“And even though the moment passed me by, I still can’t turn away. All the dreams you never thought you’d lose, got lost along the way.” – Goo Goo Dolls
Waking up at 4:30am excited to go start throwing more pots gets me thinking about the Dream again; what it was like to feel like I was in the hunt, on the path. Maybe it really is never too late, says the sabbatical voice, the fake reality voice, the Never Never Land voice.
And then a couple pre-dawn hours in the gang studio by myself reminds me what I love most about the actual process of making pots; how sometimes those hours are the very best time possible. “I will use my time.”
I made a board of tumblrs — 10 x 8:30. If you’re going to make pots on Monday morning that you hope to bisk on Wednesday and load into a salt kiln on Friday, it’s hard to pick a better form than that, right?
I think they turned out pretty grand; five squared at the rim, loosely, with a round base shifting to four panels; perfect for stamps on one side, or alternating areas of slip. Five round; spiraling upwards, hopefully good to hold in the hand.
Took Maggie to school; breakfast sandwich; back for glazing. Flashing slips and glazes on another dozen pots, small bowls and teabowls — the first stuff off the wheel last week, good testers. Stirred up and sampled ten slips and half a dozen glazes from the embarrassment of riches left behind in the glaze room from past workshops. Like a kid in a candy store. Also some test tiles, everything carefully annotated in my running studio log. Observed the loading into the professionally built, soda only, crossdraft kiln — a beauty. Excited to see how it fires, and how it all comes out. Great to get some stuff into the kiln this soon. It’ll give me something to anchor the rest of my making time here against.
Had a visit from the esteemed Mr. Kline; really great to finally meet in person. And yes, like Frodo, he really is missing a finger. Or, at least, most of one, anyways. I’d kind of wondered if that was a very well-played running joke, but no.
The downside to getting up so early is the evening slog comes on quicker than usual; I was a walking zombie by about three o’clock, and really shouldn’t even be trying to write this now. But hell… If I can’t break the rules during sabbatical, when can I?