It was great coming to the clean studio. Good work needs a clear mind and a clear space. I heard from a few people that they have read the blog. It is great to know that someone somewhere out there is reading it and I'm not writing to the void. I wonder how eyes of the audience alters the way I think as I write. If I was living on an island alone how would I be different? Would I be wearing clothes, would I be making ceramics? Would I be digging my own clay and keep making things, creating a pile of ceramics like a mound of oyster shells? Thinking about the last man of the earth painting series of Dana Schultz. Would I loose the purpose of making or would I be amusing myself?
I got better in making tall pieces than a few days ago and I can visualize achieving the form better. I was having a hard time wedging a big lump of clay - 6 pounds okay but 8 lbs no so much, but today I felt good handling 8 lbs. Like a gentle touch of a finger tip marks clearly on wet clay comfortable hands show immediately on the clay form. Now I'm remembering how mosquitos like to hang out on a freshly thrown clay surface. They must be thiking that it is human skin. Isn't that strange? They are on it for a long long time, like 10 minutes or even 20 minutes without moving and seem to be sucking no blood on a grey flesh. Actually clay does feel like skin. The first time I touched porcelain I freaked out because it felt so much like baby's soft cheek or fresh pizza dough. It felt alive. Like many mythologies from around the world say that us human has emerged from clay Japanese people were supposedly came out from mud of a rice field. This makes me a child of rice.
Although clay irritates my skin. I got a rash from not cleaning my arms and letting clay dry on them during throwing. My clay is nothing like what we came out of and comes in a plastic bag delivered in a truck from a NJ supplier. No plants would grow in it. Those mosquitos should not be sucking on it.
Another hibiscus flower has bloomed facing the window. The studio looks the best in the morning when it is lit by the low sun. I came in this morning and mopped the floor again. I am pretending to be like a monk, thinking how people in Japan sweep the floor and streets in the morning. I am imagining things in the air relax and settle on the ground while we sleep at night. As I mopped the floor I went through today's program in my head. It is like a meditation. The studio is facing Grand Street where big trucks drive by but in the early morning it is still quiet.