The cold dark days of enforced indolence. Wish I was working with the clay but the studio is closed. Been spending time in the house doing some odd jobs and painting (my own stuff).
Thinking about the creative process and what it means. Could discuss this in volumes. But the interesting thing to me, especially when it comes to ceramic sculpture, is how much the endeavor is an extension of both body and mind. This is new to me, beyond visible, beyond tactile, more of a core expression. At once it is part of yourself and very much outside of yourself.
Interesting also that shape and dimension and all the high-falutin’ things I think about are constrained by the physical and chemical characteristics of the clay. The sculpture can fail on the way to the kiln, burst once inside, break on the way home, (until now almost everything I’ve built here in Boston comes home in a bag on my bicycle!). If it doesn’t survive you have to re-design for next time or give up on the idea. From a Darwinian perspective this is very much a discussion of selective pressures.