This one has been on the list in my head for a looooooong time; although to be fair, it is a long list. It finally came to be as part of a class project.
I have many, many repeat students at Portland Pottery. They know how to throw and slab build and attach handles; in many ways, they are grown-up potters! (They are, in fact, grown-ups, all; I am not currently teaching any kids classes.) It's easy for students, having gained enough skill that they are pleased with their results, to coast along at a static skill level. To break that plateau and insure that they continue learning and continue improving, I often create skill challenges to give them a little push.
This one was a challenge to make a pot that would be taller than 18", after firing. In my case I achieved this with three bottomless thrown cylinders stacked together - the bowl was fired separately. I haven't yet epoxied it in place. I intend to, but right now the fit of the foot into the rim of the stand is enough to keep it secure.
The exterior is unglazed, with just a little iron oxide to warm up to color of the clay.
A few weeks ago, after a long break from art fairs due to lack of an appropriate vehicle, I did a sidewalk show - the Portland Fine Craft Show. I worked like a mad bastard to get ready for the show, schlepped and hoisted and waited and smiled in what I hoped was a welcoming and not maniacal way during the show, and remembered the deep satisfaction that comes with art fairs.
I remembered: work is awesome. (A friend of mine is fond of saying, "Work is great. It's jobs that suck. " I know what he means!) Working your ass off for weeks and then seeing, directly, the reward for that work - that is a fabulous feeling. I also was reminded: I work better with a specific event or goal in mind. Or at least I work harder!
That is the way of it, with self-employment: you eat what you kill. Maybe that's why I always got restless, in conventional employment situations; it's hard to feel the direct connection between how hard you work and the rewards you reap.
With all that in mind, and with the trusty Grey Lady always ready for saddle or pack, I registered for another fair: Art on the Hill, put on by the Society of East End Artists at the East End Community School in Portland. This is the school at the end of the Portland peninsula that used to known as Jack Junior.
Summer's not even technically done yet, but with this goal in mind (and, of course, the Portland Pottery show, and the Holiday Pop up Shop) the urge to make is coming on strong. I know how events sneak up on me! Time can change from "more than plenty" to "oops too late!" in the space of a day. (Or, in the words of Hermione Granger's homework planner, ""Don't leave it till later, you big second-rater!"
One thing I hope I have learned from many years of self-employment is that even if you love your work, you gotta take a break. With that in mind, this past week has been my vacation! Other people taught my classes, and I took a break from all things pottery-related. Well - almost all things. I did spend an afternoon cleaning & organizing the studio so it would be ready when I am.
Instead, I did some hiking and some biking, and caught up on projects that have been nagging at my mind for some time. I cleaned out two big storage closets that seemed full but in fact still had plenty of space - just needed to be organized. I donated six bags of office clothing to Goodwill, despite a nagging superstitious fear that in doing so I may have precipitated some unforeseen event that will cause me to again have to get an office job.
Doug & I also just did some tooling around, visiting yard sales & junk shops, a favorite pasttime. One of those was one I visited in the spring, on my way to Blue Hill to deliver pots, and it was then that I encountered Fish Boy - a piece of yard statuary depicting a cherub embracing someone's ichthyologically incorrect idea of a fish.
I was immediately enchanted by Fish Boy, due to his charming oddity, but also because saving fish is Doug's business. He's a consultant for riverine ecosystem restoration. Fish Boy seemed made for us, but at $185 he ws right out of the budget. Nope, uh-uh, no way. So I reluctantly left him behind and went on my way.
Yesterday, when we returned to the junk barn (not sure it has a name), I remembered Fish Boy, and went to look; but he was gone from his place in a dusty corner. I mentioned this to Doug, and the Junk Barn lady heard me. She pointed out Fish Boy, out near the roadway, welcoming visitors. We had driven right past him.
I went out to look, and discovered that his price tag now read $48. This would still be a splurge for me, on something very silly. But I mean...it was so perfect.
I dragged Doug out to look at it with me. He declared it the ugliest thing he had ever seen. This just made Fish Boy more appealing to me. I went back in and asked the shop owner if there was any possibility that Fish Boy could be had for less.
"Forty dollars," came the answer.
Now Fish Boy enjoys a place of honor in my overgrown garden among the sedum and echinachea.
My vacation has been a marvel, and now I'm excited to get back to work.
I am always telling my students that saying no is a very useful skill as a potter. People hear you are taking pottery lessons, and they start asking you for things. Can you duplicate this item I found at Williams-Sonoma? Can you make sushi plates glazed to match the koi in my pond (yes, that happened)? Can you make me a stein with a hinged lid and a lion roaring on top?
I get requests all the time that I could maybe do, but I just...don't want to. I have reasons sometimes - my studio is not a good space to give lessons, for example. But this shirt is a reminder...I don't need a good reason. "I don't want to" is reason enough.