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The penultimate bisque firing for this production run shut off at 8 this morning. The final load of pots is taking advantage of the warm studio and very warm kiln lid to get everything dry enough to safely fire, always an issue in fall.
I've actually timed things rather well, this cycle. I was able to pace myself, only throw fifty-ish pounds of clay a day, even take Sundays off. Partly, this is because I've got less demand--no Clay Fest, Clayfolk to stock--and partly because I've more actual days--two extra Saturdays that I'm not at Market, whole weeks of no Fall Fest, Clay Fest. It's oddly relaxed, and my adrenal glands don't know what to make of it.
Take today: I've made everything on my throwing list, even throwing in a few extras--a dozen more tall mugs, a couple of teapots, a few cat food dishes, just to finish off the bag. But my brain is still fussing--You could throw plates! You only made a dozen! (Never mind that there's twenty or thirty on the shelves at Club Mud, already glazed). I'm just not used to this schedule.
There's also a certain amount of uncertainty involved. One of my galleries has committed to an order, but I haven't heard anything from the other. I think they're still only open three days a week, and I can't tell whether they're going to reimagine their Annual Artist's Event (which usually runs from mid-November through December) or just cancel it outright. Add the fact that Holiday Market is only five selling days, and I wind up with no clue what to make, what will sell.
Oh well, I guess I'll spend the day catching up on other projects. Repack the squeaky front bearing on my trike. Sew another face mask. Make a new paint brush.
Post to my blog.
I've not been good at words, lately; just lots of pictures, which are going to my Instagram. Here's a visual review of the last week or two.
I was down to five boxes of clay at the beginning of the week; checking my list of things-yet-to-throw, I estimated it'd be just enough to get me to the end. So of course, I placed an order with my supplier. Now I have a ton plus two boxes (2100 lbs.) cluttering up the studio. In my defense, the last time I ordered clay--in, oh, February--it took them two weeks to deliver, so I was understandably a little concerned.
I've actually timed things rather well, this cycle. I was able to pace myself, only throw fifty-ish pounds of clay a day, even take Sundays off. Partly, this is because I've got less demand--no Clay Fest, Clayfolk to stock--and partly because I've more actual days--two extra Saturdays that I'm not at Market, whole weeks of no Fall Fest, Clay Fest. It's oddly relaxed, and my adrenal glands don't know what to make of it.
Take today: I've made everything on my throwing list, even throwing in a few extras--a dozen more tall mugs, a couple of teapots, a few cat food dishes, just to finish off the bag. But my brain is still fussing--You could throw plates! You only made a dozen! (Never mind that there's twenty or thirty on the shelves at Club Mud, already glazed). I'm just not used to this schedule.
There's also a certain amount of uncertainty involved. One of my galleries has committed to an order, but I haven't heard anything from the other. I think they're still only open three days a week, and I can't tell whether they're going to reimagine their Annual Artist's Event (which usually runs from mid-November through December) or just cancel it outright. Add the fact that Holiday Market is only five selling days, and I wind up with no clue what to make, what will sell.
Oh well, I guess I'll spend the day catching up on other projects. Repack the squeaky front bearing on my trike. Sew another face mask. Make a new paint brush.
Post to my blog.
I've not been good at words, lately; just lots of pictures, which are going to my Instagram. Here's a visual review of the last week or two.
I was down to five boxes of clay at the beginning of the week; checking my list of things-yet-to-throw, I estimated it'd be just enough to get me to the end. So of course, I placed an order with my supplier. Now I have a ton plus two boxes (2100 lbs.) cluttering up the studio. In my defense, the last time I ordered clay--in, oh, February--it took them two weeks to deliver, so I was understandably a little concerned.
Tall mugs continue to lead the sales at Saturday Market, to the point where I worry that the forty I've already made won't be enough. So here's another dozen, along with twelve of the oddly less-popular painted mugs.
My thesis advisor in grad school was a potter-turned-sculptor, who specialized in found object constructions. They were always made of multiple items, arranged in arrays. You give me one of anything, I'm not interested, he said. But a whole bunch, all alike? I love that s--t! I think of him, sometimes, looking at ware boards or loading kilns.
Somethings I make don't sell all that well during the year, but sometimes do at Christmas. I keep making them in part because I think the design is so cool--gravy boats, for example. I love the form, love making them. They're big enough to hold a serious amount of gravy, can be used to pour or ladle. And they just look good. It's coming up on the Turkey-and-Gravy season, so maybe I can send some of these home.
My thesis advisor in grad school was a potter-turned-sculptor, who specialized in found object constructions. They were always made of multiple items, arranged in arrays. You give me one of anything, I'm not interested, he said. But a whole bunch, all alike? I love that s--t! I think of him, sometimes, looking at ware boards or loading kilns.
Somethings I make don't sell all that well during the year, but sometimes do at Christmas. I keep making them in part because I think the design is so cool--gravy boats, for example. I love the form, love making them. They're big enough to hold a serious amount of gravy, can be used to pour or ladle. And they just look good. It's coming up on the Turkey-and-Gravy season, so maybe I can send some of these home.