Thursday, February 23, 2012

My Burgeoning Pot Habit

Perhaps my being a middle child explains my love of birthdays. In my memory, that was always the one day each year I could count on to get the most attention, a day I did not have to share with my eight siblings the way I had to share pants, bathroom, meat cakes, etc. I have carried my love of birthdays well into adulthood, and it's no secret that come another January, I use the anniversary of my arrival as an excuse to strong arm my friends and family into doing my bidding. We don't just stop with the actual birthday, either. I like to claim the whole month as my own. Which is how, weeks after the fact, I gave myself yet another birthday celebration.

This time around the party came in the form of a ceramics class with Steve Dubov down at Atelier 3D, in the Tillery Studios. My skills as a visual artist are... how to put it delicately.. totally shitty. But that doesn't stop me from trying. I love tactile thrills and getting dirty. In the old days, that got me in all sorts of trouble and yielded some powerful life lessons (Read: before getting it on in public, take my advice and make sure that grass you're about to roll in isn't poison ivy because you WILL wind up in the hospital, trust me, and the medical professionals WILL excuse themselves, go grab their colleagues and bring them in for a look, all in the name of having a good laugh at the water cooler).

Anyway, now that I'm coming up on 50 fairly quickly here, rolling around in the grass is not how I want to get my Touch Thrills. Instead, I prefer yarn, bread dough, Rebound's belly, that sort of thing. I guessed and (spoiler alert) was totally right that playing with clay was going to be super fun. Admittedly I was a little stumped at first-- so much potential in our little red slabs of clay (GUMBY!!). But then I told myself to shut up and quit with the First World Problem of Waaa, I don't know what to make!!! and then, perhaps as a tribute to the wisdom I've finally earned, I actually listened to myself and shut up and played. It rocked.

Along for this ride were my young, hot domestic partner, Warren, my amazing Man-Child HenryMowgli, and his lady friend K. They were all especially looking forward to reenacting scenes from the movie Ghost and, in fact, we did a great photo shoot of this reenactment, but a few of the six of you might recall that recently my iPhone disappeared about 140 pictures. Sadly, the Ghost shoot was among the lost. Still, some photos remain.

I'm highly recommending you take one of Steve's classes. Absolute beginners are welcome. Check out the Atelier 3D website for more details. And check out the pictures that did survive:

Yes, I do know how hot I look when I dress like this and hunch over. No, you may not date me.

My pot: beginning stages.

Because you're never too old to stick stuff up your nose and say, "Look!  A booger!"

HenryMowgli, boy genius.

This is what happens when old people expose themselves to pot(s) in the morning.

An AFTER picture of my yarn bowl and knitting need vessel.

A close up of my yarn bowl. Isn't it COOL?!

Because what would my life be without puns?
Warren's balls pre-kiln.

We had a LOT of pot action, as you can see. 

Serious artist.

Warren's pot pre-kiln. I haven't seen it finished yet, but I hear the glaze looks the color of baby poop.

Warren's balls post-glaze. Yes, they are black and spotted. No, I won't say it, I'll let you have all the fun.

Steve, quick hitting on my man!

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