primalmommy on sat 17 mar 07
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. This is one of those nights when
morning seems like a week ago, and the last few days feel like a movie I
watched, or an epic dream full of exotic people, bewildering escalators
and hallway-mazes. I suppose it will all process, over the next few
days, and seem more real.
If I had a memory-tag to distinguish this NCECA from the others, it
would be "the year I was really tired and not much fun, but learned a
lot". I am sure there are some bleary-eyed digital photos of me out
there, lest you think I exaggerate. (I've been accused of exaggerating
sometimes. Can you IMAGINE?)
Wednesday night, as the arriving clayarters met in KY, I was at a
spelling bee in Toledo. My 13 year old son tied for 7th place in the
regional. We're all proud that he did so well, and quietly relieved that
he didn't win, so we don't have to figure out how to schedule/budget in
a trip to DC's nationals.
He correctly spelled vendetta, sputnik, precipitate, matriarch, and
egalitarian, and finally went out on zephyr. He's the redhead in photos
number 1 and 4 at
http://www.toledoblade.com/apps/pbcs.dll/artikkelNoCache=1&Dato=20070315
&Kategori=NEWS17&Lopenr=70315009&Ref=AR
We celebrated afterward, then took the kids home to bed. Just before
midnight, Jeff drove me to the Greyhound bus station in an especially
blighted part of downtown Toledo. I got the last available seat on a
very crowded bus. Having forgotten to bring earplugs, I spent 7 hours
bouncing and jolting, pretending to sleep, on a seat designed by some
sadist, with the bus heater stuck "on" (it was 86 degrees, no lie). I
got no more sleep than my fellow passengers (3 to 5 crying babies,
Charlie Manson's twin brother, some tubercular coughers, a few prison
transfers, and a variety of bored, arguing, crabby, malodorous, drunk or
otherwise unhappy people). I know some did manage to sleep, because the
stereo snoring almost drowned out the "whack-SNAP!" of the windshield
wipers and the seven hour cell phone conversation of the bus driver.
I promised myself that if, for some reason, my ride home with EMU grad
students fell through, I would just get an apartment in Louisville. I'd
find a job, call Jeff, and say "Raise the kids without me, I can't make
myself take a bus home."
I arrived in the dark at 6am Thursday, rolled my suitcase into the Galt
House lobby and was amazed to find Mark Issenberg and Alisa from Denmark
awake (at that freakish hour? I'll never understand people!) I got to
the room to find Stephani Stephenson just crawling out of bed to shower,
so I flopped face down onto her still warm pillow and slept for the
entire three days of the conference.
OK, well not really.
Due to the miracle of strong coffee, I managed to get to Marcia Selsor
and Stephani S's lecture/slide presentation on Moorish tiles, which was
an eyeful and had lots of interesting information as well. I made it to
a panel discussion on wood firing in an educational environment, by our
own rockin' Karen Terpstra, a guy named Casey Clark, and Tony Clennell's
prof from Utah, John Neely. (I managed to have a nice chat with him, and
get the scoop on hard-working Tony, who was badly missed this year!)
Lana Wilson was one of the presenters for a wonderful panel discussion
on balancing family and pottery. (Janis Mars Wunderlich, Adam Posnak and
Lee Puffer.) It was heartening to hear from moms and a dad who were
either working as studio artists or struggling through grad school
despite several head o' children, and insane schedule conflicts. We saw
slides of babies and pots, and I heard some observations that made me
want to stand up and shout, "AMEN!"
1.) It's easy to overcompensate. We can get so guilted out about the
possibility of falling short in either endeavor that we overdo on both
counts. Thus far, this had been my plan. There are days when I am
Mary-freakin'-poppins all morning at home, and then
potterwoman-on-steroids at school. Whether one can maintain this pace
for any period of time, though, is not yet clear. Stay tuned for nervous
breakdown, schedule to be announced.
