Blizzard of 2008
Today I tromped to the studio through the snow. The Trimet was only running the blue line, because all the switches were frozen. The roads were paved in ice, because the city seems to only have two snow plows. The cars had driven over the snow enough to make it a nice solid pack, except of course, on corners. I had to hike through the park and over a bridge. It wasn’t too bad, a couple people and some cross country skiers had broken the trail before me.
That was the funny thing… people on skis and snow shoes came out of the wood work. I was quite jealous a couple of times as I watched them glide (almost) effortlessly over the snow. Of course, if I had been on skis I wouldn’t have been able to kick large chunks of ice into the river; a childish past time that was entirely enjoyable.
Some people had reached the studio before me, but no one was there while I was. Fortunately, no frozen pipes or clay, though I think the glazes were getting close. I turned on the heat and loaded the kiln, then did some glaze tests.
Right now the kiln is broken, with the bottom elements out of commission. I had to load the kiln with a lot of open space at the bottom so that it would heat evenly… Or at least that was my plan. I’ve got a giant mixing bowl down in the bottom of the kiln, so I hope my theory works!
Solstice
Today was the solstice. This is my second year celebrating solstice formally. Informally I’ve been celebrating it for about 4 years now. As a person who suffers from Seasonal Affective Disorder, this day takes on an importance that is above almost any other day, so I honor it with ritual, mark its passing in celebration. My celebration is simple. I go outside, find a place to sit, smoke a cigar, and think.
I feel that I should tell you that this is the only time I smoke. There are plenty of good reasons not to smoke, the least of which is that I don’t enjoy it enough to really want to do it often. I’m also a bad smoker, my technique is a quick suck into my mouth and then out it goes, curls of white drifting into the sky. It seems appropriate though, to sit with a glowing ember and face the night.
I think about the year, about what has passed. About mistakes made and victories won. I thought about my stint at Paradise City. I took that on with only a month to the show, it was not enough time and I didn’t have enough experience to be able to handle such a high quality show. Really, I’m quite embarrassed by it, but I try not to dwell on it. I learned some very important things, now I just need to take those lessons with me and move on. I also made some great friends that weekend. Two people stepped out of their lives to help me and I will be forever grateful to Joan and John.
I miss the people from Dew Claw. John, Jason, Tom, Clayton, Bonnie, Joan, Judy, Aki… the crazy Russian Ladies… so many good people on the other side of the country.
I thought about the move to Portland. It has for the most part been a very good thing. I love this city and the people are so open and friendly. I’m making some real friends here, playing games with nerds and meeting potters at the studio. I even have some great Mud Team friends nearby, though I’ve not had the chance to meet them in person yet. There also seem to be some great artistic opportunities here, if only I can get myself to jump on them. I’m still finding my feet here, and I don’t yet feel ready to start showing my sculpture again. I will though.
There is also a MFA program I’m interested in. I’m going to go see the facilities next week to see if it’s a good fit for me. Imagine, someone finally had the idea to put together an MFA with business classes. That’s something I really need, if I want to get anywhere with my art. I really suck at this business thing.
Not all my thoughts are about the past and future. The experience of being outside with my cigar takes up some of my thoughts. The tingling on my tongue, the sharp surprise that comes when some of the smoke winds its way up into my nasal cavity. This year I also had a candle in a wreath, provided by my parents. It seemed wholly appropriate that I be imbibing flame tonight. I am a potter, fire is a part of my existence. It is an element that I identify with, and it burns so brightly in the darkness. So fluid and so present in the surreality of this cloudy night.
Today is the shortest day of the year. From here on out, the days get longer and depression rises from my shoulders as the sun rises in the sky. It is a new year, a new life.
Snow
Dagnabit. I thought Portland was supposed to get rain, not snow. I hate living in snow. Visiting is fine. Even better is visiting and then Skiing. However, living in it sucks.
So I couldn’t get to the studio today. This makes me sad. I like getting to the studio, and frankly, if I ever want to be as good as I want to be, I need to get to the studio more often. So tomorrow I’m going to the studio in the morning so I’ll have the sun to help me on my way. 
Shock and awe at the common past.
Holy crap. I’m in complete awe here. I don’t think I’ll ever be that good.
On kilns
The medium sized kiln at the studio is down. I happened to be there when the guy who owns the kiln was there , trying to figure out if it was the elements (heating coils) or a regulator. Unfortunately, because it was the bottom element, we couldn’t tell.
I made an offer on changing the elements in exchange for free firings. I might end up getting it. Changing elements is pretty damn easy. The only difficult part is not hurting the soft brick. So that would be pretty good for me. Since the elements are in need of a change anyhow, its looking pretty likely.
However, after looking at the chart and figuring out which regulator it was that was in question, I realize I would rather like to take an electrician course. It would be good to be able to wire my own kiln, instead of paying someone else to do it (and maybe getting paid by other people to do it as well!)
