I've started, will finally get recycled as I have no reason to put it off now. And when I start making my own clay this will just be fantastic to have. So a good start to my day. If all goes well, assuming they are in stock he might ship it to me on Friday. Thank you so much Dad!

Debbie And The Horrible, Not So Good, Very Bad State Of Mind

2008-09-15T14:35:00.003-04:00

You would think that something awful has happened today but it has not. I am feeling sooo defunct in the optimism department about making a living doing this thing. I can not tell you what a bummer (I suppose some of you know) it is to feel like you have spent so much money, and invested so much time for nothing. I got this check in the mail today for 59.00. Whoopee. Man does that make it all worth it. I just went and switched my old work out for my new at two places local I have it. I picked up sooo much old work. It was really depressing. There was a time I dropped that stuff off and felt really good about it. What does that say about the stuff I left today? Am I gonna be picking that up in six months as well and thinking maybe it sucks after all? So now I gotta head down to my studio and work with a very bad attitude, feeling very uninspired, and wondering how long it will be before I head back to the restaurants. At least I had a steady paycheck.

Who's making this girly-looking pottery anyway?

2008-09-14T11:29:00.003-04:00

I have mixed feelings about this firing. There are some things I really like, like these two pieces here, and some that just doesn't do it for me. It's so frustrating. I have to start thinking of all my work as test pieces so I don't become too disappointed when they don't work out. I know eventually I will have more success than disappointment-I've already seen a shift in that direction-but I am really looking forward to the ratio of great to icky to increase. I think I'm at about 50% now. Is it too much to ask for 90? So I am really still loving this blue/creamish yellow combo above. Kind of a fluke test I did a while back, and I consistently love it. I just hope the buying public agrees.

This is kind of fun I think. I really like the blue and black. I am skeptical that it will sell well, so I don't think I will invest too much inventory in the "line" until I see some movement from shelves. Not much interesting to report in my life. Adam is back from Chicago, which means I don't have to bring Daisy out at night now-oh yeah-it also means I get the pleasure of his fabulous company (he reads this so I gotta throw that in). Another rainy day in New Hampshire. I only wish I were camping and could hear the raindrops on my tent. That would be perfect.

Spotty McGee

2008-09-12T18:36:00.003-04:00

Just a little mug. One of the ones that had the handles I was working on. It's also made with that clay I was testing. I really like the clay a lot. The only thing that is making me hesitate about making it is that my main glaze, the yellowy one on this cup, comes out kind of yellowy instead of orangy. It's not bad, but different. I have four bowls with this clay, that I think I will test the glaze with different thicknesses and see what happens, and then go from there.

My kiln is cooling now. Tomorrow I will weep tears of sorrow, or joy. Not feeling so good today. Can't stop sneezing and just feel achy. I'm watching my grandson so I'm just hoping to have a chill night with him. Got a little Ghostbusters action on the tube which he likes. Adam's in Chicago until tomorrow so I've been a single gal for a couple of days. I'll be sure to post some photos of today's firing over the weekend. See ya later.

Tom Cruise and tumblers

2008-09-10T23:24:00.011-04:00

I had the same issue with the washed out black on these tumblers. But I hope to have better luck next time with what I'm learning from the book.

Three more tumblers. I love making tumblers for some reason.

So I've decided to forgive Tom Cruise. I've had a bit of a grudge against him now for a while. Maybe two years. It all started because of a little conflict on South Park. I've watched the show enough to have an idea of the humor, much of it juvenile, tasteless and not funny. Much of it juvenile, tasteless and really hilarious.

The thing I like about South Park is that they make fun of everything and everyone, and like it or not, sometimes they are dead-on with the views they present. They spent an entire episode mocking what can easily be seen as the ridiculousness of blindly believing in the story of the beginning of Mormonism without questioning. However, they also end the episode kind of saying, but hey, we should all tolerate each others beliefs. I'm probably telling you what you already know, but they make fun of every religion, every race, every idea of sex and what ever else might be out there.

So when the episode "Trapped in the Closet" satirizing Scientology came around, no one should have been surprised, or any less, or more offended, than by any other episode. Certainly not Isaac Hayes, who for nine years had no problem participating in a show while they mocked every other religious belief. A few months after the episode aired, he asked to be released from his contract with the show because he felt that making fun of someone's (his) religion was intolerant and bigoted. I personally think he was being a hypocrite (no offense to his memory or him personally) , but it was his choice.

Enter Tom Cruise (also a Scientologist) who was portrayed in the episode. Now this next detail is why I lost a lot of respect for him and began a two year boycott of his movies (I still haven't seen MI 3, although I love Philip Seymore Hoffman and wanted to see it for his performance alone). Cruise took his outrage to another level. He threatened Paramount saying that unless they agreed they would not rebroadcast the episode that he would not promote the MI3 movie. This just really bothered me, because anytime I see someone trying to promote censorship it just outrages me-a good topic in itself for another day.

