Slightly Off Center

Every year, for romantic holidays--Valentine's, our anniversary--Denise and I celebrate by doing an art project. This year, since she's been taking a fabric book class at Maude Kerns Art Center, I'd dug out all my remaining fabric scraps, what didn't get used in my pandemic quilt project (still unfinished, I'm afraid). Which gave me an idea.

I've been following an artist named Ann Smith on Instagram almost since I started my account there, I think she was one of the first suggested posts that popped up in my feed. She does fabric art as persimmonstudioart, hand-stitched patchwork pictures of birds. She gets some amazing effects with layering different patterns of fabric, even suggesting iridescence on grackles and starlings. It's gorgeous work.

So we decided to do a bit of birding ourselves. I pre-sewed background panels on my machine, six by nine inches, found and printed some reference photos--Denise picked a robin, I, a goldfinch. Then we chose and ironed our fabric scraps, transferred patterns for different color sections to scrap paper with carbon paper. (I'm amazed at the stuff Denise has stashed away; there are advantages to being in a borderline hoarding relationship.)

Cut out pieces, aligned them on the reference photo. Many of them were too small to pin, so we scotch-taped them together to transfer to the backgrounds, roughly stitched them down with some of the many different colors of thread Denise has for bookbinding.



I think they turned out pretty well.

Stopped at the St. Vinnie's off River Road with Denise, looking for fabric for her bookbinding class. Since JoAnn went belly-up, there's no good fabric store nearby (that isn't Hobby Lobby. feh.), but you can occasionally find bits and scraps in the thrift stores. While she was going through the bins of fat quarters, I perused the end caps.

And found a friend.

This is a bulb forcer, for getting narcissus bulbs to bloom in winter. I have one much like it in my cupboard at home. It's by my late friend, Kathy Lee.

One of the many orders I had for last week's firing was a set of dessert plates featuring bee eaters--very brightly colored tropical birds from all over Africa and Asia. There are more than thirty species, so I had a wide range of possibilities to choose from. Here are the ones I picked.

It's been a while since I've posted. I've been busy in the studio, of course, throwing as much as a hundred pounds of clay a day. But there's been a bunch more.

My mother has been in the hospital, twice, in the last week and a half. First because her heart wasn't working properly--a pulse rate of 30 bpm is not optimal. They took her to the doctor in Neillsville, who immediately sent her on to Marshfield; they put in a pacemaker the same day. I called her a day or two after she returned home; she had a bad cough and seemed not to be thinking too clearly: she was trying to write a check for the electric bill and couldn't figure out how to do it. Next day she was back in the hospital, this time with Influenza A and pneumonia. She's home today, still with a cough, but otherwise much improved.

Meanwhile, Denise and I have been trying to decide what to do with her late mother's house in Wisconsin. We'd been renting it to my brother for the last ten years, but he announced in mid-December that they were moving to Detroit to be closer to his wife's extended family. Originally planned to stay until spring, but a housing situation opened up and they were moving out at the end of the year.

Yikes.

I transferred the utilities into our name, he kept the wifi running because the thermostat needed the connection. Met with our financial advisor to discuss what to do if we sold the house, even talked to a realtor about reinvesting the proceeds locally so we don't get slammed with taxes. Hadn't gotten any predatory postcards from real estate speculators in a while, but suddenly got four in the course of a week, an email a week later. Tucked them into a file folder in case we needed them.

While we were biting out own tails, trying to decide what to do, my nephew--brother's son--threw another complication into the mix. He and his wife would like us to keep the house in the family, and they'd manage it for us, either for an equity stake, or as a side business income stream, whichever we'd prefer. They're in St. Paul, which is a bit distant, but they think they can make it work. They're currently doing research. I like this idea. I don't want to unload the place on a house flipper, or someone who'd turn it into short-term rentals. It'd be a lovely family dwelling, and would be much happier as such.

I've been trying to repair my kiln vent since December, but it I keep needing just one more piece. First it was the fan assembly, $495 plus shipping. Then I had to order the vent attachment, as the old one was rusted solid; only $30 this time. This morning, I got the bugger mounted on the wall again, only to discover that the ducting had corroded through. $35 from Skutt, probably another month or two before they manage to ship it to me. I'm half tempted to drive up to Portland and pick it up in person.

Also meanwhile, I've have oral surgery--the same day mom got her pacemaker--new crown and implant post that will get a tooth attached next month.

And I've been watching with horror as things go to shit in Minneapolis/St. Paul. I've got family and friends there, including niece and nephew who have taken to carrying their passports with them everywhere, since they're a little browner than the fascists prefer.

I haven't known how to express any of this without gibbering, so I've been head down over the potter's wheel, trying to restore some order to my universe, even if it's just by making bowls.

We'd made plans for a short getaway in the week between Christmas and New Years, just up to Portland to visit the zoo and art museum, but our cat sitter didn't return our texts and then the weather got bad and so we stayed home instead. Which was nice, because I couldn't do much in the studio, having only 25 lbs. of clay left, so I read a bit and napped a bit and got all the family Christmas presents packed and shipped by New Year's Eve. So that was nice.

