Day 22: @Klinehaus

“Hi. Can I ask you a question? Before you answer, let me ask you another question.” – Merlin Mann

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Dear Pottery Bloggers,

Envious yet? If not, this one should do it.

Cindy and I got to spend a good chunk of the day hanging around with MK (a.k.a. Frodo, The Esteemed Mr. Kline, Klineola, etc.) at his place just a few miles down the (winding, mountain) road from P-land.

As anyone who’s ever had an “open” studio knows, there are several versions of the studio tour: the Drive-By, the Stop In, the Have a Chat, the 60-Minute Special, and the Grand Tour; the last of which consists of something like a few hours of intense conversation interspersed with a detailed investigation of showroom, studio, kiln shed, property and house; includes a homecooked meal, and is generally followed by transacting for a small stash of pots before apologizing for blowing most of the day and beating a retreat, the whole way home saying to one another, “That was amazing!” and “Why don’t we do that more often?”

Needless to say, we were privileged to something like the Grand version today, and it was… well, in a word, grand.

(I suppose there’s even something beyond that — say the Grand Mal Tour (you know, because it’s mind blowing)(sorry) — in which you have multiple meals and then drinks and end up around a campfire looking at the stars and talking shit about how big the universe is or something, but that probably happens rarely amongst people who aren’t already old friends or playing romanticized roles in some dumb movie.)

Anyways…

So I got the play the role of ” don’t be creepy” blog fan; to look around going “Oh yeah, this looks familiar” and “I remember when you wrote about this thing here”, which, since Michael and I had laughed at this phenomenon the other day, had a tasty meta layer to it. (Nothing like blog nerds getting together “IRL” and talking about their blogs. Ugh… I kind of hate myself for enjoying that as much as I must confess that I do.)

I also got to see a metric ton of really excellent pots, many of them verging on flat out amazing. The showroom was overloaded with pots I’d love to own, and Cindy and I really had to work at it to settle on a few mutual favorites. It will be a great pleasure to have more MK pots at home to use and study.

Then there was the “close but no cigar” pile; which is always an education in what the potter was going for, where those pieces came up short and by how much, talk of technical glitches and aesthetic also-rans… somehow that’s another layer of pottery heaven.

And, of course, the personal collection, from dirty coffee mugs scattered around the studio (including, gratifyingly, one of mine — and it didn’t even appear to have been placed there strategically in anticipation of my visit), to an open kitchen cupboard with literally months worth of information stored in the clay there, to shelves and cabinets and things on the floor around the house; the collective physical manifestation of two artists’ acquisitions and curatorial preferences, compiled and layered over years of domestic life. Often, stepping into another artists’ home is like a reassuring brush with the truth that we’re not the crazy ones; that it’s the rest of the aesthetically bankrupt world that’s got it wrong. I love that.

Ah, my god. I could go on and on. And of course, there are photos — where are the damn photos, Cooper, right?! — but alas, they are lingering on the memory card of a physical camera someplace, just a few hops too many away from the Internet for me to dig through them and come up with a few representative frames just now. Later, I promise. (Also, since Cindy was doing the shooting, and I frequently felt the hot, self-conscious vortex of the lens aimed in my (and MK’s) direction, I expect there will be some good ones.)(If I cared about blog traffic — news flash: I really don’t — I believe that’s what those in the biz refer to as a “teaser”.)

Ah… the stuff I’ve already missed: Jack the dog, the scythe, the clay pit, like Jack Troy’s vision made real; venison chili, those Sam Taylor pots — jesus do I need to get me some of those — that one little, narrow, casually fluted and oh so lovely cup by St. Simon himself; plates with sweet little pictures carved in by young hands; talk about so many things, the intertwining, unremembered but cherished thread of a conversation that fuels itself and seems endless, never enough time or breath to touch every idea or say it all; the landscape — those mountains, trees, sky, dirt, a place with a very strong sense of place; a Ruggles & Rankin pitcher that I just might commit a crime to possess; a tile floor that’s definitely going to set an expectation with the wife; the indecision over which big pot to choose, where and how to crack open the war chest and make our stance on what represents our ideas about which pots are worth owning the most, which objects we want to personally encourage the world to generate more of. My oh my.

What a day.

Oh yeah, and: Teeerpstra!

Day 21: Caveat

“Look me in the eye and tell me /
That I’m satisfied.” – The Replacements

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But of course, it’s not really three days off, is it?

I set the alarm on Friday for 5:30, so I could get up to the studio to put all that greenware in proper position for drying through the weekend, and to splash glaze and wads on a dozen pots that might make it into another kiln, all before driving out of town. And later tonight, after we drive most of the day, I’ll go back to load up a bisk, so it can fire off overnight, in time to unload late Monday, glaze Tuesday and load Wednesday, and fire Thursday so it can cool Friday and unload Saturday. Even in the most mundane of tasks and the most down of downtimes, we’re always thinking about our future pots.

Day 20: Respite

“Your will succumbs to a death by a thousand cuts.” – David McRaney

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Dear Penland Pot Shop,

Three weeks on, three days off…

that sounds about right.

