What’s for dinner?

This flu is taking forever to go away. Two steps forward and one step back.

I’m trying to figure out how to get the elves to come and cook Christmas Eve dinner at my house. I’ll make the pies. They can do the rest, including the clean-up.

Fortunately, my girls are great cooks. Unfortunately, they eat completely different things. Younger daughter has been a vegetarian since she was 7 and a couple months ago decided to be vegan. (What can you possibly eat that doesn’t have butter or cheese or eggs in it? Why would you want to?) Not that she proselytizes about it. She hardly mentions it. She just doesn’t eat the food. So she will be making vegan dishes which are surprisingly tasty.

Older one is a real San Francisco foodie and the kind of person who likes to figure out all the ingredients in a dish at a restaurant as she is eating it. She is also an omnivore. When she was traveling a few years ago, she had to try the most unusual food in each country. Did you know roasted guinea pig (Cuy al Horno) is a common delicacy in Peru? I wouldn’t have tried it.

Speaking of eating anything, son and wife are traveling around Asia on an extended honeymoon. Here is an excerpt about stinky tofu from their travel blog while visiting Taipei:

“I love all the street vendors here. Almost everything looks soo yummy. And most of the stuff we’ve tried has been awesome. I’m even starting to get used to the smell of all the stinky tofu vendors. Before I leave Taiwan, I’m determined to try some. For those of you who have never visited China, H.K., Taiwan, or Indonesia, I explain stinky tofu. It’s basically tofu that smells like death. There as many recipes for stinky tofu as there are stinky tofu vendors, but basically, they make first make a brine. The brine is made from pouring milk and or pure soy milk in a bucket, adding some meat, dried fish, dried shrimp, spices, and/or lye (there are numerous possibilities, but basically it has to be a bunch of stuff that gets stinky and nasty as easily as possible) and then leaving the brine outside for a week to months until rots and then rots some more. Then, they remove all the maggots and add bricks of very firm tofu and let it sit for a while to further ferment. Basically, the object seems to be to make it as stinky as possible. And I’m not just talking about simple stink. We’re talking about stink you can’t escape for blocks. Stink that stains your clothes, stains your brain. Stink that makes corpses smell like roses. Literally the foulest stuff I have ever smelled in my life. And people eat it. People love it. The stinkier the better. Now, I’m one of those people who is challenged by the weirdest, funkiest, grossest, most abstract food out there (one reason I loved living in Japan so much), so obviously I’m determined to eat and maybe even enjoy stinky tofu.”

If he tried it, he didn’t post about it. Not that I really want to hear about it. Just reading about the preparation is enough to turn me against tofu.

The other day I went to Joan’s to make truffles and while they were cooling, we had tea and I took some pictures around her house.  Ken Dierck’s cat is in front of some of Joan’s tiles in the first picture and the second is one of Ken’s test (!) tiles.

sick of the flu

I have had the flu for the last week and a half. I have read several novels, watched way too many movies and inane tv shows, done half a book of sudoku puzzles, taken handfuls of vitamins, drank tons of tea and chicken soup and it still isn’t gone.

I don’t like to complain, but Really! enough is enough. I don’t get flu shots because I never get the flu. (ahem). I might have to rethink that decision. At least it has been cold and rainy most of the time I have been home.

I ‘m not one of those sweet sick persons. I don’t like to lay around all day but Gerti has been trying to help me with that with her modeling of contentment.

I have been thinking about things I want to do with clay. Nothing kinky.

But before I go off in another direction I have to finish some things like making more little bird bowls for a couple of people who want a set.

This seems like a simple matter. However, these bowls were made by slumping the clay into a condiment bowl from what was probably a set of mid-century, heavy duty cafeteria ware – just the right size and shape. It’s gone. A victim of the thorough trashing of my car when it was stolen. Why was it in the car? I keep asking myself that right along with the question of why they had to throw everything away. Did they think if they did the car would be theirs to keep? Anyway, you also might think it would be easy to replace a little cafeteria condiment bowl. Well, I have been scouring the second hand stores and so far nada. I have tried some others but, without getting too melodramatic, it’s just not the same (she whined).

By the way, Diana, who bought the bird bowl set, left a comment the other day about the “hella darling” bowls, and that combination of words brings a smile to my face each time I think of it.

Snow on the camelias

and frost on the Collards and Coreopis. I know this frost is nothing compared to real snow but it is a big deal on the mid-Pacific coast with our zone 10b temperature range plants. I went out in the dark and cut all the lettuce I could reach from the path and covered my little tangerine and lemon tree trees. I should have covered several other plants, but it was too cold and I am too wimpy when it comes to being cold. Hopefully my plants are tougher than me.

It rained here in the flatlands near the Bay the night before last, but in the hills there was snow. It’s a big deal, since we only get snow every 5 to 10 years and then only lasts for a couple of hours. That’s OK with me since one of the reasons I like to live in this area is – no snow and no ice. Even though I had a great time in my high school days purposely skidding the car on ice in parking lots, I never want to drive on icy roads again.

