Being an Expert

The Master of the Pot


One thing you can usually say about an artist's work: It will change.

I've seen lots of my fellow potter's work and progress and change over the years.

And I have observed that a clay artist's works can change more radically and sometimes more quickly than other disciplines.

A contributing factor may found in the very nature of artists who chose to work in clay.

Maybe it is because of the versatility of clay.

Maybe clay artists are naturally disposed to be more inquisitive and adventurous than, say, a painter or printmaker.

Maybe it is because of the material we work with; the huge range of raw materials and variety of techniques available for potters to explore.

Many of us come to clay from a variety of other disciplines.

Clay is very receptive to the application of other techniques. It can be woven, printed on, painted, drawn on, paired with metals and woods, sand blasted, etched, patinated, etc.

My interest in clay has always been exploring it's versatility. Building from slabs, wheel throwing, design and solving problems.

I spent time doing historical research. I was very lucky to be in places where I could see actual examples of many kinds of examples from prehistoric to modern works.

I liked trying to duplicate some of the techniques just by working out how things were done. I'm not one who likes to go to workshops. Workshops sometimes turn out little "Mini-Mes" of the teacher. However, if you learn the technique, it behoves you to make it your own and re-interpret the technique into your own style.


On the other hand, some artists find a formula that works for them and they stick with it. They make the same thing over and over again. There's certainly nothing wrong with that. If you have a good thing going and it intrigues you, go for it. There's lots to be said for establishing a trademark.

In some ways, it's very good because they become closely identified with a certain form or style and it becomes their identity. In the world of art merchandising, a quantitative source is a valued thing. The public at large and art dealers can pin down and put a price tag on easily-identified signature work. It fits into the commercial framework.

There is no 'right way' to make art. The key is figuring out what works for you.


Become the expert of  YOUR work.

Book: Art and Fear

I highly recommend this book to any artist!

Confidence builder, sympathetic sounding board,

No, you are Not crazy.

 Encouragement resource.

This book is all of this and more.


Any creative person can benefit from  this book.  Read it through or take snippets to ponder.

Dip into when something doesn't go right.

Artistic frustration can be as sharp as a knife.  If we didn't feel it; we wouldn't be artists in the first place.

When you are at a low ebb and all around you are crooking their eyebrows and looking at you sidewise, read it.


Available from Amazon and as a PDF version at http://www.libertyeyeschool.com/ap2d.cfm?subpage=1655939

GET IT!

Thinking Without Words II

This is what it feels like sometimes when I really want to have some alone-time for thinking.

Everyday Stuff - Those things you have to do.

The bottom section represents interruptions, stuff that comes up, sidetracks, new problems that have to be attended to, you know…….

And sandwiched between it all is new ideas, old ideas you want to get back to, segways you want to take, continuing themes, etc.

Interpretation

Featured Tiles:  I like to think of this set of tiles as an example of relationships:

The tile on the left is the opening statement:  "This is what I am; This is the standard."

The tile on the right is a variation or response:  It takes the example of the above and elaborates as if it were saying, "I accept your statement and respond. I am an elaboration of you." Or, "I see your bid and raise you one."

Also working in this design dynamic is the shape and strong black framing of both tiles, bouncing the eye back and forth toward the center. The outer curves work in the same way, leading the eye back and forth between the tile: The left tile has a larger outer margin on the far left; the right tile sweeps toward the far right border, but a similar strong outer border on the right and the strong vertical in the center of the image stops the eye at the far right. 

The tree-like center designs are isolated as images, but relate to each other in motion toward the center, also bouncing the eye back and forth, yet slowing the flow by corresponding dark verticals.

How wide the center division between the two tiles is also important. If hung too widely apart, this dynamic would not work as well.


I don't think these things as I am working. These design elements are almost subconscious and are part of an artist's "eye". They either look right or they don't.


This same back and forth happens a lot in music:  Theme and Variation and so it can be in clay.

So, what do you think is going on here?

These guys are fun to move around to get different impressions.

Jottings: "Art Advice"

Since, at the moment I don't have access to clay or equipment, I have been spending time "cleaning out" my computer.

 "My dirty old computer"-that commercial cracks me up.

++++++

**Segway Warning**

Can you become a computer hoarder?
I think so.

