Those of you who meet me usually see me when I’m at Poppies—cleaned up (relatively) and wearing a public (relatively) face, so I thought I’d give you a glimpse into what my studio life is like. Spoiler alert: if you are beginning to entertain visions of Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, my studio set is more akin to Silence of the Lambs than Ghost. In fact, sometimes when I walk down the driveway to check the mail, neighbors who wait at the stop sign visibly gawk, and I wonder if they imagine me a closeted serial killer or amateur butcher. In any case, I do what I love, and as I sit throwing pottery, I think about a good many things—some even have merit. Today as I was throwing sets of nesting bowls, I was contemplating the forms I like to throw and the clays and glazes I am drawn to. We seem to have some aesthetic preferences, like The Golden Ratio, hardwired; others get picked up along the way in this madcap circus of experience. When I was watching the red clay spin through my hands today, I got the notion that what I love about it is that even when it’s tamed and fired, I still feel its origins. Reminiscent of Sespe and Kayenta Sandstones, it is elemental and will never resemble or be mistaken for something woman-made, even though I had a hand in it. The material speaks for itself, and I am just along for the ride. If you want to say hello to the cleaned up version, I will be at @poppiesartandgifts Sunday from 11-1.
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