Friday, February 6, 2009
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.
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.
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