I spent some time tonight drawing with a great bunch of college kids who are volunteering for a big open house at the art school where I work. These are kids (I use the term lightly, they're college kids) who have normal, get-a-job-kind of majors at a University that will look nice on their resumes and they are smart. Because the school doesn't let non-majors take studio art classes, these guys started a creative arts club. And because they kindly offered to help serve donut holes and wedge clay on Saturday for our show and tell, I brought some ink and pencils and small still life objects to their meeting to do a drawing boot camp. It's ridiculously easy and fun to draw with strangers. I urge it for everyone.

Now, this weekend is shaping up to be a bizz-izz-y one for me. There's the Art Bars opening on Friday night and the Open House on Saturday. Luckily, I only have to get dolled up for the art bars thing and that's only because my work is going to hang on a wall alongside Carrie's and that's a bit daunting. I'm daunted. So I spent my lunch break I running around looking for a fancy shirt and tomorrow I'll run around looking for a haircut. I'm pretty excited to see those chocolate bars, to meet the other 2005 artists, to spend some more time in the People's Republic of Ithaca. But with all the running around getting ready for all the show and tells and openings and open houses and new houses and all that...
I'm wondering why everything can't be slower. More mundane and less anxiety, please. But if you happen to be anywhere in upstate new york, I'd love to meet you this weekend. I'll be the one running around eating chocolate bars, in the new shirt, drawing with stangers.

Take good care and stay outta trouble,
Rachael

Today I am simply caught up in the glee of having nowhere pressing to be, a new place, a working oven cooperating with my cookies and focaccia and a brand new attic studio. I was worried about the cold but everybody has little heaters on sale and with that and the door closed I will have a toasty and productive place to paint and draw. I love looking out at my street from the attic windows and watching all the little men shovel the sidewalk.

Oh blessed be the domestic! I've got more putzing around to do but I just didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you, it's lovely getting emails and wonderful things like Mark's teapot in my mail. I am excited to discover the Everson's online clay exhibit and to know that anytime i want I can grab some focaccia, a hot mug of bresh tea, and hop upstairs to draw little men shovling little sidewalks with little plastic shovels.

joy!
Rachael

After about 6 hours of attempts we are off to purchase store bought rolls for our Thanksgiving table contribution. My rolls are flaky, sticky, dry or just bland but I am richer for the experience I think. Both my man and I have a couple of days off (in a row), we are truly unpacking and storing stuff into drawers and cabinets, and the light dusting of snow is pretty. Got so much to be thankful for...
Food and health . I have good luck with both. Just hope I didn't jinx it...
Family. They know who they are (the painters and movers and wise women and men).
Shelter. We have this new old house. Feels so good to not worry if they can hear us in the downstairs apartment.
Friends. All over the country there are troublemakers who we love and who seem to like us back.
And then there's the lovely dirt .

I'm seriously thankful for all the clay and clay teachers and potshots and the freedom to play:
We're back to being t.v. free (our temporary living had cable) and I took a bunch of ceramics coffee table books out of the library (what my friend calls "clay porn" because they're so glossy and you just look through and ooohhh and ahhh). As the rolls burnt and dried out I was sitting there reading about Scripps College in the 1950s (now I know why they're called Soldner wheels!) and Peter Voulkos (who seems so Pollock-y) and I'm kind of embarrased that I thought ceramics was so boring because all I want to do now is play around in the dirt, learn more, and see what comes out of the next kiln firing.

But now I have to go buy some rolls...
take care and be good,
Rachael

 

Today they morphed from paper to clay and my friend Jody says she'll show me how to make paperclay so there could be big changes ahead for my paper dolls. I have a hunger for articulating these figures and I am very excited about what can happen when I have a whole village of the dang things. Below, is a more recent paperdoll. They're coming out paper still. They're simply coming out all sorts of ways.

Also today I had the amazing treat of this glaze accident...

 

It's on a pinch pot I'd made around a balloon mold and now it really looks like a glowing hematite brain. If I can manage with my old school technology I'll get a picture of the bowl but it's the glaze that is gleeful.

that's all the show and tell I have right now but it's a week to be thankful, show-offy, and hopeful,
I call.

I've been reading about radical pottery and been fascinated by the Brothers Kirkpatrick and their Anna pottery (pig flasks and snake jars and all with messages and meaning). I'm amazed by the pigs and the porkopolis and the passion with which clay and vessels and everyday things could be imbued with message.
that's all aside from more unpacking and painting and moving and settling and making run-ons and drawings that can't stop.
More soon, I suppose,
Rachael