I Wish I Had Gone to the Mark Johnson Workshop...

...at Portland Pottery. What I was actually doing that day was bringing my dog to the neurologist. This was a waste of time, as it turned out that the scan alone cost more (by far) than I make in a month; I wouldn't do it if it were for me. We are treating him medically instead, and so far, he seems to be responding. (We did try a chiropractic approach, but gave it up in favor of total kennel rest, so the affected disc can heal.) But I digress. What I started out to say was, a few of my students took the workshop, and came to class energized and full of ideas. I learned a technique from them that they got from Mark, and it makes me think how much I missed! Here's one of Mark's thrown and altered basket forms: It's a great shape, but I decided to re-interpret it as a serving bowl, as the greater utility appeals to me.

It has a sort of lingerie look that amuses me, like a secret joke. The next one I make might have handles that curve above the rim, in a nod to straps, as a camisole.

It begins as a flat bottomed bowl with sides angled outward halfway up, then becoming vertical. I made three deep rings with the corner of my rib, as the way the lines come together after the alteration is all the fun. The bottom was a bit heavy, but I didn't feel much like trimming it (for some reason!) so I angle-cut some implied feet. I'd be happy to show you those, but it was right about then that my camera gave up the ghost. Is there an echo in here? It seems like I've typed words to that effect before, and not that long ago.

Anyway, glad I got enough shots to finish this post. And if you have a chance to see Mark Johnson do his stuff, take it!

Dog Story

A couple of years ago, my husband and I adopted a dog. Not entirely by choice, but it has nevertheless worked out pretty well. He has an oddball name, given him by my brother-in-law, but to spare explanations I just sort of nicknamed him Q. This pleases me because it is the initial of his actual name (Queequeg) and because it is the name of a recurring Star Trek villain (or anti-hero, perhaps?)

I promise I am going somewhere with this.

Anyway, Q has recently taken to running. We often keep him off leash in the yard, but lately -- and only after dark -- he has been waiting for a moment when no one is looking, and disappearing. He is a wily dog, and knows that if we find him, the fun is over; so we've come to realize that combing the neighborhood calling for him is counter-productive at best, and brings him home no sooner than lying in bed staring at the ceiling and praying he doesn't get hit by a car, encounter a coyote, eat something poisonous, etc. He returns sometime between 3 and 5 am. This has happened maybe six times in the last two months; though he has now lost his off-leash privileges, last night he escaped when the knot holding his rope to the porch failed. I refuse to believe that he untied it, but I know he would if he could.

(Not to get too far off on a tangent, but I feel I need to say, it's not like he's stuck in the house, pent up and bored all the time. He gets two, or more, long walks every day; he is free to run the 30 acres of Watershed, and play with the resident pooches, when I fire the kilns there; just yesterday he spent the day with me at Kennebec River Artisans to reprise his role as store greeter. He really has no excuse.)

Enormous procrastinator that I am, I wind up kicking myself that I've not yet gotten one of those tags made with our contact information. I always swear I will do it, while he is missing, and then forget about it after he comes back. While waiting for him last night, I had a bright idea: why don't I make him a name tag? Might as well do something useful since I won't be sleeping anyway. So I got up, trundled to the studio in my jammies (Yay for having my studio in the house!) and set to work. Something not too heavy, with no sharp edges; I think I still have some alphabet pasta around here? Here's what I came up with:

I felt a little silly doing it, but I obscured the number because it seemed like a poor idea to post it on the internet. Not that we ever answer the phone anyway. Much to my surprise, there are no 6s in alphabet pasta. No Is either. A disproportionate number of 8s. Still, nothing I couldn't work around. After I made this one (and Q still was not home) I thought, maybe other pet owners would like something a little more stylish than those metal bone-shapes with stamped number, so I made a sample:

I famously hate custom work, of course, but this feels different. Custom dog tags! I'm doing it.

Q is home again, and now secured to a chain instead of a rope. He knows I am pissed off, but I can't stay mad for long. (He knows that, too.) I might have made a mistake, giving him such a mischeivious namesake.