The exhaustation of a well-spent day of inspirated work is, like, totally the greatest thing and stuff. I and Ariel have been working almost non-stop....one might even say, "obsessively" on getting a mole out of the back yard.
Usually such a project is light work and stuff. I or Ariel will cock a ear toward the ground. Then we will get ourselves totally and completely and positively and ....what's another synonym for "totally"? ...anyways, we get real still-like and wait for a scritchy dirt sound that only I or Ariel could hear. Or we detect just the ever-so-slightest movement in the ground. Then, suddenly -- and without warning -- we pounce. I should say, we POUNCE! I should say it that way because it more aptly depicts the aggressive use of force, speed, power, and stuff of which I and Ariel, acting as a two-dog mole-wrecking crew can reek on the unsuspecting blind dirt-dweller's world.
Carnage. That's what I and Ariel cause around the mole world.
I imagine that at the offices of the "Mole Times And Mole World Report" all the mole reporters and mole writers and mole pundits know I and Ariel by our names.........and those names bring dread and fear.
But I and Ariel are going through a little dry spell lately. Speedy, sly, crafty though we may be in employing our mole killing craft, it seems that the latest mole must be, like, Supermole or something. Yeah, Supermole. That's it. And I and Ariel have not yet found the mole kryponite necessary to weaken the varmit.
So far the devastation I and Ariel have been able to rain down on this world has been, like, totally limited to John Bauman and Dar Bauman's back yard. Specifically, one of the flower beds they tend in their back yard.
We haven't yet broken the news to John Bauman and Dar Bauman. But I'm sure they'll be understanding.
A very nice Holiday treat for me -- Christmas Eve I opened my mailbox to find the latest issue of Ceramics Monthly Magazine and found two pages of Bauman Stoneware -- inside. The magazine recently started what will be a regular feature called "Studio Visits". I was excited about the project and even more excited that they chose to feature my studio early on.
Years ago my mom showed me a neat trick. She put a piece of paper on the table in front of me and then put a pencil in each of my hands. Then she told me to close my eyes and write my name with both hands at the same time. When I finished and opened my eyes to look, the two signatures were remarkably similar, given that I don't write with my left hand. I'd say that the left hand signature was darn near the same as the right hand signature....BUT....
....and here's the cool thing, so I hope you have your seatbelt securely fastened on your imagination...
....the left hand signature was backwards. Yup. A mirror image of the right hand signature. Not upside down -- just backwards.
I don't think I could write upside down. At least not very fast.
I take that back. If I was hanging upside down I could still write. Pretty fast too. I'd have to. With all the blood rushing to my head I wouldn't want to take too long to write. I'd probably write something like, "Can I stop hanging here like this? It's terribly uncomfortable."
I'm not so right handed that I can't do anything with my left hand. Oh, I'm not like my wife, Dar, who writes right-handed, but throws lefty. But I used to be able to shoot a basketball pretty well left-handed.
I seem to be able to wave hello with either hand. Some people say I look more sincere when I wave with my right hand. I've tried to see if there's anything to what they say, but the only way I can check is with a mirror -- and when I do that, I look like I'm waving left-handed. I must say though, I do look sincere.
I've just completed perhaps the biggest upload of pots to my Etsysite I've ever done in one day. It's been a long day, and I'm a little too tired to be creative. But I said it all in the descriptions, so come on over to the site and see...
I was laughing right out loud. And I was doing so before the internet ever even invented LOL-ing. I was paging through the immensely huge "The Potter's Dictionary of Materials and Techniques" by Frank Hamer. I came upon a listing for "Clobbering". It's a term for over-embellishing pottery in a (vain) attempt to add value to it.
I love it.
Well, here's my TOTALLY UN-clobbered mug. It is nothing but simplicity, shape, glow, and function. Inspired in form by my love for the paintings of Bruegel the Elder -- paintings of taverns, dances, weddings, and gatherings -- all with contemporary pottery candidly captured throughout the paintings. And it was all pottery that was so compelling in form, I wanted to reach into the paintings and pull them out and hold them.
This mug is hand-thrown with high-fired porcelain. Additionally, it is glazed in my Millring Red glaze and sprayed with a light glow of golden rutile -- enhancing the more than ample globe shape that holds a generous 14 ounces of hot or cold liquid.
You're asking yourself, "If I touch my tongue to that icy blue platter, will it stick?".
I double-dog dare you to try.
This hand-thrown 14 inch platter is glazed with a wonderful discovery I made this past summer -- a celadon glaze with an almost unbelievable degree of trasparency that allows the pooling of its deepest-colored elements into every nook and cranny, while allowing its raised areas a nearly perfect white appearance. Yes, it pulls away from raised bumps a bit, leaving a bare patch here and there. But fortunately they fall right into that winter white charming look.
Despite that icy appearance (and don't fear -- it may look that cold, but it's no frozen pump handle) the platter is microwavable and dishwasher safe. Obviously, food safe as well.
The small bowl that comes with this platter -- that completes it to make it a chip and dip, or a cheese ball platter, or a veggie dip platter, or a...
...you get the idea...
Anyway, that small bowl (volume just shy of 16 oz) is lined with my incredibly deep cobalt blue glaze. That extreme contrast makes the icy celadon even icier-looking, while also giving the bowl the illusion of impossible depth.