Sonja Christiansen-Iversen

One of my mentors died this last Tuesday Feb 3. She was a great potter and a beutiful person that gave freely when needed. She gave me my first kiln minutes after we first met. It was a 35 ft2 Minnisota Flat Top. The only stipulation to the gift was that I call her every time I fired it, of course I did. She would come over and look through the pots as I took them out, and pick out the best ones. She would not let me give them to her, she always insisted on paying for them. "This is a juicey one" she would say and put it in her little stack. She helped me through some hard times and some good times and I will miss her.

What do we make now

What happens when we have an economic slowdown? Does it mean that the "trickle down" has stopped? The money does not disappear, somebody still has it but it seems more like somebody stole it and they are sitting on it for a while. So what do we do? We need to stay busy, do things that we need to do, buy things that we need to buy, we need to live, maybe not the same but we need to live. I know a lot of good musicians that play, not for money, but they play and enrich our lives and make any get together better. They carry on the songs and remind us to sing and dance even if we have nothing else. We are still craftspeople that make things, so what do we make.

It seems that in a time when people are scared, we make things that have vitality, that are solid, that people can use everyday, we apply our skills to our material just like we always have and trade it off for food or housing or a glass to drink from or even something that makes us smile. My dad was a product of the great depression but because of where he grew up those people did not know there was a depression, nothing really changed. They were always in a draught with the wind kicking up dust into your mouth making everything a little gritty, and nobody ever had any money. Despite this fact they had dances in their little town, ice cream socials, weddings, births and life carried on. He must have liked places like that, (that don't change)because I grew up in a town that was practically the same. It seems that we forget how resilient we are. We have been fed fear for so long we seem to transfer it from one thing to another always scared and running. I like to think of that book EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN. Be nice to one another, share the crayons and play at recess.

Mud Good

I was at my local clay supply looking at the bulletin board when I noticed an article done by a team of scientists in the UK. The study confirmed that people who came in contact with earth, those who got dirty on a regular basis, tended to be happier. The article went on to talk about negative ions, bacteria and such, but the main precept was that dirt = happy. The article alone made me feel good, as being a potter you tend find the clay all over you and in this day and age people tend to think that dirty is bad, and you tend to attract looks when you head over to the coffee shop. I, on the other hand have fond memories of dirt and clay an intregal part of my childhood. I lived at the confluence of the Bad and Missouri rivers and worked on farms and ranches for much of my early life, dirt was everywhere and it had an unnatural attraction to kids. The smell of turned earth on a summer night still illustrates my dreams.

I could not find the article but here is supporting data from another aticle, Is dirt the new prozac? 

How Much Power

How is it that we can be so powerful and not know. Nelson Mandela said when he go out of prison after something like 20 years said 'we fear our own power'. We have the power to sway peoples opinions, to lift or lower their moods, to help them or break them with just a few words and of course this power controls our own moods and feelings. I know at times I have been so down trodden, broke and hungry that I felt nobody could take anything more away from me, and at one point I discovered that I was alright with that, and at that point in time I was the most powerful I have ever been, because I forgave everyone for everything and that included myself. I have started to believe that the fear is worse than the reality with most things. If I let go of the fear of failure or think of it as a means of change it no longer comes between me and what I want. Forgiveness of your own failures and those around you that fail becomes a learning and strengthening experience. 

In my education as a potter, I have made thousands of bad pots. I have had bad firings, bad glazes, bad clay, terrible ideas that all informed me in one way or another. If I always made stuff that I knew would turn out I would stop growing and that is unacceptable to me.

.

Tools of the Trade

This weekend a few of us visited the De Young museum in San Francisco. One of the exhibits consisted of Persian weaving, not just the rugs but storage bags, camel trappings, etc. I was fascinated by the intricacy of the designs and wondered at the complexity of what went into the making of such things, the dyes, looms and all the time. I wondered if the makers would recognize the small differences of other weavers and know who did what or what tribe or village they were from. Then I noticed a picture on the wall next to one of the hanging weaving. The picture was of a women, bare-footed but with an intricately woven shawl on her back, sitting squat over a half finished rug with small spools of different colored wool scattered about the point of her attention and her fingers. The rug was bound onto a frame of four large branches. That is the loom, that is it: four big sticks that make a frame that lay on the ground that the weaver squats on and makes priceless things with wool and knowledge and her time in the midst of the desert. There are no overly cleaver means or mechanics involved, craft and imagination are all that is needed.

I have been a potter long enough to know that all I really need is: clay, fuel, a match and time that was not occupied with making a living, but I was somehow overwhelmed by the idea that these crafters lived in such a place that this was possible, that craft lived stretched out in the middle of the village, no permits, no environmental impact, no certificate no deed necessary. She knows that whoever she makes this for is not going to settle for something found cheaper at the mall. This is part of who they are and the patron knows exactly what went into the making, as they have seen her out there working on the weaving. Many of the makers that I know make their own tools. Most likely because their vision makes a special tool a necessity. Clever but not overly so, and with need in mind.