++++++

Anyway


In my frustration and because my MAC is now screaming to me that the Startup Disc is full and I can't download things and need to unload files,  I ran across a stored document called,


 Art Advice: Random Thoughts about You and Your Work

The first 10 years are the hardest.

Break a lot of bad pots.

Keep a lot of bad pots, but only as a reference.

Surrender to your art. 

Recognize it is an organic need for you. 

Don't apologize for taking time to pursue it.

Follow every impulse. 

Do It, 

Even though it has not been done before by you or anyone else. 

Even if it seems crazy, 

Do it.

Don’t persist in trying to ‘heal’ a bad pot; chuck it and make a better one.

Strive to know your flaws and work to correct them.

Learn from your mistakes.. 

Make notes about your mistakes so you will remember them.

Keep your best work.

Find other artists to talk to. They understand creative madness.

Flex your creative muscles every day:  

Sketch, read, dream, plan, make:  

Whatever needs doing and whatever dreaming need to be dreamed. 

Make it a daily habit. 

Inches add up to miles.

Photograph everything you make.

Take notes about your work. Your initial intention, the happy mistakes that happen, techniques, inspirations, whatever you will need to think about, whatever you see or do. You may think you'll remember later, but sometimes ideas are fleeting. 

You don't want them to get away.

Search out your own truth and keep returning to your own themes.

Keep pictures or examples of your inspirations.

Copying an IDEA is good; duplicating another artist’s WORK---not so good.  

It robs them and robs you.

Build a reference library: Keep the books that are relevant, sell the others

Avoid looking at ugly.

Listen to everybody. 

Ignore bad advice.  

Keep only what feeds you.

Strive to master the medium.

Don’t worry about Style, worry about Skill.

Set your standards high. 

I mean HIGH. 

So high you will always have to chase them.

Don’t worry or ask yourself, ‘Is it good enough?’ 

It’s good enough until you can make better.

Find your market niche.

If you need a tool, figure out how to find it or make it.  

If you can’t, find a good craftsman to make it for you.

Take care of your tools.

Keep learning. Don't rely on somebody else to teach everything you need to know. 
Teach yourself whenever you can; you will learn better that way.

Find your own best work environment, be it solitude or group, silence, music or talk, sloppy or neat, etc. 

If a piece does not sell, pack it up and don't look at it for a long time. Then, unpack it and look at it again. Decide if it should be kept, sold or destroyed.

Don't offer anything for sale you would be embarrassed to see again.

Live with your pots. What looks great today may not look so great tomorrow. And surprisingly, vice versa.

Don't get into a rut. 
Everybody's work changes even a little bit. Embrace it.

Don't take yourself too seriously, but seriously enough.

Why is it? (Fits and Starts)

Why is it that at some times, you can waltz out to your studio, wire off an 8 lb. chunk of clay, sit down and throw a 14 inch platter with no trouble at all?

And other times, you can't get anything to work.

Or worse yet, can't think of anything you want to make.

Or you can look at a piece of greenware and see several versions of glaze application and yet, at other times, you let the piece sit on the shelf gathering dust and can't think of a single way to decorate it?

Lately, I've been zipping off platters like there's no tomorrow and last night, just before going to sleep, I came up with several variations for underglaze.

And now, for something completely different....

Sometimes, you need to look at something completely the opposite of what you are doing.

Or sometimes, you need an inspiration.

You get in a rut. You hit a wall. Your muse leaves town.

Well.

Here's a website that will keep you going for months. It is so deep, so varied, so wide, you can mine it for days, months even.

It's every kind of art and craft you can think of. Organized by year, by exhibition, by country, etc. There are several indexes and ways to research within it.

It's eye candy for the soul.

Just saying......

http://www.curatedobject.us/the_curated_object_/opens-201102/

Virtuosity

An artist who paints, makes sculpture, weaves and makes jewelry is confusing to the world of commerce. Even though there are people who do all these things. It almost seems you must have a certain amount of fame before 'permission' to do multi-level work.

Let's face it. Artists are a unique breed. We see things differently. We have a different attitude toward work and our own interpretation of it.

Look at the work of Bennet Bean. Instantly identifiable. Once his work hit the main stream and the gallery world, everybody wants to have one of his sculptured and painted ceramic pieces. Debate raged about how to classify it. Is it sculpture? Is it painting? Is it 'really' pottery? (Who cares?-----me.) It's art. It's beautiful. That's enough for me.

