It happened again---Another flying dream. Well, sort of.......More like a Sliding/Swimming/Hanging On dream.

So, I'm in my ratty nightgown; the one I decided to cut up into rags yesterday. (I always appear in something awful. I'm usually trying to hold onto a towel or some other tat that just barely covers me.) Ane I'm barefoot. (Why IS that? Does it mean, "Now pay attention: You're standing on Holy Ground. This is a Message!)

I'm with "Himself" who is saying, "We Have to go to this meeting in a theater. It's okay", he says, "Don't worry, it'll be casual".

It's afternoon. I'm carrying a really long spear-like thing with an ornately pointy end on it. It flexes like a pole-vaulter's pole. I have no idea what I think I'm going to do with it--maybe keep everyone at bay, I don't know........"Himself" is walking straight from the house to this place and I'm dawdling along a high bank. Obviously, I don'twannago.


We get there and it's a freakin' opera house. Absolutely lush inside. Everybody's dressed up! I'm coerced to sit down in a seat on the the aisle, in the middle of the place, of course. I try to become invisible by slouching down, pulling the neck up on the awful nightgown. Then my Schnauzer-child, Barker, trots in and lays down in the middle of the aisle. He's capturing everyone's attention and so am I. Somehow, I manage to slink out.



The next thing I know, I'm back on the cliff enjoying the sunshine. I've lost the pole. (Is there a message here?) Suddenly I pitch forward face first into a pathway made of very tan, very slick clay. I begin to slide, slide, slide at increasing velocity just on the edge of a grassy cliff. Doesn't matter if the path goes down or up, I seem to be pulled along. It's fast and scary, but Boy, I'm having Fun.

I'm passing vegetation and things and people who are waving and smiling. I see that the slick path ends ahead of me above an area full of boats and piers. I shoot off the cliff and land in the water, but Hey, no problem, I'm able to make swimming movements and just skim along on the surface. Its like swimming on one of those moving walkways in the airport--I'm moving normally; everything else is just whizzing by.

Suddenly I landland smack on a shore (on my feet, mind you). It's a riverbank somewhere in the deep south. There's a big square house with verandas all around. The air is sweet, warm and balmy. The Spanish moss is swaying in the breeze. I walk into the yard and the family who lives in the house seems to know me. I'm invited inside. They all talk in a soft southern drawl.

I go into the living room and see that the wall between it and the kitchen is open slats with books stacked sideways up against the wall so high that it is bowing inward toward the living room. (Do I need to take some books to the used bookstore again?)



I look up and see above the room that a large screened-in porch on the second floor with antique silver, ornate pressed-metal tile lining the floor, walls and ceiling. The glare is awful. They are very proud of it. It's horrible. They tell me it's where they spend most of their time. I suggest they might install one of those glass folding-door walls so they could enjoy it even when it's raining. (What am I doing giving advice to these people?!)

They ask me why I've come, (Probably because of the advice) and I say I'm waiting for the big, orange trucks. (Where did that come from?--I detest and avoid orange having had to live with an orange kitchen for two years. Two Years!) They say one is due by any minute, so I go out into the yard and stand by the road to wait for it.

Sure enough, here one comes rolling up the road. It's equipped with hand-grips at the top in the back and I miraculously leap up and hook my hands into the slots as it goes by. We fly away down a narrow, tree-lined dusty road through the swamps and by huge stretches of water and I'm just loving it. Whooping it up just like a cowboy. Yee-HA! Just flying in the breeze like some kinda' flag.

When I wake up, I'm feeling exhilarated, just as I am after a regular, self-propelled flying dream.

Well, guess I'll just wait here for the big clay slide to take me to that big 'ole orange truuuk ride.

(Should never have eaten mushrooms and watched "My Name is Earl".)

Uh, did I remember to put the trash out last night?

Sometimes ya just gotta do something tedious.

I really don't know why.



I learned how to do this technique when I took a class from Galina Rein, a Russian artist who emigrated to Seattle several years ago. It's basically forming tiny flowers and design elements with the fingers and attaching them to a basic form. I use cast-off dental tools to attach the tiny components. This topper is about 4 1/2 inches tall.

After the class I went nuts making porcelain Christmas tree ornaments, light string-pull endings, pins, earrings, and wedding cake toppers.