Studio Music
So I was working on some textured pieces today. As you might imagine from my pieces, poking all those holes is rather tedious.
I usually listen to NPR to give my mind something to work with while I use my hands. Hopefully it keeps me sharp, informed, and involved in the world.
Unfortunately, when I got to the studio someone else already had music playing. It was Jazz. Not that cool scat style, but that muzak elevator or upscale shopping center style. Where everything is so blended together and I can’t help but think of awfully boring shopping trips from when I was a kid. And then I was poking. So tedious… the second the guy left I changed it over to NPR.
Well, the guy came back. Didn’t say anything didn’t even seem to mind. Wasn’t paying attention until The World came on, and they were interviewing a woman, Mia Farrow, about her work in the Congo. She is interviewing women who have been raped by rebel bandits. They get no help. They won’t be treated by a doctor. The rebles are raping women ages 1 year old to 90.
Obviously upsetting stuff, and I want to figure out how to do something. I’m not sure what though, and thats not what I’m writing about now anyhow.
The guy came over in the middle of the broad cast wanting to change the channel because it was hindering his ability to concentrate. I politely refused to change the channel because I hoped there would be some information on how to help, because I can’t just turn my back on suffering… we should at least bare witness if nothing else. I didn’t tell him this, I just refused to change the channel until the segment was over. Then I changed it to classical music.
He later came over and apologized, but it really bothers me that someone would just turn off the radio because the women’s plight is disrupting his creative process. How can someone be so selfish and willfully blind?
…
and I wonder if there is some place where I have done the same?
Tomorrow
I’m doing a school sale tomorrow in Gresham. The Butler Creek Bazaar. I don’t know what to expect, other than I hope to sell some of my cheeper items. And maybe get snowed in. -_-’
In addition I recently won a charity auction at a local newspaper to get a review written about my work. Yeay! I’m going to be sharing my sculptural work with the reviewer. I’m going into the offices on Monday to figure out how this is going to work.
It got me thinking about Charity. I used my charity budget to do this, and yet I’m still getting something out of it. Does that mean its really MY charity or is it the charity of the person who would otherwise be getting the money? Does it count that I likely paid far too much for the article? Does that make it an act of charity on my part?
I was raised to believe that true charity is when you’re not getting anything at all in return beyond thanks and the warm fuzzies. Right now, in this economy and the way things are going for me I don’t feel like I can let that much money go without getting something back. I feel terrible saying that, and ashamed, yet it is the unfortunate truth. That doesn’t mean that I’ve not been donating other places. Just in smaller amounts, or in ceramics.
In the end I just feel glad that I got into a bidding war with someone at the end and therefore got to give more money than the item was really worth. I think.
Fighting the wonk.
My husband just got a new dog. Ok, we got the dog, but really it was for my husband who was really depressed (and also in denial about it.) I’m not a dog person. They’re too needy for my tastes, but Ironically, the dog seems to like me better than he likes my husband.
So now I have another excuse to just settle into my miserable winter shell. Napping with a warm dog on my belly (which is a nicer pass time than I anticipated.) Of course, it’ll make me feel much worse in the long run, but it’s still a hard thing to get up and go to the studio.
The funny thing is, the harder thing to do always makes me feel better in the long run. I think I must be a bit of a masochist just because that is always the case. Things that are too easy just don’t feel right to me. They don’t feel real or substantial. So forcing myself to go get on the train, go to the studio and throw really hit the spot yesterday, and I’m sure it’ll do it again today and tomorrow and the next day ad infinitum.
Thus my mantra- Anything worth having is worth working for.
Feeling wonky.
So I went to the studio yesterday, but didn’t get anything done. My clay wasn’t dry enough to work with. 
Anyhow, right now I’m fighting seasonal depression. I just plain feel bad when I don’t get enough light, and then I start worrying about philosophical conundrums.
For example: God. Lets say for the sake of argument that he exists. (She he, God is genderless.) Lets say that God made all this. Why? What is the point? Is it fulfilling to be entertainment for a deity? Or companionship? If we still continue on after we die, what are we doing? Is it going to be worth our time? Do we keep growing and changing or do we freeze into the person we were when we died, unable to change and unchallenged in our afterlives? To sum it all up, what is the point of the spiritual afterlife?
I’ve realized that there aren’t answers to these, and fankly the questions come riding in on waves of fear, dispair, and general unhappiness. Sounds like a lotta’ fun, don’t it?
So now we’re getting Dog. My husband kinda’ needs one. He’s also been really depressed, but he just didn’t realize how depressed. He thought he was OK. He wasn’t and I could tell it. So now in addition to gerbils we will have a little Italian Greyhound running around.
As for me I’m going to get my ass to the studio more often. If nothing else it lets me make things that will last forever and a half, even if those things are in pieces.
