The worst part about being crafty is the little voice inside my head that always says “I could make that”. It’s a curse. I have more ideas than time. Half finished projects (huh! where IS that toybox I started at Christmas!). I’ve made a lot of pottery in the 15 years of making pots. There are some pieces I’ve made that I could care less about…in fact, have totally forgotten about, until I go to someone’s house, open a cupboard to get a mug or whatever, and am confronted with shelves of pots and plates and mugs that I made. (True story – ask any one of my friends). It’s weird. Like all these little things I put so much care into making, and then they are gone from my life. Probably the reason why I feel sometimes like my heart is two sizes too big. But anyways, I digress. There are very few pieces of pottery I’ve made, that I am attached to. One, is this pot:
The two other things I’ve made that I LOVE, are a fern and frog pottery tile, which I actually made twice unsuccessfully before ending up with the below tile. I had it framed in an outrageously expensive frame, and it is my object d’art. It’s awesome and reminds me that if you want something, it IS worth working hard for, even if you have to make it over and over to get it right.
And the last thing is the Picasso/Cervantes plate, just because it’s awesome and turned out. I never use it for fear of breaking it.
Which brings me to my point. A month ago, carrying my pot up the stairs, I tripped on a stair and BROKE it. It smashed, on the carpet. Everyone was home, and heard it break. My children just came and sat beside me on the stairs. It was quite a moment. In perspective, I know I can make another one – it’s just a pot. So last week, I threw a new pot. It’s not for me. But I like it because it has sort of the same shape as the one I broke. (Actually, kind of reminds me of a coffee cup with a lid – huh). Today I trimmed it up at the studio, left it to dry out a bit before a bisque firing next week. It’s not going to have a pottery handle on it, so I left two holes to thread some wire through for the knob.
Tonight we watched the movie UP. So many things in that movie that are hard to explain to a five and two-year old. I’m such a sap, I always cry a little bit at the end because it’s such a great story. I was thinking of the old man, and how he lets his house go at the end, and watches it sink down into the clouds. So I got up had a look at my broken pot. Chucked it in the garbage.