This bowl turned out to be so thick it was out of proportion to the base, and I was about to recycle it, but wondered if I could lighten it up by carving some clay away and this is the result.

The bowl still seems a little top heavy to me, but the carving part was pretty satisfying, didn’t take an inordinate amount of time, and I want to see how it looks after glazing, so I guess it lives for another day.

Putting together furniture is not a good ikea

The show Saturday was very crowded for most of the night which was a good thing in more than one way. The biggest surprise was how much heat a crowd of people can put out even in a warehouse with the loading dock doors open. By the end of the night when it thinned out, there were people huddling under the kerosene powered patio heaters, but for most of the night it felt kinda like a garden party with heavy coats on. The food and wine were delicious. There’s nothing wrong with eating walnut bread and brie for dinner.

It was terrific to see so many people turn out for a ceramics only event. I had a great time with all my friends that showed up. Thank you all. I am happy to think of my pots in their homes. In fact, the next day, I blearily went to a book club discussion at the new home of my little bird plates and ate sugared pecans from them.

Today I went to help my daughter build some furniture. Put it together, anyway. She just moved and needed more space for clothes so we went to Ikea – my idea of hell, really, but she went and picked it out and all I needed to do was help her get it out of the warehouse – and loaded up her friend’s Suburban with boxes – heavy boxes- many heavy boxes.

By the time we had unloaded it at her place, even with the help of a couple big friends, I was ready for a nap, but we were on a tight schedule and already behind. While she went out for a job related appointment, I got started on the chest of drawers.

Now I got myself into this by telling her the other day that I liked to put together those furniture kits and that I was good at it. “It’s like a big puzzle,” I said liltingly. And I do like it. Even when the directions are not clear it’s kind of fun to figure out how to get it together.

I haven’t put any Ikea furniture together for a few years, but the last times I did it, I was impressed with how clear the directions were and how good the hardware was. What a difference a few years makes. Today, at about the third step, I was starting to fume. The directions were very clear, it’s just that the pre-drilled holes were not where they were supposed to be – first in one piece and then another and then yet another. I figured out a way with a little extra drilling and nailing, and swearing, to get the parts together, but when we put the drawers in, we found that the front pieces of the top drawers were identical instead of mirror images, so one drawer will not close. (I should have taken pictures.)

Now what? Do we have to take it apart and box it up and return it? Will they replace the bad frontpiece? I hate to think of trying to put together the wardrobe with the glass doors that she bought. I think she should return it all, but there’s no way I’m helping carry those boxes again. I think Ikea should have to come and pick up their badly made crappy furniture if it doesn’t work.

showtime

I was happy to see this when I opened the kiln yesterday. The color on the majolica is pretty clear with just enough white showing through.

These other pieces did pretty well too – a little color fading on the new fish deco, but, now I know that I can’t get the stains too thick and still have the pencil put down enough color to take. There were supposed to be dark Xs on the sides of the fish. (or do you spell that Xes or exes or X’s? I never understand the use of the apostrophe when using numbers or single letters- as in “scratch out all the 2’s and B’s – it just seem weird.)

Sigh. I tried very hard to just let that question hang there, and I swore to myself I would just let it go, but I couldn’t. I had to look up apostrophe use. I guess I am still a schoolteacher somewhere in my heart. Probably no one else really cares and if you don’t, just fast forward to the next paragraph, but if you have the slightest interest, here is the rule:

The plurals for letters and numbers used as nouns are not formed with apostrophes. for example: She consulted with 3 M.D.s. (but use the apostrophe to show possession: She went to 3 M.D.s’ offices.) She learned her ABCs. It was in the 1990s (not the 1990’s). She learned her tables for 6s and 7s. Exception: Use apostrophes with letters or numbers when the meaning would be unclear otherwise. for example: Please dot your i’s. (You don’t mean is.) He couldn’t distinguish between his 6’s and o’s. (You would need to use the apostrophe after the o so it wouldn’t look like os and then you would use it after the 6 for consistency in the sentence.) According to the MLA guidelines, using ’s after numbers is old-fashioned, illogical and unnecessary. (Hah, yer only as old as your apostrophes.)

Whew, talk about a bird-walk. What I really wanted to say is that I am all ready for the CAB+ Show and Sale tomorrow. Joan will be sharing a space with me. Not that there is much space for anyone. There will be about 12 inches between tables and the aisles are pretty narrow. I guess small spaces feel more intimate and comfortable, so in a large space, people have to be pretty jammed in to feel comfortable. With 48 potters and ceramic artists that’s a pretty good start to a crowd. Here’s one of Joan’s beautiful ceramic “paintings”.