Then I got the Christmas letter to my nephew returned to sender and realized that they'd moved and I had to figure out how to get their Christmas present to the new address which I didn't have yet and that involved a long stay on hold with UPS, who directed me back to Shippo, who then determined that I couldn't redirect the package because of the plan I'd bought for shipping, but I could have it returned to sender, no charge. So we caught it in Minneapolis and it's coming back here tomorrow.

My ton of clay finally got delivered last Tuesday, in the midst of a rain and sleet-storm, so that was fun. And the replacement part for my kiln vent arrived the same day, though one piece--the intake manifold--was rusted solid onto the old unit, so I had to spend an hour on hold with Skutt trying to get the part number for a replacement, while I was moving clay into the studio. I eventually had to give up--they were closing at 5--left a message, then an email, and finally got the number yesterday, ordered this morning. Meanwhile, the tools and parts are cluttering up the top of the kiln.

So throwing 75-100 lbs. of pots a day has been, by comparison, positively relaxing.

We did our end of the year inventory this morning, which basically involves bundling Denise up in warm clothing with a clipboard and pencil, marking things down on the tally while I open every box and recite items and patterns. This will be necessary at tax time; in the meantime, it's a good snapshot of what I need to make to get ready for the new year.

Right now, I have exactly one dinner pasta bowl left. Three dessert plates. Five pie plates, six tall mugs. I have no covered casseroles, only one baking dish, a small square in woodpecker pattern. No small covered crocks, no tool crocks, no yarn bowls. One honey jar, one canister, one each of the three sizes of cookie jar. I'm entirely sold out of teapots, have been since Thanksgiving weekend. Down to one gravy boat, one covered pitcher, two creamers. I'm out of frog banks, though all the others are still good. Four incense dragons left. Three cat food dishes.

I still have at least one of every pattern of soup bowl, surprisingly, ditto todder bowls. Meanwhile, six patterns of stew mug are out of stock, and eight of painted mugs.

I would be frantically throwing pots right now, except I'm also down to less than one bag of clay until my ton order gets delivered, sometime next week. So in the meantime, I'm taking an enforced holiday, while figuring out where to start my next making cycle.

Found in my email inbox this morning:

Hello Frank,
We met you at the holiday market at the fairgrounds. We got to talking food and baking. We went to your website and tried your potica recipe. Results: absolutely delicious!! The time and energy was totally worth it. Thank you. [redacted]

Yay!

ETA: They sent me a picture!

Not bad for a first try.

Sometime around last May, I got an email from a potter I knew slightly, up in Portland. He'd looked for me at Ceramic Showcase, wanted to buy some plates, didn't see me. I explained that I haven't done that show since 2019, but would be happy to make some plates for him. We agreed on four patterns, and they went on the list.

Got them done in my June firing, asked if he wanted me to ship them. Oh no, he and wife drove down to California all the time, he could pick them up in Eugene.

Then commenced a series of mishaps and miscues. Phoned about a pickup on our landline when I was away at a show in Roseburg. Email received when I was away in Anacortes. Finally arranged a rendezvous in October, only to have him no-show.

Coming down to mid-December, I finally tracked down his phone number in the Oregon Potters Association directory. I really need to get these plates out of my studio, I said, Can I just ship them to you? So I got his address, sent them off UPS the next morning, called him to get a card number for payment. Case closed.

A week-and-a-half later, I get an email from him, asking if UPS had any indication of when they'd arrive? Only they'd been having a problem with porch bandits in his neighborhood, and he wanted to make sure he got the box.

Oh dear.

Went online to UPS with the tracking number to find they'd been delivered a week previously, complete with photo documentation. Which I copied and sent him. So now what? I shipped them, they were delivered, so even if I had paid extra for insurance--it doesn't come automatically with my discount shipping service--they wouldn't have paid out. I'm pretty sure I told him to look for them in two-three days, but it was on the phone, not email, so I couldn't check. Should I offer to make another set?

Two days ago, I get another email. Found them. One of the girls brought the box in and put it in a closet.

Whew!

A mom and eight or nine-year-old daughter stopped in my booth Sunday, asking if I had a yarn bowl for grandma? I had exactly one, in the bottom box of the stack. I don't usually put them out until I've run out of something else--there isn't room--but I do like to have them. As I'm digging it out, I ask, Can you guess what animal is on it? Daughter has no guess, but Mom says Cat! With a ta-daa! I show that it is indeed a cat, tuxedo kitty leaping at the yarn hole. They're both delighted, but Dad has the card, so Mom has to track him down. Does daughter want to come with? No, she'll stay in the booth, holding the bowl.

So we talk a bit. Her name is Clara, and she makes art too. Drawings, mostly, though she'd recently started playing with watercolors, so I show her our watercolor cards. Her Grandma is an artist too, and gets her whatever art supplies she wants to try next; they're doing watercolors together. And this past summer, she and a friend set up an art sale table on their front lawn, and made $20! Which they split evenly. I tell her I'd love to see her art someday; she says maybe she'll get a booth here next year! In the meantime, I suggested she take a few pictures and email them to me, to which she agrees.

If she follows through, I'll definitely share them here.

I love the fact that, in the darkest days of the year, camellia bushes say, F**k this. We're gonna bloom!

Love you guys.