But that's not the end of the story. Did you know he designs Tibetan rugs too? And jewelry? And knives? And he paints? I'm in awe of this man.

Take a look at bennettbean.com.

I have seen some of his knives and they are a thing of absolute and breath-taking beauty.

Charmer

Since I can't get to my studio to work, I thought I'd share a few pictures of pots I've grabbed off the web to dream over.*

This little gem comes with not much information. All the information is in what the eye can see.

It's either Japanese or made during the period of high influence from Japan and China. You can guess just by looking at it that it isn't large; it's probably very light in the hand.

It's interesting both in form and decoration. The piece probably was mold-made. It is more than likely porcelain and has an applied lid knob and handle. The triangular shape is unique.

Two things tip you off to know it's made in the East: The side-mount handle and the spout, which hearkens to saki-pot pourers.

Just look at that glaze design! Almost like someone had taken glue and layered the pot with fine brocade. And what a sensitive bounce of bluish white and dark navy. That fine white line all around the rim sets off and calls attention to the triangular shape. A sensitive design element that adds grace to the pot.

How I would love to handle this pot. To turn it over and see what the base looks like, what clay was used, to try pouring out of it. (Although you already know it would do an excellent job with nary a drip.)

What an inspiration to use for shape and decoration.

*If you have a Mac, it's easy to click on a jpeg, drag it to the desktop, let it go. It will sit there waiting to be opened or drug into another folder to be stored for later viewing. I usually re-name the file as a memory aid, or if I know who made the piece, the artist's name.

Being Sharply Aware

Can you remember color?

Do you recognize scents?

Can you visualize the room you had as a child?

Can you call up the taste of your favorite dish or the taste of something you didn't like?

I think artist's brains are 'wired' differently, that we have heightened sensory abilities; a heightened awareness of their surroundings; a fuller reception, better connection and recall of the senses.

Maybe that makes us artists in the first place.

Maybe because we have the sharpened tools, we naturally develop into artists.

How many far-sighted artists do you know? Most of them I know either have very good eyesight or are near-sighted.

Could it be that because of the physical make-up, we DEVELOP differently? Nature creates nurture?

Think of Leonardo for instance. He must have had exceptional sight to have been able to observe and then draw birds in multiple positions of flight. He had to have a heightened understanding of this movement to then interpret THAT into a mechanical example of flight.

His studies of the movement of water are a revelation. He 'saw' what was going on within the motion of a transparent medium.

Not only could he observe acutely, he could interpret and produce visuals of what he understood.

Along with heightened senses, we also must have tactical skills as well. We must control the movements of our hands in concert with how our brain works in order to command them to produce what we want or conceive in our heads. Not everyone can do that either.

Take a look at his visualization of the local landscape AS SEEN BY A BIRD IN FLIGHT. In Leonardo's time, there was just no way he could have actually seen this.

Many of us can visualize a piece before we make it.

One of the early frustrations I had as a child was that I would 'see' what I wanted to make, but what I made didn't turn out like I 'saw' it in my imagination.

No one I tried to talk about this with understood what I was trying to convey. I would get very puzzled looks.

It was because I was trying to describe, analyze and work through a problem that just didn't exist in their scope of experience. And it probably never would.

My assumption was always that everyone had the same perceptions and conceptions I did. I was buffaloed by why they didn't get what I was trying to describe or understand why I was frustrated.

I have since learned to live with a blending of the vision in my head and what progresses and develops as I work and to be conscious to seeing the avenues that open up during that process. To make the choices of which way to let the flow take me and explore the possibilities that are presented.

That's what is so engaging, so fascinating and so mysterious about making art. No wonder those artists who have gone before talk of the Muse.

Do you have a Muse? Several Muses? Museses? Musii?

Drawings--rough drafts

I've been doing a fair amount of rifleing through some old work at an attempt (Notice I said 'Attempt') to better organize my environment and I ran across a couple of things I did for projects.

This is the plan for a wax of "Tracking the Thunderbird", a project that was a collaboration between the local water board, the library and the schools in order to bring awareness to the various sources of water in our area. And believe me, in the Pacific Northwest water is everywhere. It was brilliant.

The idea was to set up teams of three people: An illustrator, a story-teller and an artist to design a large bronze plaque. The plaques would all have the same basic motif--the stylized head of a thunderbird.

