Making the Most of the Rain

When the lonely potter gets up in the morning, his first thoughts are usually about what he "needs" to do outside. Trying to keep an acreage, even a small one, in decent shape takes a lot of work. Whether it's weeding, fencing, mowing, painting, planting, pruning, sawing, chopping or fixing, there are not many idle hours during the summer. He has  not, yet, found that happy place in his psyche that allows him to balance the work that is calling him outside, with the pleasure that is waiting in the studio. A rainy day, then. can be a gift - if he can force himself to not worry about what is not going to get done, and can focus on what he can do.

We haven't had many rainy days, but there was one a few days ago when the lonely potter decided to spend the day in the studio making raku glazes. There was a time when he had a few good glaze recipes, and he knew how to apply them for the effects he wanted. Somehow, somewhere, those glazes have been lost, or mixed up with other glazes, so he is having to start from scratch.

It wasn't easy to start in the morning with reading glaze recipes and to end the day with a half dozen passable raku glazes to experiment with, but he stuck it out, and actually ended the day feeling like he had accomplished something.

If glazes have been made, can a firing be far behind?

Serious Fun

One thing you need to know about the lonely potter is that he is a glass-half-empty kind of person. In fact, not only is the glass half empty, he is sure the government siphoned off  the top half, and what ever is left is unfit to drink because of someone's incompetence. The other thing you should know is that we need rain. Badly. This creates a dilemma for the lonely potter - whether to be more frustrated by the lack of rain which is holding back the growth of grass and other good things, or by the occasional showery day, which will inevitably interfere with something he had planned to do that day. On those days when this frustration combines with a painful arthritis flare-up, it is very hard to make the lonely potter smile.

So it was with great trepidation that I woke the lonely potter yesterday, pointing out that it really was mid-morning and the darkness was a result of overcast skies, not because  the sun was not out yet. To my relief, he took it well, merely sighing and painfully flexing his swollen fingers before getting out of bed. Perhaps it was the anticipation of waffles, whipped cream and fresh strawberries that put him in a good mood, or maybe he had just made up his mind to do something productive, no matter what the weather did. It was, in fact, a very productive day, but not in the pottery studio.

Aside from pottery, the other great love of the lonely potter's life is the horse. This beautiful, intelligent, sensitive animal remains the last vestige of his boyhood dreams of the wild west, where a man's best friend was his horse. When we moved to this acreage he had four horses, but tragic and mysterious circumstances have led to the deaths of two, leaving a very despondent lonely potter and two bewildered and tightly herd bound horses. For quite a while it has been easy to find excuses to not spend time with the horses. By the time they were fed, watered and  groomed his energy to do anything else was spent. Lately though, whether as a reaction to Spring or a result of recently meeting someone who loves horses as much as he does, the lonely potter has begun to pay more attention to "his girls".   Daily training sessions, no matter the weather, are starting to show results, both for the horses and for the lonely potter. There have even been days, when the training has gone well, that the shoulders are a little straighter, the head lifted a little higher, and there seems to be a smile. Could it be that the lonely potter is having fun?  Judge for yourself.

There you have it. Cloudy skies, rubber boots, and, it appears, a happy lonely potter and his horse.

 If this keeps up, can more activity in the pottery studio be far behind?

The Sawmill and the Pottery

It was a fine spring day. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the trees were showing their colors. From the storage shed came sounds of brick clinking on brick, and there, moving with purpose and the new energy of spring, was the lonely potter, building... something.

Firebricks were stacked about three feet high on each side of a square. This was obviously something to do with pottery, but it was different from the raku kilns I had seen him make. There was no hole at the bottom to insert a propane torch.

Mystified, I asked what he was building. He looked over at me, and without pausing in his work,  "Sawdust kiln", he said shortly, as if anyone with eyes could figure that out.

"Ahh" I thought, "So that's a sawdust kiln.

Not far away from where he was working there is a large, and growing, pile of sawdust. There are only so many things one can do with sawdust. Mulching the garden with it could use it up, but the Fire-smart experts  suggest that this mulch could become a hazard if a forest fire ever came our way. One could press it into moulds (like egg cartons) with a little paraffin wax, and have handy, dandy fire starters for winter. But really, how much of these things could we store before they too became a fire hazard?

So There it sits, a big yellow pile, waiting to be burned to make beautiful pots.