2.) You're gonna miss stuff, so get over it. I can't watch Molly do
gymnastics, because it's my class night; the fam left for vacation a
week before me, because I was at school; my few local friends think I
was abducted by aliens last september. Meanwhile the grad students work
on weekends without me, go to gallery openings on campus, and plan for
firings while I am home doing laundry and helping with algebra.
3.) This is the good news: potterparents can develop the ability to use
time in a very efficient manner. This isn't necessarily a corporate,
productive notion: sometimes it can mean lying on the kitchen floor
making blue playdoh corrals for a child's yellow playdoh horses and
making up stories about them. But one of the moms pointed out that you
learn not to waste time on things that don't matter. Whatever you are
doing in your studio, it had damned well better be as important as your
kid. And when you're with your family instead of getting things done in
the studio, you don't take family time for granted. (In my life, TV is
not as valuable as pots or kids so it just doesn't get a turn.)
One mom said, "I worried that I couldn't keep up with the young, single,
childless students who could be there all the time. But some mornings
they would come in, make coffee, listen to NPR, hang around and wait to
get into work mode. Me, I was paying $8 an hour for a babysitter, so I
hit the ground running and got my money's worth."
Diana was at NCECA, of course, and so were many of the EMU grad students
I have come to think of as friends, family and sounding board. The
glamorous Reem from Libya is only weeks away from giving birth to baby
Selma. Joanne and Nancy were there, along with another Kelly I hadn't
met yet. Patrick was truly missed, and next year will be hog-tied,
thrown in the trunk and brought along, other responsibilities or no.
It was weird and wonderful to have the grad students stop by the clayart
room and meet my other "family". It was like the in laws meeting the
parents (when each group has heard tales about the other.) At least two
of the girls from EMU are going to join clayart now, and will join us in
the clayart room at NCECA next year.
The mug exchange went smoothly, and I would mention here whose lovely
piece I got, except I think it would be unbecoming of me. In fact, I can
hardly imagine gloating, or in any way acting smug about my good luck in
such a situation. It would be really shallow and immature. Don't you
think?
The "La Mesa" show of tableware was a wonderful opportunity to talk
about what we loved and hated and why, and I tend to survey everybody
about that lately.
Lee Burningham was everywhere with his clay crew of Utah high school
kids.
Billie and Nan outdid themselves with the clayart show at Gallery
Jojobe. (I finally saw it today... I missed the opening, due to the
greyhound bus from hell.)
I had wonderful dinners with wonderful people. One meal included my prof
(Diana Pancioli) and my first throwing instructor (Mel). They are both
big hearted, hard headed teacher types, who (like good parents) take
good care of me, but also call me on my bullshit.
Last night (was it just last night?) a bunch of us ended up at a Persian
restaurant called Saffron, where the food was delightful. I got to spend
some time blathering at David McBeth, the former teacher of my best
mfa-bud and sometimes-roomie Patrick Green. Jaqui from Wales tells nice
stories, and I sat across from another clayarter whose name I won't
mention, (coughchriscampbellcough) since folks will accuse me of
gloating about getting her cup at the mug exchange. That would just be
wrong.
It's hard to see people so briefly, and not have time to really
reconnect. My cliff-jumping buddies from Appalachian Center for Craft
are graduating and moving on to jobs and adventures, full of energy and
new ideas (and youth! sigh...) A lot of clayarters get a hug and then
the days are gone and there was never time to talk. People get on planes
and into taxis and disappear, before you can find them to say goodbye. I
wandered around today thinking, "Damn! I never got to talk to...(fill in
several blanks here.)" And now it will have to wait until next year. A
LOT of people were missing altogether, and there are always new faces
(to me, anyway.) One elusive one I wanted to meet, but only spotted in
flight.
I missed a lot this year, unlike past years when I felt I had to do
EVERYTHING. I missed our clayarters' too-early friday panels, though
they got great reviews. I never found the cup sale, and brought my sorry
cup home. I missed the bluegrass music at the Randall session, I missed
the day of bus tours, I missed the keynote lecture on the role of craft
(Diana said it was good.) There was no wench-dressing this year. I only
wandered down to the dance briefly and late, and for the first time in
all of life, just sat and watched. I was too pooped to dance.
