Tony mindling on wed 9 oct 02
Oaxacan Clay Workshop. Monday, Day 9.
All great events should have a grand finale. Nine days in Oaxaca, no matter
what you are doing, is a great event. If you are a potter, nine days of
muddy hands, eyes full of smoke and surrounded by beauty, tradition and
masters in clay has all the makings of heaven.
Today is our grand finale. Our precious, hand polished red bowls will soak
up the heat of the sun all morning, so that when we return to San Marcos,
like a home coming, they will be ready to meet the fire. Our teachers and
most of the household will build a specially crafted bonfire of wood and
pottery, everyone lending a hand and one master directing the placement.
Then, from the kitchen, held in a shovel, will come the hot coals that will
ignite the cornhusks and bed of wood under the pots. White smoke begins to
spill out of the piled wood and then flames chase the smoke away and the
heat becomes intense. We move back to the edges of the courtyard, hide in
the shadows that are stretching into afternoon and watch two women with long
poles, the stalks of century plants, poke and adjust the fire. Their faces
are red, there are beads of sweat on their foreheads. They run at the fire
with handfuls of thin wood or agave blades, shielding their face with one
hand as they throw the fuel onto the bonfire.
We would like to help, but the truth is that sometimes it is better to stay
out of the way. To us it looks like a huge, searing bonfire; to them it is a
picture of hot and cold, wind exposure and gaps. We don't have this eye, so
we do better to hide in the afternoon shadows and watch the flames do their
work on our little bowls.
There is more, the anticipation and excitement of finding what comes out of
the ashes, the sadness of knowing the time for a final farewell is coming,
gifts, hugs, a last look at this courtyard and these people who have become
so familiar. We pull ourselves away, climb into our metal time machine and
head out through the fields of red soil, down the dusty dirt road in soft
afternoon light as we point our travels north again, north to the city of
Oaxaca, asphalt, stoplights, airports, winter chill and a pace of living 500
years beyond the village we just left behind us relaxing into the blue light
of dusk, white smoke still painting spirals in the quiet courtyard as it
rises lazily from the embers.
EL FIN.
If you want to smell some of that smoke drop Eric a line rayeric@RNET.com.mx
or take a peek at www.manos-de-oaxaca.com.
Session 1: Feb 2-10, 2003
Session 2: March 16-24, 2003
Short Course: December 15-21, 2002
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