Terrance Lazaroff on sun 30 mar 08
hi Teri;
It has been said that Beatrice Wood died at 104 years of age and she was
throwing pots the day before her demise.
What a way to go.
Terrance Lazaroff
visit Terry's website at http://www.clayart.ca
MT Hannigan on sun 30 mar 08
Mel, I can so relate to your post. Last year I went through a
period of freaking out about my progress in working with clay. I
found myself overwhelmed by the quantity, complexity and intensity of
my ideas, which still far exceeds my ability at any given moment.
The ideas felt like personalities in an endless line--
waiting...waiting...waiting to be expressed, addressed, acknowledged
in some way. I tried to keep track of them but never made any real
headway. I'd work compulsively to finish something, and damned if
five more annoying, pesky ideas didn't elbow their way into my
consciousness. My sense of order and resolution were continually
being attacked--would it never stop, and give me a break? If only I
were quicker! More skilled! It seemed as if I was always chasing
the train as it was leaving the station, never able to get on it and
coast to my next destination.
Then I had a bit of an epiphany. There is no coasting. I am never
going to finish it all. When I die, there will be a half-used tube
of toothpaste in my bathroom drawer, and two unused back-up tubes.
There will be a pile of clothes in the laundry room that I will not
have had the time to fold and put away. I will have just gone to
Costco and of the 96 rolls of toilet paper I bought, 93 will still be
left. A thick sheen of cat hair on the living room rug will glisten
in the afternoon sun because I will probably not have vacuumed in two
weeks (or more!). And in my little studio, two year old sketches of
ideas will be taped to the walls, fluttering among sealed bags of
moldy clay, half-finished pots and handle-less mugs. I will never
get to it all. And worrying about that encroaches on the joy of what
I'm doing now. So I've started letting go of the notion that
anything will ever be finished or complete or perfect. Yes, it still
whispers in my ear occasionally, but I pay less attention to it. And
guess what? I'm happier. Ignore-ance is bliss.
Teri Hannigan
Ann Brink on sun 30 mar 08
Hi Teri,
We all had better HOPE that's how it happens! I've seen the alternative in
the family...where health fails and you are DONE doing whatever you liked
doing and your house has to be sold and family members choose what they'd
like and sell or give away the rest; then you go to some kind of suitable
"place" and go from your bedroom to the Activity room to the Dining Room,
and back to the bedroom.
Your epiphany was a good one, and you made a vivid picture of it-thanks.
Ann Brink in Lompoc CA, unloading a glaze firing- the best of days.
(mostly about pottery)
> Then I had a bit of an epiphany. There is no coasting. I am never
> going to finish it all. When I die, there will be a half-used tube
> of toothpaste in my bathroom drawer, and two unused back-up tubes.
> There will be a pile of clothes in the laundry room that I will not
> have had the time to fold and put away. I will have just gone to
> Costco and of the 96 rolls of toilet paper I bought, 93 will still be
> left. A thick sheen of cat hair on the living room rug will glisten
> in the afternoon sun because I will probably not have vacuumed in two
> weeks (or more!). And in my little studio, two year old sketches of
> ideas will be taped to the walls, fluttering among sealed bags of
> moldy clay, half-finished pots and handle-less mugs. I will never
> get to it all. And worrying about that encroaches on the joy of what
> I'm doing now. So I've started letting go of the notion that
> anything will ever be finished or complete or perfect. Yes, it still
> whispers in my ear occasionally, but I pay less attention to it. And
> guess what? I'm happier. Ignore-ance is bliss.
>
> Teri Hannigan
>
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