I wonder how this event will go. This is my first pottery show although I did countless shows and fairs when I was a jeweler. I am hoping to get feedback on my work from people who don’t know me, and I know I will, just by watching faces even if there are no direct comments, but I really like it when people tell me what they like and what they don’t and why. I do wish the pots were as easy to transport as the silver was, though.

Apple Wars

For the past few days I have been trying to ignore the squirrel wars going on in the apple tree, which means the apples are ripe and if I want any, I better get out there and pick them or the squirrels will take exactly one bite out of each one before they hurl them to the ground.

Right before dusk (at what, 4:30?) I picked these baskets full which is about a quarter of the apples on the tree. The tree is only about 9 feet tall, but as you can see, wildly prolific so I could afford to share with the squirrels, but it’s hard to be kind to such wasteful critters. Not to mention the destruction to the rest of my plants as they dig 4 or 5 holes for each acorn they bury, so I don’t want to encourage them.

Both baskets are from the same tree, but the red ones face the south and the green are on the northern side. It’s a heirloom pippin with thick skin and really crispy meat (apple meat?). They make great pies and keep till spring in a box under the porch.

The little tile on the right has been sitting in my kitchen window for a couple of years. While thinking about new designs for the planters. I noticed it and decided to use it. I have been infatuated by arches (DeChirico) since I was a teenager, although they rarely come out as cutesy as this little chair and flowers. I’ve used the arch theme over the years in many ways.

This one is also from a couple of years ago.

The chair and flowers are without arches on this little planter because, even though I worked for awhile to add them, making arches come out just right on a round pot is hard. I always think there must be some simple mathematical calculation to make it all come out evenly, but if there is, I missed that day in math class or maybe I was there and asleep as usual.

Free-er than before

I was actually pretty happy to see how this serving plate came out. After the events of the last couple days I didn’t know if bad luck was going to continue to follow me.

So you may have read in my last posting that my car was stolen but recovered later the same day, not wrecked or stripped. I was feeling pretty good about not having to go out and buy another car, but the next day at the tow yard or whatever you call the place that holds your car in a garage until you pay them lots of money (2 days storage fees for holding it from 5pm to 9am??), I got mad. All the tools and ceramics materials were gone and the seats were littered with other people’s crap, and the upholstery was torn and gouged. All of the books, and papers in the console were gone including all the checks and records from my class, and in their place were some obvious burglary tools and the only thing they had kept from the clay box I keep in the car – the wire clay cutter. Hmm, wonder why they kept that? Hope it’s not because it looks like something from the Sopranos

I took the car to one of those car washes where they clean the outside and the inside and a friend gave me a sage bundle to burn in the car, which I fired up to “clear away the negative energy” and with the hope that it would cover the stale cigarette smells from the ashtray full of butts.

It is kind of freeing not to have to worry anymore about remembering to drop off all the clothes in the trunk at the Goodwill, or trying to find the right person to give the beautiful, old engraving block and tools to, or taking the time to go to the electronics recycling place and get rid of an old VCR and dead DVD player.

The up side of my car being stolen: No more junk in my trunk?

Walking everywhere now

Walked out my gate this Monday morning on my way to the studio, arms full of stuff and looked across the street to where I had parked my car on Saturday night and it wasn’t there. I couldn’t quite believe it and thought maybe I had just forgotten where I had parked it, so I walked up and down the block a couple of times scratching my head, just to make sure I hadn’t missed it. There weren’t that many cars on the street, so I had to face the fact that it was just gone.

I called Joan who said she would go up and put a sign on the studio door saying class was canceled, asked some neighbors if they had seen anything, and then I went out to pull weeds till the nice officer came to take the police report.

My car is old. The back seat is full of boxes of glazes and other ceramics junk. It doesn’t even have a radio, just a hole in the console where the last CD player was ripped out and I decided not to replace it again. It has high mileage and the gas tank was almost empty. The only thing good about it is that the tires are new.

I knew that Honda Accords are the most stolen cars in the country because of their lack of anti-theft devices but I didn’t know that the older ones were the most targeted. (My 1994 was the most stolen car last year.)

I hate to disappoint the other people who are coming to the studio today, and I was also going to load a kiln for a teacher of the kid’s class who needs them soon, but what could I do?

This car was also stolen a few years ago. It was found a couple weeks later, with minimal damage, and an empty trunk except for one pink ballet slipper. This led to many speculative stories, but we preferred the one about the ballerina with a checkered past who was late for a performance . . .

Update: 3 “suspects” were just arrested driving my car about 25 miles from here.  “It’s not wrecked or nothing” the lady at the police station told me. A cop heard the call about the car and looked up and noticed my  license plate.  Now I just have to wait till tomorrow and go to that town and pay the tow yard a bunch of money to get my car.  Too bad there were 3 of them. Which means at least one was in the back seat, which means they probably dumped all the good stuff in the back seat, including all the records for the pottery class.