Behind the sawdust pile is the saw that created the sawdust. It was used to  saw all of the lumber that was used to build the pottery studio and the shed under which the sawdust kiln now sits.  So, if there was no sawmill, there would be no studio, no kiln, and no pottery.  There are still many trees to be cut into lumber, which will be used for fences, shelves, more buildings, and what ever else we may need as time goes on. This means, of course, that the sawdust pile will continue to grow, which means, I hope, that more pottery will be fired in the sawdust kiln.

I don't know anything about firing pottery, but I do know that the lonely potter has been wanting to try this method of firing for many years. Now, finally, all the elements needed to make this happen have come together, and there is a spark of excitement in the pottery studio. That's not to say that other things won't get in the way of the magic - things like sawing lumber and walking dogs - but it feels like a corner has been turned. Someday these pages will be filled, not with stories about the struggle to make  pottery, but with pictures of the pottery itself. Then I will know that the lonely potter has found his way again.

Lonely Potter to the Rescue

First, some good news for those of you who are annoyed by spelling mistakes. The spell check feature has finally decided to become visible on the edit bar of my blog, so I can  catch those pesky spelling errors. I hope there have not been too many. Errors, it seems, can have unexpected consequences, like getting stranded in a blizzard.

A few weeks ago, the lonely potter decided it was time to clear up some unfinished business. This involved driving to Winnipeg to pick up a horse trailer and bring it home, a round trip of over 5000 kilometres. He decided to have the oil changed in the truck, to have extra peace of mind for the trip. We also monitored the road conditions to make sure he would not be driving into a spring blizzard on the prairies.

By Easter Sunday, the truck was shipshape, the weather forecasts were for sunny skies all the way to Winnipeg, and the lonely potter drove off. Two hours later, he was back home. He had stopped to fill-up at the next town and discovered a serious oil leak - one that had not been there before the oil change. Since it was Easter Sunday, there were no garages open, so the lonely potter drove home and spent the rest of the day under the truck, trying to find the problem.The next day he went back at the shop where the oil had been changed. They checked it out,  and sure enough, the oil filter was causing the problem. We were more than a little annoyed, since we had never encountered a faulty oil filter before, but they fixed the problem quickly and the lonely potter was ready to hit the road by noon. Unfortunately, the window of clear weather we had been watching had begun to close, but we were committed, so we crossed our fingers, and off he went.

An hour after the truck pulled away, our phone rang. Wondering "What now?, I answered. The call was from Edmonton. It was the owner of one of one of our pups, a result of our single attempt to breed and sell Belgian Shepherd dogs 11 years ago. She said, "It's me. Chloe and Max are in trouble. Can you guys get them?"

Chloe and Max were litter mates of Boomer, the caller's dog, and were the off-spring of our beloved Belgian bitch Panda. Panda's death two years ago had left a hole in our lives that only Belgian owners can really understand. They are the most exhausting, exasperating, endearing and lovable dogs I have ever met.   Chloe and Max had gone to an excellent home  and had had a great life for the past 11 years. Sadly, catastrophic health problems had made it impossible for the owner to look after them anymore. Not knowing what else to do, he had taken them to the vet to be euthanized. The vet, however, who had looked after Chloe and Max all their lives, refused to kill them. Instead, she took them to a rescue shelter and began to look for a new home for them. The Canadian Belgian Sheepdog Association had posted the story in their newsletter, and shortly after that, we "got the call". I told our caller, who had 4 dogs already and could not take two more, that we would do what we could.  When the lonely potter made his check-in call that evening, I told him the story, and despite some serious misgivings, we both knew we had to try to do something to help Chloe and Max.

By the time he had concluded his business in Winnipeg, the lonely potter had decided he would go see the dogs. They were near North Battleford, so he could make a short detour on his way home and not add too much time to the trip. On Thursday evening he and the new horse trailer rolled into North Battleford, just ahead of a storm front that had chased him all the way from Manitoba. He pulled off the road for a sleep, planning to find the rescue farm in the morning and be on his way again by noon on Friday. What he didn't know was that the storm from the east was about to meet another storm from the west, right where he was parked. On Friday morning, he contacted the rescue farm owner, and she gave him directions to the farm. By that time there was a full blizzard all across Alberta and Saskatchewan, with zero visibility, resulting in several car accidents. He came close to disaster a few times, but he found the farm, and there he stayed.