But I am learning to accept that every choice un-chooses something else,
and that some things are missable. Instead of being in one place
thinking, "uh-oh, I'm missing the other option!", I kind of settle into
the moment. Yeah, I know I'm late and headed to the emerging artist
slides, but right now it feels good to stand in the lobby and gossip
with Edith Franklin. Be here, now.
I had every intention of sleeping at night, but conversations in the
dark ranged from MFAs to life histories to clay philosophies. And of
course there is that point when you get very, very tired and stupid
things become incredibly funny. The pre-dawn morning when I arrived, and
then again on wednesday night, the room was so dark when I tiptoed in,
that mystery roomie Kerry Brooks (of Dock 6) was just a dark lump under
the covers of her bed. Though we ended up in an all night bull session,
she was an early riser and I never knew what she actually looked like
until I met her in broad daylight Friday afternoon! Kerry, thanks for
bringing snacks, but those mini marshmallows were really stale. (What do
you mean, they were earplugs?)
Over all, it was a very goal-focused NCECA for me, more info-seeking
this year than social party. What I am hungry for these days is a wider
context for critical conversation about pots. As skilled as I have
become at "Diana would say", when it comes to looking at pottery, I have
a million questions in the back of my mind during critiques.
How much of what my prof says is considered true by general concensus,
and how much a matter of individual taste?
How much is her aesthetic influenced by Alfred, by the crits of her own
teachers, by her biases?
What might another prof say about the same pot? (My worst illogical fear
is that they might disagree on every point, and thus "good pottery"
really IS completely subjective.)
So I could not have had happier luck than I did today. The place was an
abandoned Louisville stoneware factory that has been transformed into
studio space, gallery space and shops. The show we students went to see
with our prof was the one with bourbon bottles, and a lot of other
nceca-chosen work.. and across the way, a student/faculty show from area
colleges.
I moved from pedestal to pedestal, just taking it in and measuring my
reactions. There are layers: gut reaction (wow! or eeewwww!) -- then
cerebral reaction (speculation: how was it made, fired, glazed?) and the
inevitable crit, "WWDS? (what would Diana say?) This time, though, she
was nearby enough to ask.
Later, I looked up and saw three potters whose skills I respect -- Vince
Pitelka, David Hendley and Dave McBeth -- walking into the gallery. Now,
I am way too grown up to have heroes, but I can't help myself. I was
always the little kid with a half-crush on teacher, the gushing geek
asking authors for autographs, the fan in the front row at concerts.
While these three guys feel like friends, I think they are impressively
smart.. and today, they could help me settle in my own mind those
questions about what makes a good pot, and who says so.
So I learned. I followed, watched them reach out and rock a boat-bowl or
casserole with a warped bottom, tsk over an ill fitting lid, or make
happy sounds about a nice form. I started following them around like an
annoying little sister, interrogating. You said you like this. Why? You
don't like this. Why not?
Some combination of the three-profs-and-one-real-studio-potter went from
pot to pot, talking about what works and what doesn't, what's strong and
weak, what you forgive and what you can't.
I was both enlightened and reassured to discover that these guys -- from
different regions, academic-or-not traditions, and experiences -- said
mostly the same things MY prof would have said. While they had different
tastes and favorites, and disagreed over nuances, a flaw was still a
flaw in everybody's book.
Next month (on Friday the 13th) at Eastern, I have my mid program
review. I will have to defend my MFA progress thus far to a committee of
art department profs, present and defend an artist's statement, and
justify my qualifications to continue and complete MFA next year. I've
been nervous about it, especially since there are no potters/ceramics
profs on the committee.
Today, though, made up for it. I have spent the better part of a year
trying to see what makes pots good or bad, and in order to see it, I
have had to learn to put it to words. Diana speaks fluent critique, and
I am at the phrase book stage. Today was kind of a breakthrough for me,
to be in a group of people who are fluent in the language of "why" when
it comes to pots. I'm thinking of this afternoon as a meeting with my
dream team MFA committee, all potters with a good eye and a willingness
to talk about pots. I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to sic them on my
pots yet.