So the other day we went to see Tropic Thunder, a movie that has had it's own share of criticism stemming from jokes at the expense of people with mental disabilities. I kind of cringed at some of the things said, so I can see why some might be offended-some people were also outraged because Robert Downey Jr. was playing a black man (which by the way he was great in-as usual). But I'm digressing. The surprise performance in the movie was by none other than Mr. Tom Cruise himself. If you don't know he's in this movie going in, it might actually take you a minute to realize who he is. He does a really great job with his character and I found myself enjoying the performance, and thinking it was time to let go of a grudge. We are all, after all, human, imperfect little people, and even the super-humans like Cruise sometimes do and say regrettable things (regrettable in my opinion anyway).

So I think I will finally rent MI3, and get on with my next boycott. If I could only stop eating meat and cheese again . . . talk about a hypocrite!

Maybe I'm so cold today because my reflections are POLARized-get it?

2008-09-09T16:40:00.005-04:00

I don't think I've put these up yet-if I have, then you get to see them twice. This handled pot is one of the only ones that came out okay.

I am reading a book my father Dennis sent me. It is called Light, Science and Magic and is by Fil Hunter, Steven Biver and Paul Fuqua. It's a great book, and if you are interested in learning to photograph your own pots, then this book will likely improve your photos and the ease with which you can make them happen; I know it has already helped me a lot and I have much more still to read.

I learned an interesting thing this morning. I have been having a really difficult time photographing my black pots, like the one above. They look washed out and really difficult to control the reflections on them. Well, I think I now know why, and what I can do about it. I can't possibly explain what I have read thus far, but enough to say that there are several different kinds of light, and, interestingly enough, different types of reflections, and different ways to control them. I think the reflection I am getting off my black glaze is a polarized reflection-which is why I can't make it go away. Now, a far better photographer than myself might be able to deal with this differently-or they might do the same. What I might have to do is to put a polarizing filter over my lens and if it is indeed the type of reflection I am getting, it should solve the problem. It won't help if I am wrong-it will only solve polarized reflection issues . . . but . . . this next thing is fascinating.

You can create polarized reflections by polarizing your lightsource. For example, if I have a direct reflection on a pot, a polarized filter will not change it. However, if I were to put a polarized film over my light, the reflections the light created would then be polarized, and would then be able to be controlled by a polarized filter over my camera lens. I don't know why I would ever do that, but it is cool to know and understand. Knowledge is power!

It ain't no five-dollar t.v.

2008-09-07T10:11:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I had a last minute porch sale to try and unload my seconds and older work. There was a town-wide yard sale going on and I thought I'd take advantage of the traffic. I was selling my stuff CHEAP. So cheap that I sometimes did not fully understand why someone would by one mug and be done. Okay, I am kind of embarrassed to say how cheap, but I was selling almost all my mugs, cups and bowls for 1$. Yes, 1. I just want to get rid of it. So I set up at noon, and sold till 3:30 and made 158$. I wish I had set up in the morning because I think I would have unloaded a lot more. I was kind of depressed about the whole thing though. One, I hate devaluing my work like that. It was de-moralizing for me, and as I thought about it through the sale, I worried that I was de-valuing my work, or pottery in general in the publics eye as well. I really want to get rid of this stuff though as it mentally keeps me down. I want to move forward, and when the past is staring you in the face . . .

When I talked to Adam about it later he said that I shouldn't take it personnally, that yard-salers are bottom feeders. As someone who is not above stopping at a yard sale occasionally, I don't subscribe to that theory, but I do think he was correct when he said that when people go out yard-saling they have a certain mindset about them. They are scrounging for a deal. The five dollar T.V. that they think is worth 300 as he said. Unfortunately they might not appreciate that they are holding a 1 dollar pot worth twent-five. So if I market my work in an evironment of cheapness, and sell it cheaply, I shouldn't be too surprised when I feel like shit about it. Oh well.

Diggin' it

2008-09-06T09:41:00.003-04:00

Here's a little jar. This is the same glaze combo as the small plate I put up a few days ago. I really like this combo together, which is good because I have a five gallon bucket full of the lighter glaze because I was trying to make half that much, but made it way to thin, and so to fix it I made another batch of dry and mixed together.

I hope I didn't already post this plate. I guess I'll find out in a minute. A little ring action going on. Diggin' it.

I just don't really have anything else much to say. I'll be spending the next three work days glazing again, firing on Thursday. I have enough bisque that I think I can get two more firings, and then it's back to making pots again.

Boozin' it

2008-09-05T17:13:00.003-04:00

I dropped off my first review shipment today. I left twelve pieces, the photos here are three of them, snapped in this mornings manic photo frenzy. I'm actually pretty happy with the photo above of the oval.

This photo has a little too much reflection on it. It washes the color out a little.

