The mess of clay brings me back to my childhood, country play, hours digging in the earth. There is great satisfaction of filth beneath one’s nails after a day well spent rolling in grass, scraping up loam, building—all under a fresh pale blue sky in early summer.
The practice of throwing clay is an ongoing journey, and one I’m just dipping in to. I leaned toward clay in order to sculpt. Working in fabric is meditative and rewarding, but I wanted to push beyond the craft of needle and thread, juxtaposing soft materials with hard. Always I’m thinking of new juxtapositions, of nature, of man-made materials, and the woman-made.
It’s nice to learn new skills. These plates were made by molding clay, and were kind of a toss off for me. But, after a few dips in glaze, voila! I find these two friends.
