Meanwhile, back in the studio. . .

Calla Lily Mug

I loved this mug. Completed in 2024, I have used it as My Favorite mug ever since. I love the colors and the glaze. Yes. I love this glaze. It was just the right size, about a 3" diameter, and 4 1/2" tall, and the handle was generous. But. The handle was also the weak point. I like the style of it, but it was on the thin side. Still, it never let me down until I knocked it with a ceramic coaster a couple of days ago. The handle broke into 2 pieces. 

I've left a lot of possessions behind in my 71 years. Just Stuff. But there are a few things that are more than stuff to me. Fortunately they are all small objects. This was one of them. I've made mugs since that had these components;  the calla lilies, the glaze,  the form, but this particular mug was always my favorite. It's funny how very subtle differences can alter one's feeling about an object.

Broken handled mugs

It is the nature of ceramics objects that they break. It is a marvelous material in many ways, but nothing about it is permanent unless it's put away and not used. And that's never my intention.

So. Now I'm on a quest to make a "perfect" mug. Maybe thrown, maybe hand built. I don't know. Even when one takes notes (which I don't often do), it's hard to reproduce an item, so the new one will have to be Something Different.

Thrown and appliqued mug

First, the utter failures. The above are two hand built mugs. I used a new handle technique that I had seen on a YouTube. Needless to say I won't use it again. I think I made it thinner than I should have, but I don't like the lack of grace of these handles anyways. 

The mug to the left is ok. It's got a nice feel to it, is appropriately thin at the base, and interesting. The proportions don't feel quite right to me, though. It's 3 1/4" wide, and 4 1/4" tall. Too wide for it's height, I think. So that's not it.

Cone-shaped mug

The next two mugs are still unfired greenware. I wanted to experiment with the cone shape again. Early experiments with this form were not successful, but I have a better handle on hand building now.

I still like the idea of a simple cylinder mug (below), but it has to be exactly the right proportions to work. Well, it doesn't, but that's what I'm looking for. I've made a bunch of cylinder mugs that were either a little too narrow, a little too short, or not quite a pleasing proportion. And what with varying clay shrinkage rates, it's hard to predict how it will work out. The mug below was just made this morning, so it is super green.

Simple cylinder mug

Finally, how about a couple of successes? What? That never happens. 

I decided to make some tiles, using varying techniques, all of which would be flat.

This idea comes from a very pragmatic place. Some friends of ours are uncomfortable with my carved porcelain coasters. I love them, but also get that not everyone likes the uneven surface, even though drinks do sit on them evenly.

First, the original tiles, aka coasters:

Carved Porcelain Tiles

These were so fun to make. I started with porcelain slabs, let them dry to leather hard, and then carved into them. Then, I made a plaster cast of the leather hard tiles so I can make them again and again if I so chose. The porcelain is fired to full vitrification, so it is as tough as it can get, and I love the look of the unglazed vitrified porcelain. It looks pure, right?

But. On to something with a level surface.

Both techniques are borrowed from my vitreous enameling toolbox. The tiles below are screen printed (screens I made myself years ago for enameling) using either a wet colorant (engobe), or a fine powder colorant called Mason Stain. After bisque firing they are glazed with a sage green celadon (transparent) glaze.

Screen Stoneware Tiles

The Mason stains (tree root tiles) were a pain to work with, because they were still loose after the bisque firing. This means they were Very Easy to smudge before the final glaze was sprayed on. The engobe was much easier to work with, but messier. Always something.

Because the celadon glaze is very shiny after firing, I had to etch it with a very nasty material to remove the shine, and make the surface less slippery. 

Speckled brown clay tiles with decals

The tiles below are a brown speckled stoneware. They were glazed with a matt white glaze, and then a decal (that I made, also for enameling) applied and refired at a lower level to fix the decal. The glaze actually absorbs the iron oxide in the laser printed decal. Cool, huh?

Both techniques are a success. The tiles feel so good in one's hands. . .cool and smooth and substantial.

So. Failures are great for learning and heartbreak, but everyone needs a success from time to time.

 

 

 

Treacherous Beauty

 I decided to hike on the Messalonskee Stream Trail today. I don't often go there anymore, even though it's close. Jasper's absence is always most apparent when I'm hiking in the woods. His joy, his engagement, was always mine too. And even though I don't feel unsafe when I walk alone, I used to feel so safe when he was with me.

