Geoff on thu 11 jul 02
Hello Marilynn,
Your discovery reminded me of my VERY early days in clay. It was the late 60
's and I'd been infected with the clay virus badly.
My Dear (now sadly departed and much missed) Uncle Jack (he was everybody's
Uncle Jack) had made me a wheel from a collection of scrap parts, but based
around the innards of a long-dead washing machine. It stood proudly on three
flared metal legs with a span of less than a foot, but was extraordinary
stable despite its weird design. Changing speeds was interesting to say the
least, and entailed switching off the motor (again, salvaged from a washing
machine) and shifting the drive belts to a pair of pullies with a more
suitable ratio. Strong! My God that thing had the power! Sadly, however, it
was killed - crushed to death by part of a house.
You see, I'd reckoned that I could solve two problems at once. I liked the
idea of using clay I'd found and prepared myself. Young and virile, the work
didn't bother me, nor the practicality of it all, for that matter. It so
happened that my parents' house was built on "clay" and, being built on a
slope, was elevated at the rear (below my bedroom, as it happened).
This space would be ideal for a studio, it occurred to me, and I could add
value to the oldies' house as well! Not only that, but the clay I would
excavate would provide me with most of my raw materials for at least a year!
Win, Win!
Mother, although always keen to promote the dreams of "her boys", was only
tentatively keen on the concept, but finally caved in under the pressure of
my convincing persuasions.
For weeks I spent spare time digging out my precious resource, ever
enlarging the cavity that was to become my beloved studio, occasionally
taking time off to entertain the neighbourhood children with demonstrations
of my "prowess" on Uncle Jack's splendid mechanical devise. I was in Heaven!
How cruel, though, can Mother Nature be? With excavations approaching
completion - the studio taking shape superbly - the "groundwork" (so to
speak) almost complete, the Heavens opened. A summer storm, the likes of
which had not been seen for generations, fell like the waters of Niagara
Falls upon an unsuspecting family. Of course, I was to arrive hours after
this torrential downpour to discover the damage.
>From the front, the oldie's house appeared fairly normal. Of course, there
were too many leaves on the roof, and water across the roads during the
drive, but nothing too much out of the ordinary caught my attention
immediately. That is, as long as one doesn't count Mother flailing her arms
about like a palm tree in a cyclone, gesticulating to a couple of men I didn
't recognise.
I suppose I should have guessed there was more than a little wrong when the
presence of Council truck prevented my parking in the oldie's driveway.
Normally a welcoming entrance, the front doorway was festooned with warning
tape forbidding entry. At least I knew everything was fine with Mother!
Time (very little of it, as it turned out) would reveal that this unusual
precipitation had saturated my beloved clay and filled my excavation,
providing a settling place for the pillars that supplied the support for my
bedroom. Probably suspended in mid air for at least some seconds, this third
(MY) bedroom simply fell off!
There's something to be said for renting from a State Housing Authority.
Not only was I never pursued for the damage bill resulting from my creative
adventure, but the house was repaired and better drainage added within less
than a fortnight.
My second studio I shared with a partner, 29 miles from my Parents' home.
Clay hugs,
Geoff.
Elca Branman on thu 11 jul 02
Most potters find it more labor efficient to burn down their studios
Elca Branman
On Thu, 11 Jul 2002 22:58:42 +1000 Geoff
writes:
> ,
had saturated my beloved clay and filled my excavation, providing a
settling place for the pillars that supplied the support for my
> bedroom. Probably suspended in mid air for at least some seconds,
> this third (MY) bedroom simply fell off!
>
>
>
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Elca Branman,in Sarasota Florida
elcab1@juno.com
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