The second topper pictured has two components. It is a bell and base. The bottom of the bell is slightly out of round so that it sits on top of the base and, by twisting it, seats onto the holders so that it becomes one unit.





I experimented with texturing the base with a needle tool. I rather like it, but it needs more experimenting.

This piece stands about 5 inches tall.






They take FOREVER to make.
They can't dry out AT ALL.
I don't know why I make them; nobody could afford one, I'd have to charge so much for it.

After make one of these, I gotta go sling some glaze or something.

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.

Chaos

I live in chaos. Actually, I should say I live in the midst of chaos--Me, personally, I'm not in chaos.

There isn't a surface in my studio that isn't full of something. I have to clear out a place on the worktable to make anything. Doesn't bother me. It would drive some people crazy. And Thank God I don't have to clean it up every time I quit working. THAT would be work! Some time ago, I was comforted by seeing photos of Warren McKenzie's studio--just as messy as mine. I'm off the hook.

I also remember Paul Dresang saying in a workshop/demo that he had to clear out the 'detritus' to a 2-foot square in order to work. This is a man who makes wonderful, incredible, meticulous fool-the-eye clay pieces. Seeing his work, you would think he worked in a studio that was like a scientific lab.....

The mess functions as an index. I have shelves full of things that 'worked' and I want to be reminded of that in order to repeat it--shapes to repeat, glaze combinations that sing. What is referred to as "The Artist's Collection", as in the....

There's also things in other places that didn't work. Ideas in progress--things to do again, but with a different glaze, a form problem to solve, a piece that worked, but the glaze ran or the form cracked:

The bastard children of a good idea.

Besides, if I didn't keep them out, I'd forget them.

Perfectly Fitting Jar Lid

This jar is made on the wheel; thrown as one piece, a hollow form. After the bottom and diameter are established, then the walls are brought up and closed at the top. The walls are purposely thrown a little thicker than usual in order to accommodate the cut for the interlocking lid flange and the base lip. It's also good to make the jar a bit taller, since the lid cutting operation will take some out of the middle.

This particular jar has a 'sprout' topknot type handle. The glaze is done with a splotch of green glaze on the bisqued piece, the application of wax resist over that, then the top and base are dipped in a contrasting glaze. No matter how well matched the lid and base are, there is always the 'perfect seat' of fit. Making a decoration travel from lid to base helps to make sure the lid is returned to this optimum fit.

Below is a diagram I developed to illustrate the technique for cutting lids from closed forms. If you click on the image, you can enlarge it for easier reading. With some computers, you can click the curser on the image, hold and drag the image to the desktop, then import it into a document for reference.

If you cut the lid flange at the base of the indentation, it is possible to remove the completed lid and inner flange. Just a bit of smoothing up is needed.

The base, still attached and centered on the batt, can be trimmed on the inside to create a 'shelf' for the lid flange to rest upon.

Unfortunately, I don't have any examples to photograph of the jars I've made using this approach, I've sold them all!

It is possible to reverse the cut--make it so that the lid slips down over the bottom flange--by cutting at the top of the indentation to release the lid, then inverting the lid into the base and after securing it, cutting the inner edge, leaving the outer surface undisturbed. The outer edge of the base may need some cutting adjustment on the inner lip so that the lid slips easily over. This is an example of an early try at the reverse cut.

Once you get the hang of the cutting and a feel for the thicknesses, either way is fine, but I prefer the first method because in my experience, it gives a truer fit. It is also possible to trim the inside (or outside, if you wish) of the base to make the walls thinner.

Clay Frames

Clay doesn't have to be the main thing in a piece of artwork. Some time ago, I tried making frames for some two-dimensional work I had done. I made the first small picture in a class-setting dealing with tile and slab-rolled clay. It is a quick watercolor sketch I made in Hawaii.

Constructing of the first frame includes creating a small raised frame in the back of the piece to accommodate the glass, the work and a backing. This piece has only tape holding the backing on, since it is a very small and lightweight. A peak similar to the one on the front located at the center top is repeated on the back to provide a hanging place using a small nail. In the place of tape on a larger work, holes could be made in the clay and, after firing, small nails or mounting triangles could secure the backing. Some expeimenting would need to be done to account for shrinkage.


The second sketch was done in Guam and is an abstraction of an incredible panorama of beach, headland and surf that could be seen from the crest of a road. It is from memory. I painted it as if viewed from a window with a curtain of fabric drawn back. It's called "Room with a View".