We've had a couple of light snowfalls in the past few days. It is so beautiful in these woods, and once up into the trail, the snow absorbs any sound so that the silence seems to have its own presence. Unfortunately, the snow came on top of a freeze-thaw-freeze cycle, which means that the light dry snow overlays solid ice flows, making walking treacherous. It is particularly dangerous in areas where the trail is no longer level. Even my beloved crampons can't overcome the slipperiness, because the snow prevents the crampons from digging in. So I didn't hike my usual 3 mile there-and-back, but stopped at the 2nd bridge, which is over a usually noisy stream. But it is silent now. It is completely iced over.

The snow lays heavier on the hemlock branches than I first thought. It's not heavy enough to break them, though that's always a concern.

I am finding this winter harder to bear than previous ones. . .this is our 5th winter in central Maine. The weight of international and domestic events, and the overwhelming mean and foolish behavior of our country is taking such a toll. I am tired and sad and frustrated. And for the first time, I am often cold. I love dressing for winter. . .I love handmade wool sweaters, socks, mittens and hats. So this feeling cold is new for me. Between the heat generated with hiking and being appropriately dressed, I rarely experience cold. But standing in protests with a sign for an hour or two leaves me chilled to the bone, metaphorically and physically.  

Sorry to be less than cheerful. I am wishing you all, at the very least, metaphorical warmth. 

And an admonishment to myself to live like a dog. In this very moment.

 

 

Moon Shadows

Winter has brought some exceptionally cold days. Single digits and icy walkways hardly beckon, but moon shadows do. On our nightly postprandial walks these tree shadows on the white snow are ethereal. I try to let myself sink into them. 

I am lucky enough to live in a world of beauty. Some of it I make (or try to), but much of it is all around us. It's just waiting for us to immerse ourselves, take a deep breath, and hold onto a moment, however briefly.

Like trying to catch the sight of a dappled forest in summer, the camera doesn't do a great job of capturing this image. The fact that it surrounds you may be part of that, but I think that the objective eye of the camera is just not up to the multiple sensory components our bodies take in. The deep breath (cold fresh air), the cold nose, the warm mittens, the crunch underfoot . . . the whole bit. 

And the quiet. 

 

Pottery again

I have a number of things to finish up in the studio before the Solstice holiday begins in earnest. This is a bowl (cereal/ice cream sized)  I made for one of my Grand Sons. I ordered a speckled brown cone 5-6 clay from a supplier in New Mexico (via Amazon of all things) because I could get a smaller quantity (25 pounds as opposed to 50), and have been unhappy with the moisture level of the clay from a more local supplier. The speckles are from the clay. The glaze, I think, is close to divine. Three glazes, actually. I used this combination on several pieces. And yes. You did read that correctly. I like the glaze.

In contrast, I am not so happy with the glaze on the oblong dish. It was supposed to be a Copper Matt, and you can see that it is really Not Matt. Shiny appeals to a lot of folks, but I really prefer a matt finish, especially when there is so much texture in the piece. The glare detracts from it, in my opinion. But I know less all the time, it seems.

I've been working on consistent throwing by making these medium sized bowls. . .more snack than cereal size. I should really just measure them, shouldn't I? Anyway, again the glaze I really like, but notice the difference on that middle bowl. . .in both the glaze and the size.

No speckles, of course, because the middle one is porcelain. But it also shrunk more, and the lip was slightly deformed after firing. Not a big deal. Just instructive if I can remember it.

Below is the first tall vessel I threw as a result of taking Bill Van Gilder's "Throwing tall" online class. The piece is heavier than I'd like, but it's ok for a 4th try. The others went back into the clay bucket. It's a case of "Hate the glaze, love the glazer". Well, maybe don't love her, but don't hate her as much as the glaze might suggest.
 

Finally, I've been messing around with making some tiny birds (and a bunny) for the tree that I made for the holiday. These are fun little pieces, and I learned a lot from making them. For one thing, I need to put a loop on the end of the nichrome wire that's embedded in them so I can hang them to glaze them in the kiln. Always an issue. Glaze sticks to the kiln, so I left the bottoms unglazed, but the loop thing would let me glaze the entire piece. These guys are about 1.25" long. Very small. Very fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's been especially cold, but I have a space heater in the studio, and it's such a pleasure to immerse myself in the making. The garden is resting, the heated bird bath stopped heating today, and I do worry about all of those tiny birds keeping warm enough. I know they evolved with this weather, and it simply amazes me that they survive Out There. Stay warm, Sweethearts. 