Doodlebirds

I’m not feeling too inspired with new designs lately, but I’m getting tired of the old ones, so while making random marks on scrap paper (ok, doodling while talking on the phone), I was reminded of a big platter I did a couple years ago. As you can see, it doesn’t get used for plattering food, but I like to look at it up on this high cabinet with the redwood tree behind it.

I tried the design out on one of the little dipping bowls and was happy to see how little time it took to make. I like it well enough although I may try for a little more of a horizon line or color change at the bottom. What do you think?

The bitty bowl is only about 4 inches across. I make lots of them and sometimes I use them to try out new patterns and colors. This one literally took 3 or 4 flicks of a brush to make each bird, so hopefully other people like it as much as I do. Some of the designs on the little bowls are pretty time consuming.

Most of the time when I am on the phone, I am also walking around doing some mindless chore – phone crunched between my shoulder and ear – but the other day I was sitting in my car listening to a friend vent about her terrible day and I didn’t have the headset for my cellphone, so I didn’t want to drive, but I did have a pencil and some junk mail envelopes to occupy my right hand. This is the only good thing that came out of those doodles. Maybe I should get in my car and call someone.

Wavy Gravy Groovy

I’m not dyslexic, really, but the other day while visiting Gary Rith’s blog, I read wavy groovy bowls, as wavy gravy bowls, and it reminded me of a story. (Wait, does that make me sound like a female version of a codger?)

Wavy Gravy, social activist, comic, clown, and MC at Woodstock, among many other accomplishments large and small – including having a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream flavor named after him, lives around the corner. But that’s not the story, although maybe that’s another one. This one happened many years ago to an old friend.

Abby had just moved to California from New York City and was at a big party in San Francisco. Almost as soon as she arrived, a large affable man came up to her, shook her hand and said, “Wavy Gravy” and welcomed her to the party before moving on. She is a very outgoing person, and, thinking she had just learned a cool San Franciscan greeting, and wanting to make some friends, went up to at least a dozen people, stuck out her hand and said “Wavy Gravy” with her most charming smile.

Youngest daughter has been crazy about Wavy Gravy since she was about 4 because he would come to the Earth Day parades dressed as a clown with his fish on a leash. Wavy Gravy and his wife founded and still run Camp Winnarainbow – a wonderful, well-organized circus performing camp. At 7, she went to Camp Winnarainbow for the first time and fell in love – with stilt walking and high trapeze as well as Wavy. He told the kids around the big campfire about how he used to eat Snickers bars washed down with Coke every night before he went to bed. Then by the light of the fire, he shone a light into his toothless mouth and sent them off screaming to get their toothbrushes to “brush ‘em if you’ve got ‘em.” She went every year till she was too old to be a camper and then was a lifeguard one summer.

So actually, Gary’s bowls are Wavy Groovy Twisty bowls, but that’s another story.

Then there’s the sad tale of my persimmon tree.

Yes, those persimmons are luscious and the color of the persimmon leaves in the Fall are spectacular, but I bought those persimmons at the Farmer’s Market and put them under my tree so it would get the hint to grow some fruit! not just stand there looking beautiful.

old style

Our trip to Kyoto was planned for the day of the Great Pottery Sale with stalls that line both sides of the street for 5 or 6 blocks. It was softly raining in the morning and the subdued light and wispy fog was gorgeous. The rain brought at least a slight decrease in temperature which was a relief, but as we walked the few blocks to the sale, it started to pour and stayed that way for most of the rest of the day. While everyone else dried off in the Camel Cafe, drinking foamy coffee and eating pointy toast triangles, I slogged up and down the street. Hardly anyone was out except the potters huddled under clear tarps, pouring the puddles out of their bowls.

Only one side of the street had handmade wares and some of it was beautifully done, but nothing very different or beautiful and I wasn’t very inspired until I saw this piece. I have to admit to knowing nothing about Japanese pottery, but I kept coming back to look at this. Keiko, the potter, told me it was “old style, fired many times”.

After all the work they went to to make sure we were in the right place and time for the pottery festival, I think my daughter-in-law expected that I would buy a lot more than one little cup, but the looking was what I wanted and the little cup is a bonus.

Where ya been?

Oh yeah! I mean where have I been? A series of unfortunate and fortunate events . . .

Unfortunate? Suffice it to say that the circa 1900 part of my house has now been stripped of a portion of charm, but also of the nasty mold that we finally discovered was hiding under 2 inches of concrete in the bathroom, leaking mycotoxins into the house and making me feel pretty darn awful as I am really allergic to mold. The bathroom was gutted and fogged with Tea Tree Oil!

Fortunate? A truly wonderful trip to Japan with my daughters to see my son and his new wife. We ate delicious, artfully presented food,

saw serene gardens,

a baseball game in the Tokyo Dome,

rode the amazing subways and bullet train, went to my daughter-in-law’s parent’s home for an incredible dinner, walked for miles and miles in Tokyo and Kyoto,

stayed in a really lovely ryokan (traditional inn) and visited Nara for the Festival of the Lights and were followed in the park by tame deer begging for food like big brown Labs with fuzzy antlers.