As each story was developed, the artist would modify the design of the thunderbird head to fit the different chapters of the study book. We met as teams and brainstormed ideas for each of the chapters. My group was Estuary. The writer wrote a story which the illustrator worked into the book drawings and I carved the wax blank for the plaque design.

Thunderbird bronzes which were cast using a sand mold process, were mounted on concrete bases and then placed or hidden in various areas that illustrated each of the locations and sources of water. The task for the children was to find the bronzes using clues in the book--a kind of science scavenger hunt.

It was a rather nervous project for me because I got one and only one wax blank. No re-dos allowed. I drew and drew, tweaked and tweaked the design. The main story idea was a giant snake controlled an estuary of the fresh, brackish and salt water and all the creatures that lived there and depended on it. He held them in the coils of his body and lay with his tail in the fresh water; his head in the salt water. (The Estuary I was illustrating was a very twisty-winding creek.) The upshot of the tale was that a brave sea gull marshalled a band of sea gulls to drove the snake from the estuary so all the creatures could live and thrive. Hey, I didn't write it, okay?

Does the snake look a little familiar?

One of the tricks is that there are 12 birds hidden within the design.
Can you find them? Hint: Think positive and negative images. And don't forget the Thunderbird.

Packrat

Sometimes it pays to be a packrat. It's my belief that most artists are so. We collect objects; things of color, texture, form, pattern; things that interest us. We're like that New Zealand Weka bird that lives in a burrow. The farmers there know if tools or any other shiny thing is missing, they search for one of the nests and start digging. "There's that spanner I've been looking for!"

Right now, I have a small box of hummingbird feathers on my kitchen counter. They are breathtakingly light and beautiful. A hummingbird collided with one of our windows and died. I picked him up and had a really good look at him. It's rare that you get this chance. I know right away he was dead and not just unconscious because his long, delicate, feathery tongue was sticking out of his beautiful black beak. His feathers were iridescent whispers.

I have compartmental boxes of shells from every beach I've been on. I've moved my favorite rocks around for years. I have a selection of fibers like raffia and cane, bamboo and branches. Beads I have collected and made myself as well as antique buttons are stored in tins.

I hoard colored cords and threads sorted into groups ready to be used as are colored pencils, water and acrylic paints and exotic paper. Surface clay pigment finishes and metal foils are in a filing cabinet in my studio along with drift wood, cane handles and corks large and small. Even odd and interesting bits of plastic designed to be thrown away I find interesting, ambiguously anonymous and possibly useful one day. "Would this look good on a ray gun?" A broken glass Christmas ornament worked really well on "Ecto Extracter".












In closets, in baskets and drawers, in boxes and bags; these things are "archived" and all over my house and studio. This is my lexicon - or maybe I should say adverbs? to art.

Images and Ideas

I carry notebooks with me everywhere I go. You never know when creative lightening will strike.

I have a stack of hijacked hotel note pads beside my bed just in case I have an idea or a terrific dream in the night. At the edge of sleep the mind is free with no limits or rules. They also work well as bookmarks. I can jot down notes about what I'm reading or as a reminder to look up something in the text I want to know more about.

For example, I was riding on the Seattle ferry some days ago and watching another ferry crossing in the other direction. As it passed, I was struck by the image of the smokestack - the form, the black trim, and thought: "That would make the coolest looking covered container." I made a quick sketch. Maybe one day the sketch will become a covered vessel.


I have several standard 3-ring binders. They travel back and forth from the house to the studio. They are for design ideas; doodles. I don't want to wait to get an idea down on paper that I've thought about in the house. By the time I get to the studio, it would be gone.

I created several template pages for the binder using a simple graphic program of large circles, rectangles with rounded corners and profiles of vessels. These are for working out designs for plates, trays and thrown bodies.









I never go into a museum without a camera and a sketchbook. Some museums won't let you take photos. I can always sketch what I want to. The notebook can also be used to make notes of the photos I do take. I export the jpgs to my desktop, stack them onto a blank page by using my old Pagemaker program, print them off, cut them out individually and file them in my image file folders.


I have maintained an image file system since college. It's 4 drawers of hanging folders labeled 'pitchers' or 'cups' or 'faces'. All my inspirations are located in one central place.