The world between the worlds. . .

Kissing ball with Everlasting Mistletoe

It's that time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I usually really enjoy bringing out and making all of the holiday stuff. This year, however, all I can think about is how much I miss having Jasper to supervise. I am so glad that we'll spend the solstice/Christmas with our youngest. I think it would be terrible to be home with WeTwo, rather than WeThree.

I decided that my usual swags were too much effort this year, so I decided to make a "kissing ball". I have lots of greens, my Everlasting Mistletoe (see below), and ribbons. Initially I thought I'd have to go try to find a Floral Sphere, but it turns out that a potato served just fine as the base. Perhaps predictably, this turned out to take a lot more time than swags usually do, but it was sort of fun, and would be a great group project. You'd be shocked at how many branches it took to make this little guy.

The original Everylasting Mistletoe.

 

From the bottom: Bejeweled

This year's "tree"

It's funny how the past comes to the fore sometimes. I remembered the "tree" that Beth and I made when we were in graduate housing. . . branches I'd pilfered from the grad housing grounds, and decorations with salt dough that she and I made. I have somehow continued that tradition, after years of the 16' live tree and all of the ornaments etc. I decided sometime after we moved to Boise that I didn't really like killing a tree, and my backyard trees can always use a bit of pruning.

This year's "tree" is in a vase that belonged to John's grandmother. . .it's a lovely cut-glass piece. The real deal, not pressed glass.

Then, with the leftovers (we can't possibly throw them away) another arrangement in my hand-built green vase. It's all very festive, and I'm glad it's here. I decided to make some ceramic birds for the tree, rather than the feathered dollar-store creations that I usually use. You'll see them here in about a week.

Leftovers shine

 

Happy holidays to all. Enjoy lighting the dark.

After a 50+ year hiatus. . .

 I was lucky enough to take 3 years of woodworking in high school.  Charles W. Woodward High School no longer exists due to a decreasing high-school aged population in the northern Washington D.C. suburbs, but I was one of the first classes to graduate from that school in 1972. Our wood shop was state of the art, but when I entered 10th grade it was inconceivable that a girl would want to take a class in it. After some humiliation, and my Dad's intervention, I was allowed in. 

At my tenth high school reunion, the teachers of that class told me how they had dreaded my taking the class. They also told me how wrong they had been. I, of course, was completely unaware of all of that. I just wanted to Make Things, and up until that point, I had been limited to things that were acceptable for girls to do. Paint. Draw, Sew, Knit. My father had always included me in his projects, appreciating that I had hands small enough to help him extract the spark plugs of his Karmann Ghia. But these interests were not common for girls. They were unbecoming.

That experience of wood shop. . .being instructed on the safe use of tools, including the table saw, band saw, radial arm saw, router, joiner, planer, and of course, the lathe. . .was pivotal for me. I loved the tools. Loved them. I loved what they enabled me to do, to build, to make. They also enabled me to dream of what I could make in a completely new way. 

It's been over 50 years since I saw a functional wood shop. So when Mark Wheeler, (see 10/29 post,) suggested that I turn a bowl in his shop, how could I refuse? The fear of failure, or worse, embarrassment, always lurks, but still. How could I not try? Mark is a competent and patient guide. I originally was going to call this post "The Power of Yes", but I'm pretty sure I'd be stealing that phrase from my youngest daughter. It remains true, though. While my current sensible self certainly questioned this particular "yes", I am so glad I risked this particular failure, to take this small path out of my comfort zone and the opportunity to work with another artisan who has the ability to understand a life that compels Making.

Unexpected Beech Leaves

Here's something I've noticed for the 4 autumns we've lived here. The beech trees, especially the smaller/younger ones, hold on to their leaves long after they are useful to them. Lots of trees do this. . . we had a Pin Oak in Idaho that didn't drop her leaves until spring. Delayed abscission in horticultural parlance. 

