Dry(ing) Spell

I have hit a literary dry spell, it would seem.  Vacationing and getting ready for a new school year has taken the front seat, but only on the written page.  I've been burning the midnight oil about 5-6 days a week in the studio, and I'll be excited to begin posting the results, for better or for worse, right here.

First, I have been playing.  Playing in clay, polymer, paint, metal, and even a little glass.  I haven't made anything monumental, but in the pottery arena I have been practicing pulling more refined mug handles, and throwing mugs that are big enough for an actual grown-up to use.  Clay shrinks three times in the pottery-creation process; once to dry, then again with the bisque firing, and yet again with the glaze firing.  I have to make a mug about 12% larger with wet clay than I want the final product to be (did I ever mention I was not required to take math in college because I had 2 years of advanced spanish?  Who knew I would actually need math in my adult life? ¡Que lastima!).  I am also practicing on making larger bowls (which means centering larger amounts of clay with my wimpy, gummy arms), making pendants, studying new glaze combinations, and -the thing I am most excited about this week- making hand built wall hangings I am calling "Relic Boxes".

(Tangent alert!)

When I lived in Costa Rica there was a huge church that was built on the site where a small girl was said to have found a little Madonna and child image that was carved from black stone.  The small item is said to have been retuned to her by the Virgin Mary herself (as the story was told to me) and the priests in that town believed it to be a sign, building an amazing cathedral around that one small stone object.  That simple totem was elevated to a place of great honor, somehow separating it from its common beginnings, telling anyone who looked upon it that it was no longer ordinary.

Stone Madonna and child encrusted in gold and jems.

 The four inch stone in the massive shrine at the front of the cathedral (way up between the two angles near the dome, utterly invisible from the chapel).

(Tangent explination....) 

As most of us do, I have several small, random, and utterly non-monetary-value items that mean the world to me; a little trinket Adam gave me when he was little, a tiny vase that belonged to my grandma, a tiny card that Stephanie gave me long before she got sick, before I ever imagined she wouldn't be here anymore.  These items seem rather unimportant on the little shelf where they sit in the studio, unrelated and undefined, but to me, they are truly valuable.

I began to think about how sometimes a space can define what it contains, the way a book jacket hints to the mysteries contained in a book. I created my first Relic Box with the idea that a simple object could be placed inside, communicating it's secret, though not necessarily universal, value.

 I'm looking forward to creating more of them and seeing if they call to anyone else the way they call to me.

First unglazed Relic Box, still drying.