I could go on and on but to top it off, I can’t say enough great things about my new daughter-in-law, and how carefully Eli and Junko planned the trip so we all got to do the things we were interested in doing.

Now the bathroom remodel is still going on, and the price tag is mounting. Amazing how much work there is to do in an eight by 5 foot room.

Finally, though, I am back to throwing some pots and trying to figure out why my new batch of glaze is getting pinholes when the last batch was so great. It’s a little frustrating because I am preparing for the Ceramic Art Show and Sale at Leslie Ceramics on December 4th. Judging from how many good ceramic artists were at the planning meeting, it promises to be a pretty wonderful event.

(I’m cringing at the glare, but my photo set-up is not set up because of the re-construction.)

Somehow December 4th sounds like a long time in the future. My calendar got a little bit stuck back in August and I’m having trouble moving on into Autumn. I have been helped with that charade because it is about 72 degrees out today and, except for that oblique quality that the Fall light has, it could still be summer.

Curbside Recycling

I passed this chair on my walk this morning and on my way back I saw that the free-newspaper delivery guy had provided reading for anyone who wanted to stop and take a load off. A footstool would be nice. And maybe some snacks. . . .

This is a community with a large and transient student population where it rarely rains between April and November, and many who find themselves with an extra chair, couch, microwave or who have just reorganized or downsized their bookshelves or toolbox and don’t have enough to warrant calling the Salvation Army for a pick-up, offer up the item to the streets for personal recycling. It won’t get ruined by rain and will usually find a good home quickly.

The residents of some streets closer to the university, having been inundated with recyclables closer akin to trash from departing students are not as happy with this practice but in most parts of town, it is looked upon as benign. When someone on our block put out some art books and this framed Beatles poster, I brought home the poster because my daughter is always looking for picture frames for her photographs.

She was happy with the frame but even happier with the picture in it. Husband was curious about this Beatles poster he had never seen and has been searching for information about it to no avail. Anyone ever seen this before? And what do you think the story is under the table??

And on the recycling theme, I successfully recycled this pattern from one on my little bowls onto this serving dish. Some of the patterns from the small bowls got lost in translation and will either never be used again or remain diminutive.

There are no pictures

No pictures and that’s a good thing.

It was a hot day at noon and I had come back from a long walk in the hills and I was understandably overheated. The fastest way I know of to cool off is to have on fewer clothes so as soon as I got in the door of my house, I tore off my shirt and hooked it on my bedroom doorknob.

I live back from the street. There’s a gate that’s hard to open. People rarely come up our walk without calling first, so as I was sitting on the couch, reading while I cooled off, I was shocked to hear a knock on the door. Did I mention that if you are at my front door, you are at a point between the living room and the other parts of the house -like the bedroom where my shirt was dangling?

Meaning, if I was going to answer the door, (and it’s a door with many windows in a room with many windows) it would have to be sans upper body clothing. I thought of running past the door so fast that I would be a blur but didn’t think I could pull it off so I hid behind the one solid wall section, hoping whoever it was would go away.

Whoever it was didn’t go away and the knocks were persistent and loud. I continued cowering till I heard retreating footsteps. I peeked around the corner and caught the eye of my ever-so-nice neighbor as he took one more look back at the house before going down the steps.

I had no choice. I grabbed a big pillow from the couch and holding it casually in front of me, I went to the door and greeted Bill. We both tried to pretend that I was not wearing a pillow as he reminded me that I needed to move my car so because it was street cleaning day.

He had a hip replacement a few years ago and still walks pretty slowly so as soon as he turned to go, I threw my shirt back on, grabbed my keys and was outside before he hit the bottom porch stair. I managed to carry on a decent conversation with him on the walk out to the gate, hoping it would make him totally forget the previous 7 minutes.

I’m not so good at keeping track of the 2nd Tuesday of the month when the street cleaning truck comes. The fine is $37 if your car is left in the way, so I really am grateful for all the times Bob has come over and reminded me, but today I’m going over to his house to give him my phone number.

I wannan electric car

This is the one I want. Isn’t it cute? Just room enough for me and my dog and a little space in back for some stuff – groceries, clay, pots, . . . . When the rest of the family is with me, uh, I guess we take the station wagon.

I have been seeing more and more of this model around town this summer in various bright colors and that cool little stripe. The last time I really looked into an electric car, it was the boxy Zenn which had a top speed of 25 mph – which is almost fast enough for city driving – but not quite. I think that this yellow cutie is a Think car which is supposed to be able to go 62 mph with a range of over 100 miles on a charge.