But the beeches are different this year. In past years, the leaves that hang on became a translucent white. We call them "ghost trees". They are a special kind of beautiful. This year, the leaves just turned brown. I'm wondering if the extreme drought is responsible for this? Then, the Plant Physiologist in me wonders if there are implications for their cold hardiness as a result of this lack-of-transition. Have they failed to shuttle down as many carbohydrates for wintering?

Well. We'll see. I am looking forward to the first snow, though the pragmatist in me says to be more circumspect. Ha. 

I had a Jasper Memorial hike this morning. The sky is blueblueblue, and the air was cold and still. My favorite kind of weather.

As in the grocery store, I like to pause for a minute or two, and contemplate my surroundings. The images don't do these middle-aged White Pines justice, but just looking up at them makes me realize how truly marvelous they are. What a gift.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Hemlock (turn right at the Hemlock) is like a dressed up ingenue, ready for the dance.

 And the grocery store? A construct that is so easy to take for granted. . .but once you start thinking about how many products, vendors, places of origin, sources of produce, and the management of it all; you quickly realize what a miracle of civilization our common grocery stores are.  

And just like that. . .

It feels like winter is here. We've put out the Christmas lights early because of an event that we're hosting this week, and I brought in a bunch of the hardier herbs, because even they will be challenged once it's below 28F or so.

Tuscan white beans, rustic bread, my garlic keeper and rescued sprigs of rosemary from the garden. We had a dusting of snow today. That was unexpected. But as I said to a friend, the first snow is magic. . .the last, not-so-much.

 My throwing has been way off here lately. I once again threatened to get rid of the wheel and all of its attendant tools. But I reviewed a Bill Van Guilder class that I had purchased (for the 4th time), and threw a tall pot today with almost 4 pounds of clay. I've destroyed the first three, but this one is not an embarrassment. Maybe for me, the fourth time's the charm. Images soon!  

Studio inspiration

For some reason, I wanted to go to a Fine Craft show in Brunswick this past weekend. Once there, I realized why. I have no contact with other people who are as compelled to Make Things as I am. It was a delight to talk to other such people. The covered vessel in the image above is prettily seated between a couple of my old pieces from the Botanically Correct series. This piece was made by an artist named Mark Wheeler, and it is a wonder. Made from maple, he turned it, then carved it A Lot, and then colored the work. I can't tell you exactly why I was so taken with this piece. Maybe it was the number of processes employed, as well as the aesthetics of it. . .and certainly the maker to maker conversation was much appreciated.

I haven't been doing much in the studio, though I am taking an online workshop on Throwing Large. Sort of like living large but different. My first attempt to follow Bill McGibben's techniques was an abject failure, but that's not surprising. Among other things, I knew going in that my clay was likely too wet for this endeavor. So I'll go back to the video, dry out some clay (no easy task to get it just right), and then try again. Failure breeds learning. Learning breeds less failure. Ha. Always the optimist. 

In the meantime, here are a couple of my latest pieces. I'm thinking a lot about metalsmithing and enameling these days. . .tempted to retreat to that which I know best. (!)

No doubt

This summer and early fall has gone by so quickly that I've been somewhat reluctant to admit that it truly is fall, and winter truly is coming. But there can be no doubt now. From the leaves under my feet to the view of our forest from any window in the house, leaves are coloring and falling, drought be damned. 

The bean plants are in the compost, as are the indigo plants, which I was loath to pull because they have been such a delightful curiosity. The maples range from fiery red to orange to yellow, and while many predicted less vibrant colors this year due to the drought, I'm not sure I saw it. The colors did seem to be timed differently, and now they're almost done.

I drained and stored two of  our three hoses yesterday, and John blew out the irrigation lines. The patio is sealed, and the outdoor furniture stowed safely in my studio. 

 

 

We're almost ready for the freezing weather, at least physically. Psychologically, I find I am not looking forward to winter and snow as much as I usually do. It might be Jasper's absence. I've been taking our old usual hikes, and when I'm alone I can almost see him with me. . . waiting at a fork in the trail to make sure I'm OK; his intelligent face making sure I'm still with him, and then heading up the trail with renewed energy. It is amazing to be loved by a dog, but I was especially privileged to have him in my life.

 

Late Harvest

 

One never knows, but this may be our last harvest. It will surely be the last of the basil, since 30F is predicted for tonight. Basil gets insulted by anything under 35. 