This one came out really sweet too. I stopped at the camera shop in Concord and the bulbs I need are 20$ a piece and I just can't swing it, especially with my new mop purchase. So I stopped at Lowes and got some full spectrum compact florescents to try. If they don't cut it then I will have to spring for the other bulbs.

So after a pretty crazy day of unloading, analyzing, pricing, packing and driving and a aftermath of carnage at my house as a result, I am eating some dinner and drinking a very large martini with some fresh mango in it. I call it a martini, but it's just vodka in a glass with mango. My friend, locally famous Bob King is playing tonight at the Common Man. So I will try to have only this one martini so I can go listen later. Good night and good luck.

Flowers and a dirty floor

2008-09-05T08:39:00.003-04:00

Still another couple of pieces from last firing. These are some better photos I tried to take. I still need to work on my lighting a little. I'd like to find three of those cool-burning photos lights. I just need to get off my butt and do it. The tumbler below is pretty big actually. It could be used as a vase.

My firing this time was eh-eh. I did not get my main browny-orange glaze on thick enough on many pots. Sometimes they look okay like that, sometimes not. I had maybe a 60% success rate. So that's better than many firings in the past. However, I did have great success refiring two pieces from last firing where the glaze was too thin, so I will try to refire a few of the pots that I really like but didn't quite come out.

I bought something really special yesterday. You have to wonder about my sad little life when something like this pleases me. I bought a commercial style mop bucket and mop. You know the kind where you dunk the mop into a yellow bucket on wheels and and squeeze out the water in the presser thing. It's by Rubbermaid and is really quality. Nice to occasionally buy something nowadays that hasn't been manufactured like crap. So my little setup does a great job of mopping the floor, which was sorely in need.

New and old/new

2008-09-04T09:48:00.004-04:00

These pots are still from my last firing. The pot above is the direction I feel pulled in now.

This pot with the leaves is a direction I was working on before I changed course (again). I really like it, and I like the sprigging. Maybe I can figure a way to incorporate both into the same pot.

These tumblers above are part of that same last direction. I had already had all these pots sprigged, and so glazed the the way I was working before, but now I wish had tried some with the new style I am working on. Oh well.

My kiln is almost to temp. I won't be glazing or making any pots today. I want to see how this batch comes through the fire before I glaze the next one. I'm still learning something from each successive firing that I try and pass on to the next. I have to find out today, but I think I might need to put some serious thought and work into designing a booth. I might need a photo of it to apply to the fair Nov.1. I've studied a lot of other potters' booths trying to get a feel for what to do, and what I've learned is that everyone does it differently. I have definitely formed some opinions of what NOT to do. I'm a little overwhelmed at the prospect.

I just figured out something pretty cool I thought I'd share. I regularly have trouble with the top shelf of my kiln being cooler than the middle. Often close to a cone. The bottom is a little behind as well. I believe the main reason the top is so far behind is because of my vent. I have three tiny holes drilled into my kiln lid where the air draws in, and then exits at the bottom of the kiln. I believe that air draw is enough to keep the top shelf cooler. I could solve this by putting a blank shelf over my top layer, but stacking doesn't always work out so conveniently.

I had the idea last firing, that if I removed a peep plug from the center of the kiln, that the air would then draw through that peep hole instead of the top holes. I tested this with a match and my assumption was correct. I decided that when I reached cone 5 this firing I would pull a center peep and test this. I am blown away as I went to check and ALL THREE cone packs are cone 6 down and cone 7 up. I then became concerned about the kiln making it through the soak without overfiring, and so I skipped the last five minutes (I had only programmed 8), re-programmed the ramp/cool again (quickly before I lost too much heat) and was off and running again. I wasn't expecting this level of success with this approach. See woodfirers! There's a lot of excitement and drama in electric too!

Plates and jars and pizza

2008-09-03T19:09:00.003-04:00

Here are a couple more pieces from my last firing. The plate above is actually kind of small-like a lunch plate. I really like this combination, so I'd like to do more with it. However, the lighter glaze is very difficult to apply with a brush, so it's a pain. I have to check into gum or whatever it is you use to make a glaze more brushable.

Here are a couple of jars.

I have the kiln loaded and ready to fire. It will start again at 12:30 am. I think it reached peak around 10 am last time, so that works out well. I'm still trying to get a feel for what to do with the black brushwork. Like what is too much, and what is not enough. Plus just what feels right as far as design goes. Well that will do it for me. I am making a tasty pizza tonight. It is a cheese-less pizza, but that is partially because I have eaten so much cheese lately I need a break, and because the fresh mozzarella was 8 dollars for a pound which was out of my budget. The crust is made with sourdough-rosemary-olive oil dough that I made this morning, and is topped with sliced ugly tomato-which by the way, is the BEST tomato I have had in years, salt, pepper and olive oil. It promises to be tasty.

Vase with ears

2008-09-02T21:07:00.001-04:00

Blahhh. Too tired to write. Glazing kicks my butt. Just wanted to put up a little picture of a little pot that I like a little-lot. Chow for now.