By Friday evening I was getting anxious. I had followed the road reports and knew that the weather was terrible. I called the rescue farm and was relieved to hear that the lonely potter was there and planning to stay until the storm was over. After he told me about the trip I asked what he thought about the dogs. "Well, they're coming home with me." was the answer. Of course. Was there ever any doubt?

The only unknown was when they would be able to leave. The storm was still raging, so strong at times that they could not see the buildings in the yard.  He would not be able to leave for two days. Meanwhile the lonely potter made friends with all the dogs at the rescue farm, including Doberman Pincher's and Pit bulls, two breeds he has never liked.  This visit to the dog rescue farm was turning from a slightly annoying duty to two days of forced relaxation and re-education, as well as being a very fortunate haven from the blizzard. By Sunday the storm had ended, although the roads were still unpredictable. Running out of time on the temporary insurance on the horse trailer, the lonely potter, Chloe and Max hit the road.

Seven days and twelve hours after leaving home, the lonely potter was back, along with two dogs, a horse trailer, assorted groceries and dirty laundry.  We braced for the first meeting between the two resident dogs and the two new additions. Sparky is the lonely potter's dog, an Australian Shepherd, and the lonely potter is Sparky's human. Sparky does not like to share. Buffy is my dog, an elderly Border Collie mix. Buffy dislikes change of any kind, and she assumes the role of dowager in the house - no dog would dream of attempting to challenge her position. Fortunately, the two Belgians, although bigger than the resident dogs, tried to either avoid conflict  or to quickly back off if a conflict situation arose. There were a few disagreements between Sparky and Max, but Chloe quickly began to try to charm both Buffy and Sparky, and has so far avoided a turf war. Buffy, for the most part, remains aloof, having resorted to stiff legged, bare toothed growling a few times, but mostly pretending that the new dogs simply do not exist.

It is almost a month since the rescue mission, and it looks like everyone has settled into their new roles. Our daily dog walks have changed from off leash romps to on leash training sessions; the Belgians have survived two bouts of  bacterial infections (new food? new water? new dirt?); Sparky seems to be starting to relax; early edicts that the Belgians shall sleep in the garage have been relaxed; nobody needed to be put on Ativan; and Buffy is still the ruler of the house. We, humans and dogs, are all getting older, and have various health issues that go along with that , but it looks like we will all be too busy with each other to worry about that for a while. Unfortunately, it probably also means that there won't be much pottery produced , but what the heck, it's not every day  the lonely potter gets to play hero to a pair of Belgians. For now, an adoring look from Chloe is all it takes to make it all worthwhile. 

The Well Dressed Potter

When considering what to wear to the studio, comfort and function are the only real guidelines for the lonely potter. This is especially important for him, as he tends to forget about time when his is creating, often for hours on end,  and usually pays a painful price the next day.

 The first thing we bought for the lonely potter was a comfortable pair of shoes. The studio floor is heated, but it is concrete, and he needed something that would protect his feet, ankles, and knees from that unforgiving surface. The shoes were good, but not great, so the next thing was a set of new fangled inserts for the shoes, that would, they said, correct his incorrect gate and posture. Walking, despite what you may think, is not as easy as it looks. Standing is even more problematic. Despite the fancy shoes and inserts,  a long day in the studio can still produce painful results, but it does help, so it is worth the expense and the effort.  As you can see, these are well used. I still don't have a deal with the manufacturers of these items, so I won't give the names here. If you want to know what these products are, drop me a line.

The next thing was an apron. Playing with mud is a messy business, and washing clothes every night goes against the economically and environmentally minded lonely potter's values. So, with size and design provided by the lonely potter, two aprons were produced. They're not perfect (nothing ever is) but  good enough to get covered in clay and glaze and protect his other clothes from permanent damage.

The final essential item is the face mask, used when the lonely potter is mixing glazes. I don't have a picture of his mask, but let me assure you  it was not inexpensive, and it took some serious shopping to find the right one. The mask has to fit right and it has to be able to filter out very fine particulate. Even "safe"glazes are made of many minerals and chemicals that you just don't want to breath in, at least in the powder form. Once they are mixed with water they are easier to handle, but then if the glaze is sprayed on, it's time to use a mask again! If you want to know which mask the lonely potter uses, just ask.

