The convalescent potter

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After so long away from the clay, a rapprochement with the workshop feels like  convalescence.  At first one can only achieve a few small tasks of daily life, usually the undemanding or mildly pleasurable.  This apparently means throwing colanders, and, surprisingly, wedging up recycled clay.  I’ve felt too ceramically languid to tackle glazing or even bisque firing.

The heat wave is still with us:

1 in the house

By early afternoon the garage is on the shady side of the house, which encouraged me to take on some more clay processes.  In the first instance this was a lot of washing up

2 washing up

tidying and binning.

3 tidy

I couldn’t bring myself to de-spider the library (ideas that might work one day, and, even more important, awful warnings I should never do again)

4 library

but I cleared and audited the ware shelves.  There is a surprising amount waiting.  This is because I can’t find a glaze and decoration I like for the white stoneware, but at least there are plenty of gash pots to try things out on.  The past presides over the future.

5 ware

Amnesia seems to be part of the potter’s complaint from which I have been suffering.  I had completely forgotten that years ago someone gave me these china paints, still treasured away in their little chest

6 paints

and when I got in among the mouse poos and cobwebs in the oxides and extras box, I found all sorts of things.  Ilmenite?  What on earth was I planning to do with ilmenite?

7 mouse poo

Better think of something quick.  Or then again, let’s not risk a relapse.

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2 responses »

  1. I am ‘The Intermittent Potter’ now and have similar experiences. I did manage a massive clearout of old stock though, taking it all to my favourite Charity Shop over a period of a several weeks. As it has mostly gone from their shelves too, I allow myself a warm glow.

    • Nothing like a turn-out to give one that five-pounds-thinner feeling, especially if someone else benefits too. I’m sorry not to see regular pottery updates on your blog, but imagine that gluing your own canoe (or whatever one does to construct them) is a real time stealer.

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