primalmommy on tue 18 jul 06
Tony wrote:
"One person that I can think of that had better
not have chip dips and pad pots( I luv to tease ya about those pots) in
their Graduate Show is you. If you want that job in the university and
you make those pots then my money is on the hot shot from Tennessee
stealing
your dream job."
See, Tony, you've got it bass-ackward. I don't go to school to make pad
pots, I make the pad pots to PAY for gas and school books.
I am actually pretty excited about the pressure of a graduate show,
though... I have thislove-hate relationship with pressure and deadlines.
And I am heeding the advice of clayarters who say, "Evolve, experiment,
explore -- don't leave the MFA doing the same work you have always
done". I can only imagine what I will be doing in 08. I am clearing the
shelves, letting go of identifying with my old work. I don't want to be
like Lee's quote about the zen student with the tea cup already full,
asking the teacher to pour.
But then there are other wise voices saying, "learn something you can
use when you graduate." When I read your mentions of how few MFAs
continue to make art, I think of the "MFA orphans" I have met, coming
out of programs with great wood and gas and anagama kilns, glaze labs,
able techs and unlimited budgets -- who then find themselves standing
next to an electric kiln in the garage with a few pints of ^6 glaze,
wondering how to start from scratch. A few of them emailed me after my
first clay times column, working out the angst of "just" electric
firing.
Not to mention the grads lost without glass furnaces, or a forge,or
darkroom, or whatever it takes to make the aesthetic they have cultured
for two or three years.
I have lots of time to think about it, though. This summer I'm reading,
extruding a bit, teaching private wheel students, making jam from the
last of the raspberries and trying to soak up the last weeks of the
season. There's still time to pick blueberries, can tomatoes, cook with
my littlest, play othello and chess, and plan for our camping trip to
Sleeping Bear Dunes during the perseid meteor showers.
As for the "university job" -- I already have my dream job. Three great
kids and a studio in the back yard. In '08 my Molly will be just 10, my
boys 12 and 14, and lord willin' and the creek don't rise, hubby's still
likely to be on staff at the local U, complete with bennies. Whether I'm
making for the palace or the kitchen cupboard, I'll hopefully be able to
sell my pots somewhere.
Anyway, I dunno about University jobs. It looks to me like too much hard
work, and a constant battle with bureaucracy, with so many good programs
bleeding money and a lot of the good perks (like tuition waivers for
kids) being phased out. It would have to be the right place, at the
right time. In a decade all my kids will be grown and gone.
So instead, I plan to take my family and live at Stephani's Pottery Dude
Ranch. My kids can get summer jobs apprenticing to potters. We'll build
a little solar cottage down by the clothing-optional hot spring:
"Savino's studio and organic garden:
Fresh eggs and free range children".
I'll set up a little shop and sell honey pots with my own honey, bread
tiles with my own bread, jam pots with my own jam. Pad pots with sets of
bright batik pads, hand-sewn by stay-at-home granola moms.
You can have the palace. I've been all over Europe as a college kid and
have seen more palaces than I can keep straight. Some of the art is
nice, but palaces are cold, and stuffy, and dark. And a little spooky.
There's always a dungeon, or portaits of stiff, wall-eyed, inbred royals
laced into ornate costume, glaring at the lowly tourist-commoners
traipsing through their halls...
Me, I like the peasants, the blacksmith and baker, the veggie garden and
beer garden, the wenches with dirty nails that laugh too loud and work
hard and look after each other. They can drink out of my mugs and bake
in my casseroles any day.
I don't plan to make chip-and-dips and pad pots for my graduate show,
but here's a bet: If I come out of the MFA looking down my nose at
functional pots, I'll show up in your driveway, make a hundred pound
lasagna in one of your casseroles, and feed your whole neighborhood. And
here it is in the archives for all of eternity, so remind me.
As for Patrick Green, the hot shot from Tennessee -- he's got
determination and enthusiasm, and is about half my age. Reem from Libya
is all of that, and she's drop-dead gorgeous to boot. I get the feeling
we all have a lot to learn from each other -- and if I were not so
intent on enjoying the rest summer, I'd be itching to get started.
Yours
Kelly in Ohio -- everyone in the house sound asleep, including the cat
in my lap.
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