30 Years Ago

I remember a ceramics class, back when schools had funding and felt an importance to preserve the arts rather than focus on standardized testing. I didn’t get bitten by the pottery bug back then but it sure must have planted a seed, that lay dormant for around 30 years. This pot has laid dormant as well, in the back of a cupboard, until it was recently found by my mother. I don’t think I actually remember making this one although I can drum up some memories from the class. It’s funny though, I was making kodai (foot) on my bowls since the very beginning. I found the same in photography. Looking back through my oldest images. The style was already there, small, simple and unadorned.

I think we all enjoy reminiscing and having a wash of nostalgia every now and again. The thing that I like about this pot is that I didn’t “care” too much, I just made it. You can clearly see my fingerprints. A pinched pot with a foot that I was able to see again after so long.

Spring again

The Forsythia

Does not notice me

Sketching


 

Recovering from double pneumonia that I caught over the weekend somehow. There has been an epidemic of it around here as of late from what my brother  tells me in the ER. So I’m taking it very easy and doing what my body tells me to do, be slow and comfortable and enjoy the beginnings of spring.

Forsythia is a beautiful blooming bush from the Olive family. It blooms without leaves early in spring with yellow / golden four petal flowers and is a delight for my mind to run around in the branches seeing them arc and dart and entwine. this is the second year that we have been able to see it bloom outside our bedroom window. I decided to do some sketching and relax. All the hard work I’ve put in is still moving along even when I get put down and have to stop. It all keeps going.


 

My son, being the 6 year old boy that he is, decided it would be fun to break one of the huge flower pots we had out back. It was the one that caught my eye when we were out searching and when I realize that this would be our new home. He didn’t realize how sentimental it was to me. All was not lost however since I remembered that it could be turned into a fine grog and mixed in with my new works. Now the pot can live on in new forms and be a part of someone’s life. So now, not only does my time, my effort and my soul go into my work, but the sentiment of my home and current studio as well.