I first started seeing this golf cartish style around town about 9 years ago. It goes about 25 mph for 30 miles. You can see this one has been used for a long time. It has tent-like plastic “doors” – kind of a fair weather vehicle.

Here are a couple others I passed by yesterday on a walk. The white one is at the electric car dealer’s. Last time I stopped in, they were selling a different type. Today I noticed this WheeGo car and a very strange 3 wheeled dealie that holds 1 person.

So why don’t I just get one? Well, besides the obvious money issues and the fact I already have a car that, although old, still gets me around town, I don’t have a garage, or a driveway. Meaning, no place to plug in! I park on the often crowded street and not always right in front of my house. While I am quite good at parallel parking, I can’t figure out any way to consistently plug in an electric car at the curb. But I still want one.

Below are some more little bowls. Playing with color and decoration to see what might work and what doesn’t – like the blue oval. I liked it before it was fired but the color balance isn’t right – the blue is too intense. The ladder and hoop is from a picture my daughter took on one of her excursions to photograph grafitti and “stuff” near the railroad tracks.

For some family based market research, I – at different times – asked daughter and husband to rate these from favorite to least favorite. They were in the exactly opposite order. Daughter’s favorite was the green and white with ladderish design and husband’s favorite was the leaf pattern at the bottom. I like the vaguely heart shaped circle one in the middle.

Full List

Looking a little like he has risen ecstatically from the sunless underground, this guy can’t help but make me smile with his wild hair. I didn’t think the rutile would stay orange through the glaze firing but I’m glad it did.

The texture on the “collar” is intriguing to me although I am not sure exactly what to use it for. The clay is kind of brittle and flaky, I guess from the sodium silicate. Maybe finding a cool technique and then searching for a reason or a place to use it is backwards, but I just know could be a useful thing to know how to do – for something someday.

I went to the studio today with a long list of things I wanted to get done. I am the “one-in-charge” on Fridays, but usually there are the same few experienced people there who need little help from me so I’m free to do my own work. I guess because it’s summer, there were 5 new people today, 2 of them ready to start pretty ambitious projects that needed much discussion. The new people are all congenial and easy-going which is worth a lot.

Between talking and demonstrations and loading a kiln, my “to do” list is still as long as it was this morning. Oh, wait, I did have time to trim a couple of pots. Scratch 1 item.

When I came home the partner was raving about a movie he had just seen called Food, Inc. He rarely raves. He said it was done really well, not just gross pictures of meat packing companies, but a view of the entire corporate food industry. It will be interesting to see what Monsanto will counter with.

On a happier (but possibly food related note) Gerti is so happy that Tate is living with us for the summer. Can you see the look in her eye? She is fantasizing the glorious chase she would have if she could just get that bunny outside with no humans around . . .

Color feast

The front door to Keeyla's studio.

I went to Keeyla Meadows‘ garden and art open house the other day. Keeyla is an artist and landscaper. I have seen pictures and small examples of her work for years. She has written books and articles and her style has been imitated widely, but I wasn’t sure what to expect when going to her house, studio, and garden in an unassuming part of town.

The back entrance to her studio.

Her specialty is the color palette of plants and their surroundings and the colors in each area of the garden are reflected and balanced – art and building color dance perfectly  with the plants growing there. The attention to detail is  incredible as you can see in the picture above of the back or side door of her studio.  She has another smaller clay studio.

This pot looks small but it is about 30 inches tall.

Passage from the side to the back part of the garden.

It sounds like she has a lot of space, and it feels like it because of all the paths and elevation changes, nooks and crannies, and plant, ceramic and metal visual feasts, but really it is just an average to small urban lot – with no fewer than 4 large water features.

A corner of her studio with pots

This is a metal sculpture- with hanging lights and a fountain at the bottom.

Detail of a large pot tucked in with the nasturtiums.

I’m going out and water my wilting roses now.

Revisions and practice

I wish there was a faster turnaround to see if a color combination works. I am happy with the overall design on the finished bowl, but the colors don’t exactly pop, to coin a phrase. I think the orangey color is not bright enough for the intense yellow. and the very orange dots at the bottom of the bowl stand out too much when they should just add balance. I decided to try the general design again with brighter circles and some delineation on the yellow, so I penciled in a rough design. I don’t know, I get a kind of small thrill about being able to drawing on bisque work, making mistakes and approximations and partial erasures and knowing it will all burn out.

Here it is underglazed and penciled and I’m hoping these colors will be better. The black underglaze pencil fired to a light blue on the bowl on the left. Sometimes it is black and sometimes this beautiful blue. I don’t yet know why, but hopefully, it will go blue on this bowl, too.

I tried to focus on cylinders and bottom thickness in “Barbara’s self-taught throwing class”. Below are the next few pots drying after trimming. I think they were a little thick at the bottom, but after trimming seem to be fine.