No matter what goes on underneath, a sturdy apron is a must for the lonely potter. Who knows, if it gets really hot this summer, that may be all he wears.  Along with his shoes and mask, of course
(Note to potters who do not have a wife to sew their apron - I could be convinced to sew one like the lonely potter's for you - but it'll cost about $40.00!  Love is not cheap.)

Now for Something Completely Different

What does an artist do when he needs inspiration? Travel to Paris and hang out on the Left Bank? Stow away on a ship bound for Tahiti? Not the lonely potter. He heads into the bush and starts clearing. And clearing. And clearing. As the dead and dying trees come down, sunlight gets to places it hasn't been for years, and new grass starts to show through the detritus. Maybe it's a metaphor for clearing the mind and getting a fresh start.

Winter took a break in February and forgot to come back until April, so for most of February and all of March, the lonely potter abandoned the pottery studio for the great outdoors, and set to work with his chainsaw. His goal was to create a park from an unkempt piece of land. There were other benefits, like lots of firewood put away for winters to come; sick little trees finding new life as fence poles; big, dead trees assigned to the sawmill, to be turned into boards and lumber; and, unexpectedly, a holiday from pain.

Maybe he was just too busy to think about pain, but there is no doubt that after six weeks of hard labour, he was sleeping better and moving easier than he has for years. Whatever has happened, it is wonderful. Maybe, with the sun shining in and the aches and pains of arthritis at bay, the studio will begin to look more appealing soon. Unless, of course, the sawmill, the fence mending, and the firewood spliting chores call their sirene calls, and the clay is forced to sit idle for a few more months.

What will the spring bring?

Christmas Comes Late

There are no children at the Lonely Potter's house, so Christmas tends to be focussed on food rather than gift giving. The Christmas of 2009 was no different. There were no wild scrambles to find the "just what I wanted" gift, no mountains of wrapping paper to recycle, just a peaceful enjoyment of good company, a beautiful tree, and, of course, excellent food. When the tree started to drop it's needles it was time to put away the Christmas decorations and get back to "normal", without having experienced "abnormal". Then, a few days before Valentine's Day, a box arrived that almost made up for the anticipation, excitement, ripping open of packages, and finally, the exclamations of delight we didn't experience at Christmas.

The Lonely Potter dislikes urban life so he has chosen to live just outside a small community, three hours drive from anything like a major centre and six hours from Vancouver. This creates some inconveniences, such as being unable to easily connect with other pottery people and being unable to shop for those special tools and supplies he needs to experiment and develop his own style of pottery. This has led to hours of trolling the internet, searching for really good pottery websites, with videos of other potters demonstrating their skills, and shopping sites from pottery suppliers. (Here is where, if I had a polular blog, I would put links to these sites, and you would click on them, and I might make a couple of dollars. Until more people start to read this blog, however, convincing them to pay me for sending customers their way might be a challenge. Instead, if you want any of their addresses, contact me and I will give them to you, but you have to promise to tell them who sent you!)

There is a pottery supplier that is like a potters' toyland, and  the box that arrived before Valentine's Day, was an order from there. It was a large box, packed full of wooden, metal and bamboo tools, brushes and decorations. It took about five minutes from the time this box arrived until it was unpacked, wrapping paper tossed aside and all the contents examined and exclaimed over. This was better than Christmas - these things had been wished for years ago, and each one held the promise of being able to try new things, to learn, and to, perhaps, find fulfilment.

For those of us who don't feel a rush of excitment when we discover a new tool or a better tool, this reaction may be hard to understand. The only comparison I can think of is in cooking. When I look at the collection of cooking implements we have accumulated over the years, I can't remember when or why any of them seemed important. To this day, I hardly ever use anything other than a sharp knife, a fork and a wooden spoon when I cook. Still, there is a feeling of security in knowing that, if I need to whisk, grate, or sieve, I can. I suppose it is the same for the lonely potter. As he becomes more comfortable with the basics of pottery, he begins to see new forms he would like to try, new shapes, textures and other variations. Perhaps, just by looking at a new tool, he can create a vision of what will, one day, become a piece of pottery. If a box full of tools can provide the inspiration he needs to enjoy pottery, I'll trade Christmas for pottery day any time.

Meanwhile, the pottery studio is starting to fill up, and the lonely potter is definitely making it his own.

Shelves and kiln packed with greenware, tools, paintbrushes... looks like a real pottey studio