The long drive home with the EMU girls was a perfect wind-down. The
first few hours' were for NCECA post-game summary and commentary, and
the last few hours were plans for upcoming firings and projects, pots
and installations. Dannon, you were right... I needed this! How a four
day span can simultaneously drain your body and recharge your soul is
just a wonder.
Now it's 3am, again, and I will never catch up on sleep. I trust that
clayarters are for the most part safe at home, that the freezing rain in
the East won't strand Alisa forever, that somebody will post NCECA pix
for us to enjoy with morning coffee.
May the folks who offered stories, hugs, beers, tips, meals, advice,
jelly beans, support, cookies, directions, pots, a patient ear, and
other generosities -- (with me, or with anybody) -- know they are good
souls and deserve whatever blessings Karma brings their way.
(My very tired version of "I love you guys"...)
Yours
Kelly, back in Ohio, with kids who missed me, and an appreciative
husband.
http://www.primalpotter.com
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Lisa E on sun 18 mar 07
Kelly;
Thank you so much for sharing. I feel like I was there with you! I hope to
get there one year!!!
Hopefully you will eventually catch up on your sleep!
Lisa in Canada
On 3/17/07, primalmommy wrote:
>
> Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. This is one of those nights when
> morning seems like a week ago, and the last few days feel like a movie I
> watched, or an epic dream full of exotic people, bewildering escalators
> and hallway-mazes. I suppose it will all process, over the next few
> days, and seem more real.
>
> If I had a memory-tag to distinguish this NCECA from the others, it
> would be "the year I was really tired and not much fun, but learned a
> lot". I am sure there are some bleary-eyed digital photos of me out
> there, lest you think I exaggerate. (I've been accused of exaggerating
> sometimes. Can you IMAGINE?)
>
> Wednesday night, as the arriving clayarters met in KY, I was at a
> spelling bee in Toledo. My 13 year old son tied for 7th place in the
> regional. We're all proud that he did so well, and quietly relieved that
> he didn't win, so we don't have to figure out how to schedule/budget in
> a trip to DC's nationals.
>
> He correctly spelled vendetta, sputnik, precipitate, matriarch, and
> egalitarian, and finally went out on zephyr. He's the redhead in photos
> number 1 and 4 at
> http://www.toledoblade.com/apps/pbcs.dll/artikkelNoCache=1&Dato=20070315
> &Kategori=NEWS17&Lopenr=70315009&Ref=AR
>
> We celebrated afterward, then took the kids home to bed. Just before
> midnight, Jeff drove me to the Greyhound bus station in an especially
> blighted part of downtown Toledo. I got the last available seat on a
> very crowded bus. Having forgotten to bring earplugs, I spent 7 hours
> bouncing and jolting, pretending to sleep, on a seat designed by some
> sadist, with the bus heater stuck "on" (it was 86 degrees, no lie). I
> got no more sleep than my fellow passengers (3 to 5 crying babies,
> Charlie Manson's twin brother, some tubercular coughers, a few prison
> transfers, and a variety of bored, arguing, crabby, malodorous, drunk or
> otherwise unhappy people). I know some did manage to sleep, because the
> stereo snoring almost drowned out the "whack-SNAP!" of the windshield
> wipers and the seven hour cell phone conversation of the bus driver.
>
> I promised myself that if, for some reason, my ride home with EMU grad
> students fell through, I would just get an apartment in Louisville. I'd
> find a job, call Jeff, and say "Raise the kids without me, I can't make
> myself take a bus home."
>
> I arrived in the dark at 6am Thursday, rolled my suitcase into the Galt
> House lobby and was amazed to find Mark Issenberg and Alisa from Denmark
> awake (at that freakish hour? I'll never understand people!) I got to
> the room to find Stephani Stephenson just crawling out of bed to shower,
> so I flopped face down onto her still warm pillow and slept for the
> entire three days of the conference.