When I'm working on an idea, I can take an images out of the folder and push-pin it to the bulletin board in the studio. The arrangement is always changing. The pictures serve as springboards; inspirations for forms, handles, stands, etc. to get my mind in the groove. I also keep a folder of all my paper patterns.

I dismantle all the pottery magazines I get and put the photos or articles in the files too. The system is far more accessible than digging through a pile of magazines.

The rule is: If I look at something for more than 5 or 6 seconds, it goes in the image file. I have photos of fabric, perfume bottles, landscapes, insects, anything that catches and holds my eye. It may sound like a lot of work or that the files would become unmanageable, but I purge them every once in a while. I can also sub-divide into more detailed folders such as 'lids' or 'handles', but haven't needed to yet.

It's a system that works for me.

Other Skills

So today I've been redoing a cane seat on an antique chair. I love it when I can fix something; when I can take a broken thing and make it whole and useful again. It's great to do manual work and let your mind wonder and I began thinking about how I learned this skill.

Many, many years ago, my husband and I were looking for durable chairs, We had a young family and the Navy was moving us about every two to three years. We decided to buy antique furniture because (1) It is usually solid wood and could be repaired or refinished. (2) It had a value should it get destroyed. Modern furniture, we learned the hard way, was not that great at withstanding the wear and tear of sea vans and virtually had no claimable value once it was torn up.

So that is why we were cruising antique and junk stores in Portland, Oregon, where we were stationed at the time. We came across a dealer who had a set of oak pressed-back dining chairs.* The caned seats were in shreds. We were interested in buying the chairs, but learned it was very expensive to replace the seats. And it was even more difficult to locate a craftsman who could do it. After talking with the dealer a while, he remembered man who used to do seats but, he said, he was getting quite old, had arthritis and it was doubtful if he still worked at it. Then he suggested I might be able to convince the man to teach me how to cane seats. With that condition, we asked the dealer to hold the chairs.

I convinced the cane man he needed to have me as a student and bought the chairs.

During the course of the lessons, my teacher began talking about how He learned the craft. When he was a young man, he was taught by an itinerate chair-caner who had, in turn, learned it in prison as a rehabilitative trade. When my teacher had his lessons, his teacher, the ex-con, was very old man. When I had my lessons, my teacher was about 80 years old. So if you calculate the time-span of passing-down-the-skill through three people, to the time that I'm sitting here recaning a chair, it calculates to about 125-150 years from the time the convict/chair-caner first learned his trade to my working today. Now that's an amazing thing.

I'm lucky to have found my teacher when he was a very experienced craftsman because he knew all the subtle nuances of the cane itself and how to manipulate it through the weaving process. He not only taught me the mechanics of the skill, but all the 'other' things it would take a long time 'doing' to learn.

And that's probably true of most art. Brilliance may show it's flash at an early age, but it takes years of doing to arrive at the fullness and deep understanding of the craft in order to bring it together in a form recognized as a masterful execution. Skill, yes, all the techniques can be learned. Mastery only comes with time.

*We still have the chairs and after umteen years of hard use and many, many moves they are now in the barn and guess what: They need new seats.

GIGO - Garbage in; Garbage out.

Well, not exactly. But every time I load the kiln, I have this idea in my head about how the pieces will look when they come out. Most of the time, everything clicks; some of the time, it doesn't. Now that can be a good thing or it can be a bad thing.

A glaze ruuuuns right-off-the-pot and onto the kiln shelf.
(Forehead slap) Why didn't I put a set-tile under that?
Maybe I should incorporate a set-tile into the piece? no no no

That combination of glazes never acted like THAT before!

Did I calculate the glaze right?
How thick was it when I put it on?
Has it changed from the last time?
Where's my notes!

Ugh! I don't like that at all!
Why did I waste that piece?

Did the kiln fire right?

ANOTHER learning experience?

I'm going to stick to one glaze from now on.

It's Hammer Time.

Or

Wow Wow Wow
I'm only going to do (white, black, green, That Glaze) from now on!

I LOVE it!
Where's my notes?

Ooooo, That's a keeper! I'm going to take it into my house and live with it forever basking in it's gloriousness.
(That is, until an even better, more beautiful pot comes along.
Or a show comes along.
Or a customer comes along who can't live without it. (It had better be a good price. Oh, where's my camera? Need a picture of it before it goes out the door.)