These next ones not as warped as my picture makes them look. I think I went overboard on thinner bottoms on these. Maybe the next try will be juuuust right. The, um. let’s call them planters, on the picture above are about 7 inches tall and taller ones on the bottom are about 8 inches tall.

I can only sit at the wheel for about 45 minutes at a time till my back starts rebelling, but it’s longer than I thought I would get. I am thinking about how I can extend this time. I have tried different chairs, etc. but I am looking for a stool with adjustable legs to see if that will help.

My back was just fine till 3 years ago when I laid a stone patio. It was fun – like making a mosaic with really heavy tiles. I picked up at least 5 different stones for each one I laid, to find the one that fit just right in each spot. And who remembers about correct lifting when you are in the middle of making a giant mosaic!

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Violet and her mom came by today to visit and shop for presents. One of the pieces her mom bought was a bird ocarina and Violet gave us a little concert before I wrapped it up. It’s hard for a 3 year old to get her fingers on all the holes, but she can make sound come out, and that’s a start. I haven’t seen Violet for a few months. So much changes so quickly at 3 – but she still likes pink. Purple, she says, is her mom’s favorite color. The last time she was here, she showed me all her ballet moves and the names for each of them and instructed me on how to do them correctly. I just tried to stay upright with my toes pointing in opposite directions.

I got to make clay pancakes with Violet while her mom was looking at pottery. I have to say that her pancake always had more yummy things in it than mine. I think my imagination needs a tune-up.

This plate went home with them because Violet’s dad rides his bike over the Marin county hills that look like this. I have been meaning to do more of these plates. I like the shape, but on the bottom, the round foot is a little like the shadow of a foot. I would like it to be more substantial but still small enough so it doesn’t interfere with the picture on the bottom – same hill silhouette but with just a lone tree.

While I was writing the above paragraph, I kept looking at the word foot, thinking it was spelled wrong. How could any word spelled like that have meaning? I both knew it was spelled correctly and knew that it just looked wrong, wrong, wrong, Has that ever happened to you? Once, long ago, in college (with brain cells still fairly fresh) and new to cooking on my own, I searched for chicken recipes in a big cookbook. After reading each and every one of them I was sure that the word ‘chicken’ was spelled wrong in the book and wondered how they could have published a cookbook with the word ‘chicken’ spelled incorrectly. By now, I know it is a devious trick my brain plays on me occasionally and if I just close my eyes for a minute, foot will look like foot went I open them.

Whole lotta shakin’

Where to run when the ground starts shaking.

Just as I sat down to the computer, I heard a rumbling, the dog tumbling down the stairs, and then the house started to shake. I was a little slow to react since it’s been awhile since we have had a daytime earthquake, but then Gertigirl and I dashed into the living room where we felt much safer. Well, I did. Gerti had no idea what was going on. She just wanted to be with me.

My little house has 2 parts, built more than a century apart. The old part which was built as a temporary shelter in 1900 while the big house on the property was being built, has 7′4″ ceilings and was not built to last, but it has, although there is a definite lean to the north. When we decided to live here a few years ago, we reconfigured the old part slightly and added a new kitchen and living room. Building codes required us to use specially engineered earthquake panels in the new areas. The contractor felt that it was over-engineered for such a small space and the joke was that everyone would run to our living room in a earthquake.

Well, no one else was here but me and Gerti, but we sure got there fast. Now I hear the neighbors in back out talking about earthquakes and where they were when the last big one hit back in ‘89. Yep, makes everyone a little on edge. We don’t worry about killer cold, snow, hurricanes or tornadoes, but there is that tectonic shift issue.

A Little Goes A Long Way

Just to show how much can be put into 36 square feet and still have a spot to stand and a chair to sit on. I have a space to underglaze the pots and a table to handbuild when I don’t feel like driving to the studio. AND all the spiders are gone! (I shouldn’t say all. I read that you are never more than 10 feet away from a spider wherever you are. ) At least all the spiders that could be seen are gone from the inside.

Now that I know that the beautiful black spider that I became so fond of for its intensely protective maternal ways was a Black Widow getting ready to present me with about 500 of its babies, my attitude has become less laissez-faire and more authoritarian. Me in, spiders out.

The little dipping bowls that I made while standing in one spot are drying bottoms up.

I ran into a chalk and chocolate festival in my neighborhood the other day. I forgot it was happening, till we walked up to get a late lunch at The Juice Collective, my favorite sandwich shop, and heard the capoeira drumming. This festival started about 3 years ago and is getting a little better attended each year.

This one might be my favorite, even though he is just getting started. The kids are wishing for a chocolate bar that size.

These drawings are fun, but I’d love to see these guys in action: http://www.impactlab.com/2006/03/09/amazing-3d-sidewalk-art-photo

Unfortunately, they were out of roasted red pepper and feta cheese sandwiches, but I made up for my disappointment by sampling chocolate – lots of different kinds of chocolate. And I’m sure I went home healthier with all those flavinoids and antioxidants. I sure felt happier.

