| One of my earliest memories from childhood is of the delight I would take in going into a souvenir store or museum shop. I would usually head to the first real piece of pottery I spotted (not the souvenir ashtrays or mugs), pick it up and fondle it, turn it over to look at the foot, the signature, admire the shape and glaze from the very bottom up to the lip. I have no idea who or what inspired me to do this – there had been no potters in my family, no memorable clay work in school, so it had to be intuitive. And, I happily spent my saved up allowance on a small piece, now and then, such as the little brown vase from Canada, which I still have to this very day. | |
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| I wasn’t to experience the delight of actually working with clay until many years later, as an adult, when my husband signed me up for classes in the home of a NJ potter, as a Christmas gift. That was all it took for me to fall in love with the stuff – and the infinite possibilities of textures and forms, techniques, glazes – all of it. Raku is surely alchemy. Pitfire is a witnessing of the marriage of earth and fire, and hoping it’s a happy one. Stoneware provides the joy and pride of eating, drinking, and serving from vessels made with my own hands. | |
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Although
I chose teaching as my profession, pottery has been a satisfying, creative
haven for me to come home to, again and again. Being a workshop junkie,
I have met incredibly warm and wonderful individuals, fellow clay addicts,
brilliant teachers both gentle and stern in their lessons. My home abounds
with clay pieces- some cherished works of potter friends, some works of
artists I’ve admired but never met, and some of my own, that I couldn’t
bear to part with. And, when I visit a museum store, faraway gift shop, or home of a new acquaintance, I still gravitate to that stunning piece of pottery, pick it up, and turn it over and over in my hands. |
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