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.

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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.