>
> OK, well not really.
>
> Due to the miracle of strong coffee, I managed to get to Marcia Selsor
> and Stephani S's lecture/slide presentation on Moorish tiles, which was
> an eyeful and had lots of interesting information as well. I made it to
> a panel discussion on wood firing in an educational environment, by our
> own rockin' Karen Terpstra, a guy named Casey Clark, and Tony Clennell's
> prof from Utah, John Neely. (I managed to have a nice chat with him, and
> get the scoop on hard-working Tony, who was badly missed this year!)
>
> Lana Wilson was one of the presenters for a wonderful panel discussion
> on balancing family and pottery. (Janis Mars Wunderlich, Adam Posnak and
> Lee Puffer.) It was heartening to hear from moms and a dad who were
> either working as studio artists or struggling through grad school
> despite several head o' children, and insane schedule conflicts. We saw
> slides of babies and pots, and I heard some observations that made me
> want to stand up and shout, "AMEN!"
>
> 1.) It's easy to overcompensate. We can get so guilted out about the
> possibility of falling short in either endeavor that we overdo on both
> counts. Thus far, this had been my plan. There are days when I am
> Mary-freakin'-poppins all morning at home, and then
> potterwoman-on-steroids at school. Whether one can maintain this pace
> for any period of time, though, is not yet clear. Stay tuned for nervous
> breakdown, schedule to be announced.
>
> 2.) You're gonna miss stuff, so get over it. I can't watch Molly do
> gymnastics, because it's my class night; the fam left for vacation a
> week before me, because I was at school; my few local friends think I
> was abducted by aliens last september. Meanwhile the grad students work
> on weekends without me, go to gallery openings on campus, and plan for
> firings while I am home doing laundry and helping with algebra.
>
> 3.) This is the good news: potterparents can develop the ability to use
> time in a very efficient manner. This isn't necessarily a corporate,
> productive notion: sometimes it can mean lying on the kitchen floor
> making blue playdoh corrals for a child's yellow playdoh horses and
> making up stories about them. But one of the moms pointed out that you
> learn not to waste time on things that don't matter. Whatever you are
> doing in your studio, it had damned well better be as important as your
> kid. And when you're with your family instead of getting things done in
> the studio, you don't take family time for granted. (In my life, TV is
> not as valuable as pots or kids so it just doesn't get a turn.)
>
> One mom said, "I worried that I couldn't keep up with the young, single,
> childless students who could be there all the time. But some mornings
> they would come in, make coffee, listen to NPR, hang around and wait to
> get into work mode. Me, I was paying $8 an hour for a babysitter, so I
> hit the ground running and got my money's worth."
>
> Diana was at NCECA, of course, and so were many of the EMU grad students
> I have come to think of as friends, family and sounding board. The
> glamorous Reem from Libya is only weeks away from giving birth to baby
> Selma. Joanne and Nancy were there, along with another Kelly I hadn't
> met yet. Patrick was truly missed, and next year will be hog-tied,
> thrown in the trunk and brought along, other responsibilities or no.
>
> It was weird and wonderful to have the grad students stop by the clayart
> room and meet my other "family". It was like the in laws meeting the
> parents (when each group has heard tales about the other.) At least two
> of the girls from EMU are going to join clayart now, and will join us in
> the clayart room at NCECA next year.
>
> The mug exchange went smoothly, and I would mention here whose lovely
> piece I got, except I think it would be unbecoming of me. In fact, I can
> hardly imagine gloating, or in any way acting smug about my good luck in
> such a situation. It would be really shallow and immature. Don't you
> think?
>
> The "La Mesa" show of tableware was a wonderful opportunity to talk
> about what we loved and hated and why, and I tend to survey everybody
> about that lately.
>
> Lee Burningham was everywhere with his clay crew of Utah high school
> kids.
>
> Billie and Nan outdid themselves with the clayart show at Gallery
> Jojobe. (I finally saw it today... I missed the opening, due to the
> greyhound bus from hell.)
