The day I came back to Brooklyn after the trip to Montauk I skipped going to the apartment and went to the studio with my backpack on me. I could still see the open horizon that surrounded me the previous few days in mind and coming back to industrial Brooklyn made me wonder if being in an enclosed space was actually good for me or not. Although, the sound of cars and trucks resembled the sound of waves a bit. I checked on the drying pieces that had already started showing cracks even before I took off to Montauk. I worked on them as sketch pieces so I worked quickly, but I should have worked more with care so I could have had good uncracked works. But what's so bad about cracks on sculpture pieces? I decided to accept them as they were and move on to the next.
I started working using recycled sticky sculpture clay with lots of grog and sand, which feels like crack proof or so I hope. I massaged it a bit here and there and and tried building a form but was not able to get my hands and mind to work. I only stayed for a few hours without having done anything much and left to home. My head hurt. I fell asleep. I woke up in the morning but was not able to pull myself up, I had low energy. I fell asleep again. I was on on off sleeping for 24 hours. And then another 24 hours went on with a series of complicated dreams. In one of which I was in a front row center seat viewing a theater performance where actors were dressed in an abundance of fabric on a stage of sea of fabrics. The play was organized by a textile company - I was thinking of a future play involving lots of ceramic sculpture pieces and then woke up before seeing the ending part of the play.
I finally got out of the bed and was headed to the studio feeling like an wrinkled old laundry that did not get either the sun nor the fresh air for a long while. I went through emails, invoices, shipments, and bills, and did not touch clay. Tomorrow I will start making.