The beans are still beautiful and tasty, and I don't remember how well they'll tolerate a freeze. Not well, I suspect. And why did I harvest green tomatoes? I have made several green tomato things in the past (chutney, mock mincemeat), and they are fine but unnecessary. I also tend to forget I have them, and then initiate a forehead slap in April or so. I have enough of those without green tomato chutney.

I do love these first chilly days, though. Yesterday's rain eased a good bit of stress (plant and human), and the rituals of the fall give a sense of preparation. Even control. Re-stain the patio furniture, bring all of the furniture to it's winter home (in my studio), drain, clean and  bring in the fountains, and of course, bring the English Hares to the front steps to guard us there, rather than in the garden. All good. It is nice to feel like we have modest control over these things, while the world spins unpredictably.
 

Fall and getting back to the studio

It is an odd fall. It's so dry. . . the experts say that we need 12" of rain to get out of this "extreme drought", and that's not likely to happen before the ground freezes. Weather is so squirrely, though, (not a word the experts use) that it's harder than usual to predict. I am deeply concerned for our forests. Ok. I'm deeply concerned on any number of topics.

I have finally gotten back to the studio post Jasper. I'm not making anything new or exciting, just exercising the technical muscles. I was inspired by a dress that I made. . .a trip to a Scarborough fabric store inspired the dress. . .all of which was behavior to try to distract me/us from our grief. And distract it did. But then I needed 9 buttons. Nine! That's a good number of buttons, and corresponding button holes. So I made them out of porcelain. They're ok, but for some reason my Coyote Green Matt glaze is no longer matt. It's still a lovely color, but I don't get why it's no longer matt. Maybe it's the combination of glazes that's freaking it out? Ah the vagaries of glazes.

It's not a great image, but you get the idea. I really like using Nichrome shanks and not having holes in the buttons. 

I also made a couple of bowls, and really like the glaze on these. Did I actually say that out loud? I like a glaze? Maybe I should just do everything with these glazes from now on. 

 

 

I also made a slip-trailed mug, but while I have loved this combination of glazes in the past, I'm not so impressed with it on this mug. It's just ok.

Finally, I brought some plant material in from the garden. . .just for show, as a Gary Larsen character once said. The hydrangeas outdid themselves this year, and I always love adding some asparagus ferns and other sundry plant material from the yard. They will all be gone in a month, so best enjoy them while we can.

The potatoes are harvested and stored, now and the pumpkins are mostly harvested, and displayed on the porch with the impatiens planters. There is such a bittersweet quality to fall. I have always loved it, but it all seems to be going by so quickly. The reality of winter's approach gives pause as it didn't when I was younger. It's a metaphor for too many things to contemplate right now. It is sobering.

Friends visit and a trip to Quebec City

Umbrellas, cafes and a palace

We were lucky enough to host friends visiting from Boise this past week. After a few days in our home, we moved on to Quebec City to share some adventures. This image of a street where we settled for a lunch of wine, pizza, salad and amazing coffee featured umbrellas with a view of the Frontenac hotel. A palace, really. 

The leaves were close to full color, and unlike previous visits to Quebec, the plethora of public gardens still could be enjoyed with live plants. Some of them were still blooming, but the mixture of plant bloom, leaf colors and textures, and the sheer overwhelming abundance of these plants (with no visible weeds) was astonishing, even to a seasoned horticulturist like myself. Wow. That was a long sentence.

I tried to take some pictures of the gardens as a whole, but the camera just can't do justice to what the eye can see. So I'll settle for showing you an image of a hibiscus in bloom.

Hibiscus flower

In previous trips to QC, we had seen a coffee shop in the Plains of Abraham, a huge park in the center of the city. We wandered back on day one, and had most excellent coffee, croissants, and a table on the patio. At said table, we were entertained by a trio of penguins to the sounds of a rushing fountain. Amazing.

and the band played on. . .

It was a nice trip. . . a great interlude to all of the national nonsense, and a great opportunity to support the Canadians. 

Thanks especially to M and A, who made the long trip across the country to visit us and things Maine and Quebecois. 

So now it's back to the garden, the beautiful fall weather, and a substantial rainfall that is staving off the drought, however temporarily.