Karen Sullivan on tue 5 dec 00
I live in a 100 year old miner's shack, about 200 sq. ft.
And space is limited, as are the creature comforts of the
20th century.
But, I walk out my front door into a stack of clay boxes,
which makes it easy to gauge the clay supply.
I make a left turn and stumble on glaze buckets three feet from
my front door, dodging
my box of black bamboo. Once past the bamboo, my wheel sits
under a pine tree. In the spring, a blue jay threw a piece
of toast at me...since then, I can take a hint, when he
skwalks I bring him food...He calls when hungry, even sitting
outside my kitchen window, watching me eat, asking me to share.
I must be a wimp, but when it gets cold, like in the 60's,
I work inside. I have a table set up in my livingroom,
next to the franklin stove. So I work next to the fire.
I am surrounded with the process of my clay making.
Anyone visiting, knows instantly what I do, it is
everywhere. Three kilns for gods sake...
So I look at apartment dwellers with curiosity.
I can't imagine it otherwise, but I would like more
room to work.
What is most significant in my life it an inanimate
material that has so much potential for animation, spirit,
history, personality, profound ideas...
I view my kiln as a treasure box, I put my effort and
ideas into the box and hopefully pull out riches to
sustain my continuing to spend my time making more.
I hope the best to all
bamboo karen
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