Day 18.4: Bulk Bag

Dear Frodo,

The last two days have been great fun. Too much fun! Thanks for imbricating pots together, indulging my conversational agenda, and all the good feedback about my crazy future project ideas. We’ve got to do it again sometime. Should be easier, tomorrow, to get those auction mugs wrapped up tomorrow without me jabbering in your ear the entire time.

So my “bulk bag” experiment resulted in 31 pots started yesterday; so far 26 finished today, with five left to trim in the PM session. That’s not too shabby, and proof that I can indeed push the pace when I’m motivated to do so. That might come in handy later, back in the real world. It will be interesting to see if they are qualitatively different once the memory of the making process is gone. For example, I was really racing through those mug handles this afternoon, spending far less time fussing over each than I usually would (and with a good chunk of my attention elsewhere) — will it even show when they’re done? And if so, is it enough to make it worth spending an entire afternoon finishing, say, 12 mugs when I could finish 16 or 20 instead?

We’ll see. Maybe the slow pace I’ve acquiesced to isn’t the inevitability I thought it was. Maybe it’s as much a matter of context and intent as destiny. Maybe I need to take the 80 Cup Challenge to find out where the outer limits really lie. Like my Dad always said, “If you’re going to dream, you may as well dream big.”

Seeya,
Uncle B.

Day 18.3: Klineola in the house

Word.

Day 18.2: 12×12

[finished, that is]:

Day 18.1: chasing plastic

“Woke up in my clothes again this morning. Don’t know exactly who I am.” – Sting

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Whoo boy. Gonna be a burner today:

Day 17: What is the sound of two bloggers potting?

“Comments weren’t enabled on Revolver.” – Merlin Mann

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Dear Gandalf,

I spent the day working, wheel by wheel, next to Mr. Frodo, and it was about as cool as the time you slew the Balrog. Man — and you thought you missed out the other day! (Well, of course, you did then, too. Both were grand. Sorry if that’s rubbing it in, but the truth will out, as they say.)

Today was like a miniature snapshot of how the original idea would have turned out; or hopefully a preview of what it will be like when we manage to actually pull this thing off someday. So great. Lots of talk about blogs and podcasts, of course, and about the web magazine we’re going to start — more on your first writing assignment later — but also pots and kilns, stories of the good/bad old days, further bits about St. Michael, (Simon, that is), etc.

I tried to match him cup for cup, but even with the benefit of an extra finger I failed miserably; 27 for the day to his 29 in a couple hours less. (And neither of us managed 12×12, but things got rolling in the afternoon.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve done anything like that; probably not since throwing alongside my buddy Daryl B. at the potters’ guild in Boulder 16 years ago. (There was some of that in grad school, but always a little weird and constrained. Like roommates of circumstance, we knew we were stalled next to one another for the long haul, which encouraged some probably wise reticence about getting too friendly.)

Anyways, it was a blast, and a fine way to spend what’s likely to be my last throwing day here. (I’m aiming to go back over and finish off my last bag of clay tonight after Maggie Mags is out — don’t be creepy — so I may still get over 30 for the day.)

[Sorry no pix; didn’t have a camera, but he took some, so I suspect they might make their way onto the Interwebs here shortly.]

Tomorrow’s going to be bonkers, with around 30 pots to finish, and another small batch to get glazed… Whew. I think I can do it!

Goddamn, do I ever love making pots.

Hi to the dwarves for me.

Yours,
B.

Day 16-3: Blurg; I’ve already been awake for 15 hours

“Perhaps there are peaks above perfection that can be achieved only by accepting a certain amount of imperfection.” – Julian Baggini

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Dear Carter,

I suppose you heard about my little spat with Ceramics earlier. Got a little ugly, I must admit. Some things were said that can’t really be unsaid; feelings hurt on both sides. But I’m not too worried. We’ll get over it. Today at 4am was one of those times where you’re either going to quit or go crank through a bunch of clay, and happily I chose the latter. A pretty good day, all in all, being a little tired-punchy notwithstanding. Oh yeah, and remind me to tell you about my hang out with the esteemed Misters Philbeck and Kline yesterday. Pretty great. I can’t remember the last time I sat around for a couple hours, in person, shooting the shit with other potters I genuinely admire. Perhaps years. The Internet is still super great and all, but it will always be a poor substitute for the real thing.

Anyways, a few pots to check on tonight, a bisk to babysit a little, then hopefully a few more days of wet clay here before it’s time to slay that damn dragon, pack up our loot and head back towards the Shire.

Cheers.

Day 16-2: appologia

“I could live without so much, I could die without a dream.” – The Replacements

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Dear Ceramics,

Me again.

I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean it. I take it all back. (Well, maybe not the part about the firing cracks, but still…)

It’s not you, it’s me. Really. Well, OK, not really. But it’s at least some of both of us. You’re tough and alluring and so hard to please; I’m stubborn and dumb and just want my wishes to magically come true in fired earth. Is that so wrong?

Maybe.

Anyways, if it’s not too late, let’s just forget that last post happened and move on, shall we? I’ve been a faithful adherent for almost 20 years now — surely that earns me one brief episode straying from the path. Right? Right?