I have gone through many phases in my arts and crafting history. One of the most memorable was when I wanted to be a potter. That was more than thirty years ago, when I began taking night school courses from the community college.
What made this ideal, and would never happen in today’s financial climate, was that the school maintained an open studio. There were large work tables, pottery wheels, and an abundance of clay. Any completed items could be left on a shelf and the instructor would fire them in the kiln, ready for glazing, and then to be fired again.
As long as there was no class in progress, the studio was open, day and evening. I spent a lot of time there, as I was temporarily off work.
I never did get the hang of the wheel. It was an impossible position to maintain, given that I was 8 ½ months pregnant, that baby bump made leaning over difficult, hard for me to rest my elbows on my knees. So I did hand pieces and found I liked that better than the wheel.
My dream was to have my own studio. I had a simple wheel of my own, and had dibs on a room in one of the sheds for my kiln. Things never worked out the way I planned.
We were living on a small farm at the time, with an old house that needed some renovation, so my studio was put on hold.
But that was okay, because I had this other creative project to keep me occupied, my beautiful baby girl born that July. So, without saying exactly how old she is, this little remembrance comes the week of her birthday, when all those memories come flooding back.
Happy Birthday, Kiddo, it’s been a fantastic journey.