Yesterday I cleaned up the glazing mess and wedged some clay. Sometimes, I can rationalize my way out of working. I could throw cylinders today, but if I do, then I have to be able to work on them day after tomorrow and the forecast is snow and the kids will be out of school, so I'll get interrupted too often and the whole thing will dry too fast, and it will all be wasted, so my time would be better spent elsewhere. Like finding a better way of keeping my pieces wet or catching up on reruns of The West Wing.
I was reading Tracey Broome's blog this morning, and she got me thinking. She makes sculpture and some functional pots, too, but is never happy with the functional ware. I do the same thing. I'll be in the studio, looking over the shelves of work when it hits me that no one can actually use any of my pieces. So, I'll sit down at the wheel and throw some bowls, reminding myself that it's good to have some around to donate for Empty Bowls. I do throw cups for the Studio Tours simply because I can't stand the idea of using throw away cups for the cider and wine that I serve. I sell them cheap because they don't really match and are thrown too thin or have a rim that dribbles.
When I tell people that I am a potter (not clay artist or ceramist), they immediately ask about dinner plates or soup mugs. I reply that I really don't make that sort of work because I don't enjoy it, and there are so many other folks who do it so much better than I ever could. I will talk about the artists who are represented in my own cupboard, why I like this potter's mugs or that one's bowls. Then these folks take a look at my work and try to figure out exactly what it's for. I feel compelled to be forthcoming about its lack of a specific function or else suggest some farfetched possible uses. Umm, one customer said she was going to use it for flatware...
I am completely content with not making traditionally functional pottery. I will still make bowls, not only because I believe in Empty Bowls and it feels good to donate, but because I really like trimming. I will still make cups for the Studio Tours twice a year, unless I have enough leftovers from the previous Tour. And I will continue to take suggestions from friendly folks as to how to use my pots. Lauren Bellero calls them "Room Jewelry".
As some of you know, we bought this beautiful piece of property with a somewhat less than pristine house. I'm not sure who is guilty of the modifications, but we are determined to fix them. We have plenty of "what were they thinking" moments and are occasionally stopped in our tracks. Whenever studio news seems to be running dry, I think I'll visit the spots in my house that make me scratch my head. 
The notes are from Ben. Following my instructions not to be disturbed, he would drop notes for me through the "vent", which is simply a rectangular hole in the floor, I suppose where some ductwork was going to go. 
Heading off May 2008
Home after 2 weeks away
As is her custom, she meowed yesterday morning to be let upstairs. Once we saw her, we immediately noticed that the right side of her face was very swollen, and she did not want to be held and petted. We suspected an abcess of some sort, but had to wait until this morning to get her to the vet. Sure enough, she had gotten into a tussle with another animal, got bit and developed an infection. Since we weren't sure exactly when her last round of shots was, they just gave her boosters for everything and dewormed her as well. $218 later, she is on the mend, but definitely looks worse for the wear. Poor kitty.
I wanted to post a couple of pictures from our holiday vacation. My father-in-law occasionally sings with some folks at a place called 
We we half right. The snow on the driveway was indeed mostly gone, however the ice was now 3-4" thick in places. Jay had thrown his back out shovelling on Christmas Eve, and was still sleeping on a heating pad and swallowing handfuls of Ibuprofen. I decided to take matters into my own hands.
My tool of choice was one of my favorites, and one I thought would be perfect for chipping the accumulated ice: my pickaxe. It did the trick, but after a couple of hours, my arms were so sore that I thought I'd need a straw to enjoy my New Year's Eve beverages. The pickaxe also left little chinks in the asphalt driveway, about which Jay was not pleased.
Jay is able to get the vehicles up and down the driveway, but I am not. So I threw a tantrum, insisting we park at the bottom whenever the forecast called for snow, so as not to pack down any more frozen precipitation, thus making it easier to clear and giving us a snowball's chance in Hell of ever parking at the house this winter. I got my way but am feeling pretty guilty, as Tuesday's snow never materialized, and Jay has had to walk both ways in the dark and beastly cold.