Feels like summer

I took the Gerts out for a walk last evening and I thought, “I love summer!” OK, it is not officially summer, but it was cold and foggy just like summer here often is and, the most exciting part – it was 8:30 and it was still light. Hurray for long days and short nights.

Since it’s summer, my daughter will be coming back on Sunday to live with us for the next couple of months – which I also love. Although between her summer class, her job and her social life, I don’t know how much we’ll see her.

The big issue for me is that I had taken over part of her cute little attic room to paint my pots, with her vintage Beatle’s poster and red wall.

Now this will all be moved out to the studioette. While out there cleaning and rearranging to make room for a painting table I cleared out lots of spiderwebs. This very protective spider parent would not abandon her eggs, so after I reassured myself that it wasn’t a black widow, I had to let her stay.

(later note: Looks like I was wrong, wrong, wrong, about this spider – thanks to Linda and Meredith- read their comments.)

In the fall when I was teaching 7 year olds, and the big beautifully colored garden spiders were in every bush, I would take the kids out to watch and learn all about them. The kids were fascinated (8 eyes! spinnerets!) and would get so excited to see any spider. One day a parent was helping in the classroom and one of the kids saw a tiny spider and called everyone over – “spider, spider!” The mother, thinking she was coming to the children’s rescue, ran over and squished it with her shoe. The kids couldn’t believe it. There were tears.

Spiders are supposed to bring good luck. “If you wish to live and thrive, let a spider run alive”. You would think I would have thought of this sooner, but when the eggs in that sac hatch, my studioette will be filled with up to 1000 babies! Uh, lucky me?

Finished Book

I finally finished this book from the Steven Allen workshop. He said the stain used for the screened image (all of the black parts) would be easily smeared even after the bisque, so the glaze would have to be sprayed on, which is a problem for me, not having a spray booth. I also wanted some color on the image and was nervous about smearing the black if the underglaze touched it, so the “book” sat a few weeks till I got tired of being cautious.

I painted on the underglaze very tentatively trying not to touch any black, till I inevitably slipped and saw that the black stain really didn’t smear that easily, even when wet so I painted right over the stain without any blurring.

I was still worried about putting on the glaze, though, so I used my little metal atomizer to spray enough clear glaze onto the printed surface to cover it and touched up with a paintbrush.

I am amazed at how well this gadget works. It’s really messy though. I should have made a cardboard box “booth” and sprayed into that. Next time.

sitting on the dock of the bay-ayay

Sitting on the dock of the bay

Watching the tide roll away

I’m just sitting on the dock of the bay

Wasting time

Left my home in Georgia

headed for the Frisco Bay . . .

(Thanks to Otis Redding)

Makes sense that this song would be playing in my mental soundtrack as I sat on this dock waiting to meet my daughter at the Ferry Building for lunch, but now I’ve got an earworm and it won’t go away.

If I had gotten the cars to stop or it might look like this picture was taken in the 50s with the streetcar stopped right in front.

After lunch I got on BART subway to ride home under the Bay and Claire walked up the hills and stairs to her place just below Coit Tower. But before we parted she told me she would like to have a pitcher and I saw a challenge. New goal: throw a functional and well-balanced and well-handled (!) pitcher that looks good.

Multi-talented Jana, was a potter when I first knew her. She made special cups for my kids that I still have (cups and kids) and a wonderful pitcher for me that I used for years and years until it developed a small crack in the bottom. By then, Jana was a painter and hadn’t kept any of her pots so it is now back with her. It is kind of a Kool-Aid pitcher shape, so that is what I am aiming for.

Coit Tower through the haze.

Cool Studio

Usually it’s a little hard sometimes to go to the studio on a beautiful, sunny day because it is kind of a dark place with not enough windows, but it was the perfect place to hide out from the heat today. I tried to work in the garden, but by 10am it was too hot. The studio was as cool as I thought it would be and I sat down and started making bowls.

I made these three right off the bat – er, on the bat, and then I forgot how to center I guess, because the next couple got themselves wedged back up into balls of clay to try again.

There was a big birthday party/barbecue going on in the park next to the studio, and a kid’s ball game up on the hill above. There was lots of happy noise right outside the door where kids were playing in the shade of the building’s overhang and when I was leaving, I had to step over piles of candy and bubblegum from the pinata. Bubblegum smells like good memories. After I drove away I wished I had asked for a piece to keep in my car. I could hang it from the mirror like an air freshener.

I came home and watched some more You tube to see what I was doing wrong and got enticed by the thought of a Bison trimming tool. I think my throwing would be much improved if I had a Bison trimming tool Doesn’t that make sense?

This bench with the nasturtium and cilantro flowers shows the overgrown state of my garden. I have been waiting for the winter vegetables to go to seed because I like to use my own seeds, but the waiting is cutting into the new seedlings time.