Last Years

I was recently organizing some photos on flickr, grouping some of my work into years, starting with 2009-2010, starting over with 2011. I came across some work that I liked very much.



This bronchii bowl was a gift to my mother Christmas before last. I also made several heart bowls to hand out that year.



This is one of my favorite techniques, carving red clay which I then wash with iron oxide and fire sans glaze. I love the texture of these things after they're fired. They remind me of the adobe walls I've known.

One of my "mean to get back to it someday" pieces was this embroidered tile, half finished still. The pattern was taken from a pillowcase my grandmother embroidered. Unfortunately the holes I drilled came out too small to finish the embroidery, and I haven't circled back to the starting point.



I also began (and mean to get back to it someday) a set of dishes with this design on each piece. I think it was a bit stultifying at the time to make so many pieces of the same thing. The hundred mug challenge may have broken me of that.



The writing is one of Shakespeare's sonnets, though I've also done them with Spanish love songs. Equivalents as far as I'm concerned.

I made lots of jewelry, too, including this pair of too heavy earrings.



And I made lots of buttons for my mother.



This was one of my favorite pieces, this strange little bowl. It was tedious to glaze; those dots were done with a brush over many hours.



When I think about my own work, I am reminded of a quote from E.L. Doctorow about creating:

"It's like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."

 What does that mean? I think, in the case of pottery, it's moving forward piece by piece until I've amassed some body of work. But that implies some kind of destination or final point, doesn't it? Or does it?