|every season, turn, turn, turn|
OH! OK, I may not be the poet I think I am, HA!
Am I the potter I think I am?
Teaching, traveling, and showing my work in various locales over the past couple of month's has me looking at my clay endeavor with new eyes. Traveling opens the eyes and upon returning home, I gain new perspectives.
And so another session in my studio begins. This one for the 49th firing of my wood kiln. The scraps of of failed pots and the trimmings of others has been slaked down/pugged, ready to be resurrected/raised into new pots.
There is always SO much hope in this season of the year and in this part of the firing cycle.
Raw clay is nothing but potential, ready for shape, ready to shape.