Clay Play Date
This blog is “One with Clay, Image and Text,” and my Hotmail address is onewithclay, and my username is onewithclay. PS. I like clay. You might, too, if you get your hands on some!
This blog is “One with Clay, Image and Text,” and my Hotmail address is onewithclay, and my username is onewithclay. PS. I like clay. You might, too, if you get your hands on some!
Dig it. I need to get back into drawing.
Prove it, Friend!
Good one.
The thing is I’m wondering for what purpose. I write, but you don’t visit my blog.
If a tree falls in the woods and there is no one ther to hear it, does a squirrel still get squished?
Tsk tsk–I’ve not only visited your blog, I’ve commented…and, alas for the squirrel, yes. Perception does alter reality, but lack of perception usually doesn’t negate reality.
I know you did, Gary. But that was ten days ago, on my first posting — which by the way — I rewrote, persuant to the thesis of the post whereupon I used your caption titled, “Expectation, Meet Reality.”
Heh-heh.
Donald, I was tempted to answer with my limerick entry of three years ago, with the punchline “But what have you done for me lately?”, but instead I visited the fine Vincent van Gogh post, commented on it, and Shared your “Expectation, Meet Reality” post with my Facebook Friends. So THAT’S What I’ve Done For You Lately.
Oh, by the way, I used your caption for a post I wrote.
http://donaldmillersnotebook.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/expectation-meet-reality/
Thixotropic. A common property of clays and oil paint. You press, it resists, resists and then suddenly lets go. Is there such a thing as tactile memory? There must be; why else can I remember Suzanne Tremblay, who gave us a short pottery class more than thirty years ago? Of course, memory needs reinforcement, I remember going to her shop ‘Le pot de Terre’ in the early seventies, on my way to the public library. Finding out that my wife’s parents had a set of her tableware for everyday use, ans seeing her name under a plate. Finally, reading of her early death in the local newspaper. I remember I thought she was lovely, I can’t remember her face. But I remember the feeling of the clay….
In fact, potters claim that clay formed on the the potter’s wheel does “remember” what shape it took, and if it gets jostled a bit out of round, it self-corrects. And, yes, the feeling of clay stays with us all our lives…