In this case, I built into the design a way of hanging the work by extending the frame, making holes in the extensions, threading and anchoring the multiple threads with knots at the bottom. It is also unglazed on the back and sealed with tape. This method of hanging opens all kinds of possibilities for interesting materials that become part of the design relating to the frame or the work it contains: Cording, leather, wire, rope, wood, reed, etc.

Problems

There’s the old Chinese wheeze - something about “Every problem has a gift in it’s hands” which I have always filed in the Mental Sour Grapes Junk Drawer, but recently that very thing happened to me. I made an 8-piece set of “Cat Plates” drawing the cats and the trim with black underglaze. They were porcelain and finished with a cone 6 clear glaze. In the final firing, the clear glaze reacted with the black underglaze in the banding resulting in a small area of a sort of wispy grey on the black. In another area, there was a tiny bit of black ‘creep’of fine lines into the white ground.

It didn’t bother me, but it did bother the lady who bought a whole set. A request was made to replace that particular plate, which I was glad to do. (I want my customers to be satisfied. Besides, the gallery that sells my work has a reputation to uphold as well.)

So, I tried to duplicate the plate. That didn’t work. Too many variables: Clay density, throwing variation, glaze and underglaze consistencies, my memory...... I usually do extras when I do a whole series of one thing, but you guessed it. This time I didn’t. Okay. Lesson learned.

I asked that the plate be returned to me in order to get it right. Previously, I had used an overglaze on clear-glazed ray guns that had been underglazed in bright colors. I thought I’d try using a black overglaze to correct the banding. I tested it first on a similar plate and not only did it work, but it worked seamlessly.

New revelation! It is extremely workable, it is also extremely tinker-able. I can erase what I don’t like quickly with a damp sponge or Q-tip. If it’s dried, I can alter or etch lines into solid areas using a needle tool. I can write script using a fine liner brush. There’s much to be explored here.

All Finished

Finished the chair seat.

Took a few days, but looks nice. Tight as a snare drum.

By the way, my kids were raised to know that you never, Ne-ver put your foot in the middle of a caned-seat chair unless you wanted endure mass screaming from the mother-unit.

Just took a look at Tony Clennell's "Get a Handle on It" and "Taking the Macho Out of Bigware". Both are great videos.

In 'Get A Handle on It', (back and front of the case are shown here) Tony shows several different design techniques for making a rolled handle, then does the clearest, easiest demonstration of pulling handles I've seen. He manipulates the clay with great technique and understanding of the material during the pulling process. The aesthetics of placement and attachment is also discussed and shown.

'Taking the Macho Out of Bigware' shows how you can make very large pieces using a two-part technique, marrying the top and bottom of thrown pieces to produce tall or volumenous vessels. It is such a sensible solution. Tony demos this approach in a clear, easy to follow process with several different forms. P.S. Don't miss the trick for finding the bottom of a big bottle. It's Priceless!

These two DVDs make a wonderful addition to Sheila Clennell's great video on creating handmade cane handles. It is also clear in directions and well shot with detail camera work that doesn't leave you wondering how something would look from another angle. Being able to make your own handles allows you to custom design them to match your work.

Every potter comes up with their own version of how to place their hands in the clay for throwning or making components, but I found I was very interested in closely watching Tony's hands as he worked. He has a very light touch along with the good advice of 'leave it alone and keep it fresh'. (You can fiddle clay to death, you know.)

DVDs in general are a great resource for your reference library. The good thing about owning a video is you can look at it over and over again. You can try the technique, then refresh your mind by viewing the process again.

This form of information is especially helpful to me, since I tend to either watch something so intently I don't hear the sound or pay so much attention to the dialog, I miss seeing something. (Quirkey, I know. Watch CNN and read the crawl at the bottom at the same time? Forgettaboutit.)

You can find all the videos beside view great looking pottery on the Clennell's website: www.sourcherrypottery.com, click on the number 4 for Videos.


Segue Alert:

Last night I dreamed I was at my daughter-in-law's house (not her real house; this was a quirky dream-house) and she had a little 'droid dishwasher like a Rumbo floor vacuum. When you wanted to load it, you called it from underneath a cabinet and it rolled to the table for loading. When you were finished, you sent it away with the wave of a hand and it rolled to another cabinet, hooked itself up and washed the dishes.

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.