I Hope To Touch Heaven
Not every firing is successful. Not every pot makes my heart sing in its symmetry. Sometimes the clay swings out of center. Sometimes the well- timed and perfectly planned firing goes awry with the slightest variation missed by the attentive artist. For every beautiful pot I post, there are a handful more that end up set aside, reminders of the lessons learned; experiments in the creative urge being courageously expressed despite certain “failure”.
I love these pots. They are a story of my creative journey, and the memories of where I was, what was going on in my life at the time. Tales of where I was in my development as a potter whisper to me as I walk by. They are like a collection of old friends, or like a writers journal.
This is on of those pots. Imperfect in form, pulled from the fire too soon…sugar and horse hair applied too heavy in a rush of excitement to make something special. A dark pool of black carbon where an artistic and crisp splatter was intended.
It will be sealed tomorrow and then find itself stuffed in a corner of my studio, uncovered years later…..I wonder what memory it will bring back to that girl I’ll be then?
There is beauty here, a moment in time captured. And I love this vase. It is just one mark along the way of my experiment in creation, my dance with the creator, my search for the heaven on earth. I’m closer to all of that when my hands plunge into the wet clay, when the flames dance in the air…when I release my quest for perfection and just let it all flow. Come to think of it….these are the moments when I touch heaven.