>
> I had wonderful dinners with wonderful people. One meal included my prof
> (Diana Pancioli) and my first throwing instructor (Mel). They are both
> big hearted, hard headed teacher types, who (like good parents) take
> good care of me, but also call me on my bullshit.
>
> Last night (was it just last night?) a bunch of us ended up at a Persian
> restaurant called Saffron, where the food was delightful. I got to spend
> some time blathering at David McBeth, the former teacher of my best
> mfa-bud and sometimes-roomie Patrick Green. Jaqui from Wales tells nice
> stories, and I sat across from another clayarter whose name I won't
> mention, (coughchriscampbellcough) since folks will accuse me of
> gloating about getting her cup at the mug exchange. That would just be
> wrong.
>
> It's hard to see people so briefly, and not have time to really
> reconnect. My cliff-jumping buddies from Appalachian Center for Craft
> are graduating and moving on to jobs and adventures, full of energy and
> new ideas (and youth! sigh...) A lot of clayarters get a hug and then
> the days are gone and there was never time to talk. People get on planes
> and into taxis and disappear, before you can find them to say goodbye. I
> wandered around today thinking, "Damn! I never got to talk to...(fill in
> several blanks here.)" And now it will have to wait until next year. A
> LOT of people were missing altogether, and there are always new faces
> (to me, anyway.) One elusive one I wanted to meet, but only spotted in
> flight.
>
> I missed a lot this year, unlike past years when I felt I had to do
> EVERYTHING. I missed our clayarters' too-early friday panels, though
> they got great reviews. I never found the cup sale, and brought my sorry
> cup home. I missed the bluegrass music at the Randall session, I missed
> the day of bus tours, I missed the keynote lecture on the role of craft
> (Diana said it was good.) There was no wench-dressing this year. I only
> wandered down to the dance briefly and late, and for the first time in
> all of life, just sat and watched. I was too pooped to dance.
>
> But I am learning to accept that every choice un-chooses something else,
> and that some things are missable. Instead of being in one place
> thinking, "uh-oh, I'm missing the other option!", I kind of settle into
> the moment. Yeah, I know I'm late and headed to the emerging artist
> slides, but right now it feels good to stand in the lobby and gossip
> with Edith Franklin. Be here, now.
>
> I had every intention of sleeping at night, but conversations in the
> dark ranged from MFAs to life histories to clay philosophies. And of
> course there is that point when you get very, very tired and stupid
> things become incredibly funny. The pre-dawn morning when I arrived, and
> then again on wednesday night, the room was so dark when I tiptoed in,
> that mystery roomie Kerry Brooks (of Dock 6) was just a dark lump under
> the covers of her bed. Though we ended up in an all night bull session,
> she was an early riser and I never knew what she actually looked like
> until I met her in broad daylight Friday afternoon! Kerry, thanks for
> bringing snacks, but those mini marshmallows were really stale. (What do
> you mean, they were earplugs?)
>
> Over all, it was a very goal-focused NCECA for me, more info-seeking
> this year than social party. What I am hungry for these days is a wider
> context for critical conversation about pots. As skilled as I have
> become at "Diana would say", when it comes to looking at pottery, I have
> a million questions in the back of my mind during critiques.
>
> How much of what my prof says is considered true by general concensus,
> and how much a matter of individual taste?
>
> How much is her aesthetic influenced by Alfred, by the crits of her own
> teachers, by her biases?
>
> What might another prof say about the same pot? (My worst illogical fear
> is that they might disagree on every point, and thus "good pottery"
> really IS completely subjective.)
>
> So I could not have had happier luck than I did today. The place was an
> abandoned Louisville stoneware factory that has been transformed into
> studio space, gallery space and shops. The show we students went to see
> with our prof was the one with bourbon bottles, and a lot of other
> nceca-chosen work.. and across the way, a student/faculty show from area
> colleges.