I've put pots away thinking they were the pits and have unpacked them later and thought, "Hum, that's a nice pot. Why didn't I like it? I'll have to do that again."

It's all in what you think the pot will look like after it's fired. If it doesn't measure up to your mental picture, you might judge it to be a failure while everyone else may think it's great. It's all in your expectations. I try not to have expectations, but it's hard. I've learned to let a piece "cure" for a while. (In some cases, they fester.)

If the construction is fine with no technical flaws and it's a saleable piece, take it to a show or offer it for sale. You'd be surprised how many people may love it and want it. You just never know.

What a Difference a Glaze Makes

This tumbler didn't come out like I pictured it in my mind. The glazes ran 'way more than I expected, although I've done this before, but on a flat surface where they behaved themselves. This isn't quite IT overall. I want the base darker. I'll brush the rim to match and the flare at the bottom of the vessel, then wax the thing. Then do the body. This was an experiment: I threw the top and base separately. I scored the base heavily, bisqued them separately, then glazed both pieces and set them in the kiln on short kiln posts. (The inside of the base wasn't glazed.) Musta' been all those fumes because a couple of these guys got drunk and s-l-i-d ever so slightly off-center. I still like the look. It's worth repeating, I think.

"Cup Committee Meeting" When I photographed this group and looked at the result, I thought it looked as if they were all talking to each other. (I must eat lunch)

I had a lot of fun making these. I wanted them loose with interesting variations. They all have names: Sluggo, Unkempt Lady, Nose, Three Bumps, One Bump, Three Knuckles, etc. They came out pretty much like I expected. I mean, they're WHITE. Total emphasis on form here. I'll make these again, only bigger and more 'out there'. They're fun for you hand.

This tumbler was done after I did a series of smaller ones with more applied bumps. (Pictured below) It has a nicer shape, is larger and just classier looking. Not a whole lot of difference in the raw clay and finished piece. Easy to drink out of because of the lip-fitting flared top, Nice balance in the hand and easy to clean out because you can get your hand inside easily. I really like the size. It's about 10 oz. without filling to the top.

This is "Warts and All". This little devil and all his kin ran like a bandit. Pictured is the only surviver that can stand without leaning. Lovely interior, though, don'tchathink? A note will go in my glazing journal: Do NOT use this combo on anything vertical!

A cylinder form that has been paddled to make a square bottom works well with this glaze. It's a fake ash matt and the runs are very nice. Simple form/show-off glaze.

The grouping below is "Nice Family" because every one has one stamp at the bottom that is the same; the top stamp is different on each. This is a glaze combo I'm very comfortable with. I've used it before with stamped pieces and it pools nicely in the cavities. Celadon is always satisfying.

Thinking time

It's nearing the end of March and it seems as though I'm walking through mud. Other things have eaten up my studio time---mostly the need to attend to the "Everyday". When you must concentrate on "Everyday", it steals your time and your mind from creative dreaming....... Sometimes I jot down notes to myself. Something will trigger a new idea. Like "Think about pots that have sculpted feather forms for handles." Or I'll make a sketch of a new idea for a jar and lid form.


I have to do this immediately because it is as if I have two minds: The Studio Mind and the Everyday Mind. When I'm in my studio, nothing else exists. I pick up right where I left off and continue to work on whatever I left there in progress. Forget House, Errands, Dinner, What-I-Need-To-Do....Time dissolves. When I'm away from the studio and a fleeting idea comes, I must make some kind of note or it will be gone; swamped by the Everyday.

I've been thinking more about Christo's work. A lot of people have thought it 'wierd' or 'silly' to wrap islands, make fabric gateways, etc. but what he's really doing is saying, "Take a fresh look at something you're been looking at and seeing it only to identify it." That's how a lot of people see things; only to label things, places, people, not really SEEing it. Christo presents us with a new vision; reidentifying something and making us really look at it.

That's part of an artist's job.

I usually don't like to get into this kind of thing. It seems to lame to try and use words to define a thing like 'art'. It's sort of like talking to computer geeks or reading manuals. I know it's English, but what does it Mean? A visual experience and language are two totally different things. One is right brain; the other left brain. If you could speak in double voices, using double language, then you could really talk about it. Sort of like singing. That takes both sides of the brain. If we could only sing art.........

Aaaaah! This makes my teeth itch and my hair hurt.