>
> I moved from pedestal to pedestal, just taking it in and measuring my
> reactions. There are layers: gut reaction (wow! or eeewwww!) -- then
> cerebral reaction (speculation: how was it made, fired, glazed?) and the
> inevitable crit, "WWDS? (what would Diana say?) This time, though, she
> was nearby enough to ask.
>
> Later, I looked up and saw three potters whose skills I respect -- Vince
> Pitelka, David Hendley and Dave McBeth -- walking into the gallery. Now,
> I am way too grown up to have heroes, but I can't help myself. I was
> always the little kid with a half-crush on teacher, the gushing geek
> asking authors for autographs, the fan in the front row at concerts.
> While these three guys feel like friends, I think they are impressively
> smart.. and today, they could help me settle in my own mind those
> questions about what makes a good pot, and who says so.
>
> So I learned. I followed, watched them reach out and rock a boat-bowl or
> casserole with a warped bottom, tsk over an ill fitting lid, or make
> happy sounds about a nice form. I started following them around like an
> annoying little sister, interrogating. You said you like this. Why? You
> don't like this. Why not?
>
> Some combination of the three-profs-and-one-real-studio-potter went from
> pot to pot, talking about what works and what doesn't, what's strong and
> weak, what you forgive and what you can't.
>
> I was both enlightened and reassured to discover that these guys -- from
> different regions, academic-or-not traditions, and experiences -- said
> mostly the same things MY prof would have said. While they had different
> tastes and favorites, and disagreed over nuances, a flaw was still a
> flaw in everybody's book.
>
> Next month (on Friday the 13th) at Eastern, I have my mid program
> review. I will have to defend my MFA progress thus far to a committee of
> art department profs, present and defend an artist's statement, and
> justify my qualifications to continue and complete MFA next year. I've
> been nervous about it, especially since there are no potters/ceramics
> profs on the committee.
>
> Today, though, made up for it. I have spent the better part of a year
> trying to see what makes pots good or bad, and in order to see it, I
> have had to learn to put it to words. Diana speaks fluent critique, and
> I am at the phrase book stage. Today was kind of a breakthrough for me,
> to be in a group of people who are fluent in the language of "why" when
> it comes to pots. I'm thinking of this afternoon as a meeting with my
> dream team MFA committee, all potters with a good eye and a willingness
> to talk about pots. I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to sic them on my
> pots yet.
>
> The long drive home with the EMU girls was a perfect wind-down. The
> first few hours' were for NCECA post-game summary and commentary, and
> the last few hours were plans for upcoming firings and projects, pots
> and installations. Dannon, you were right... I needed this! How a four
> day span can simultaneously drain your body and recharge your soul is
> just a wonder.
>
>
> Now it's 3am, again, and I will never catch up on sleep. I trust that
> clayarters are for the most part safe at home, that the freezing rain in
> the East won't strand Alisa forever, that somebody will post NCECA pix
> for us to enjoy with morning coffee.
>
> May the folks who offered stories, hugs, beers, tips, meals, advice,
> jelly beans, support, cookies, directions, pots, a patient ear, and
> other generosities -- (with me, or with anybody) -- know they are good
> souls and deserve whatever blessings Karma brings their way.
>
> (My very tired version of "I love you guys"...)
>
> Yours
> Kelly, back in Ohio, with kids who missed me, and an appreciative
> husband.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> http://www.primalpotter.com
>
>
> Click to lower your debt and consolidate your monthly expenses
>
>
>
>
> > style="font-size:13.5px">_______________________________________________________________
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--
Lisa Elbertsen
www.LisaElbertsen.com
Sunny Daze Design Pottery Studio
SunnyDazeDesign@gmail.com
Squamish, BC Canada
Helen Bates on mon 19 mar 07
For Kelly's son, try this link if the other doesn't work for you (it didn't
for me): http://tinyurl.com/yvads5
Original url:
http://www.toledoblade.com/apps/pbcs.dll/gallery?Site=TO&Date=20070315&Category=NEWS17&ArtNo=315014&Ref=PH&Params=Itemnr=1
Helen in Belleville, ON
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