Tuesday, March 11, 2014

In between the Rain and Sun and Clay


Colors shone with exceptional clarity in the rain. The ground was a deep black, the pine branches a brilliant green, the people wrapped in yellow looking like special spirits that were allowed to wander over the earth on rainy mornings only.  ~Haruki Murakami (from Norwegian Wood)





Last week (oh, I think it was two?) I posted a photo of a wheel thrown bowl in black clay.  Glazed with a tenmoku, with a RIO wash lighty sprayed on rim.  Midori (Doo-Goo Contemporary Clay Idols) left a comment asking if I could post a photo that shows off the silvery streaks. I use a Nikon Coolpix S9050 for most photos on this blog.  It is a mid-range pocket camera---several steps down from my DSLR (the Big Camera) and a lot lighter.
I quickly took this shot and rotated it.  Maybe more pewter than silvery, but a lovely satin nonetheless. It does look black in real life until the light hits it. 


It is finally raining again in California.  We tend to get it all at once or none at all.  We are quietly whispering okay, this is good.  Even as the waters rise to our ankles.  Because we know it could stop again in an instant. Even our ice plants know this is their chance. Their pink and yellow blooms sneaking peeks between the breaking sun and rain.

 
back at the studio with a little bit of sunshine maybe this piece will dry finally


It is really hard to stay in and work.  March is a beautiful month around here.  My calla lilies are blooming and the poppies are golden with sunlight.  My crab apple tree is fragrant with tiny red pink flowers.  And the quinces with their sea coral blossoms--so fresh and vibrant against the gnarled and rain soaked branches.  Mustard grows with peppery wild abandon and free to forage.  The sparrows are back, chattering and quarreling around the bird feeder.  Some salty language exchanged, no doubt, adding gossipy notes to their avian soap opera.  This is the time I love--the in between the seasons time--when you know the darkest part of winter is done.  And the lightness of spring begins to shout.  All there is left to do is breathe, sit back and watch the show........

7 comments:

  1. How long do you normally have to dry your sculptures? Two or three weeks? What a lovely description of the impending Spring. What variety of crab apple do you have? I was just thinking of planting one the other day.

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    1. It normally takes about 2 weeks for the earthenware to bone dry. The sculpture mix takes less time. This all depends on the weather, too. I think the crabapple is called prairie. It has persistent red berries in the winter that the scrub jays love. We have to prune it heavily late spring. We probably made sure it was drought tolerant as the yard was mainly native, drought tolerant planted about 15 years ago.

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    2. I think I've heard of that variety, love the fact it keeps it's berries, I will look for it.

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  2. Thank you so much for the very nice photos. It is beautiful!

    It sounds you are a couple of months ahead in season. We are having daffodils in full bloom now. : )

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    Replies
    1. You are very welcomed, Midori.
      We enjoy a moderate climate here in the San Francisco Bay Area. What we call room temperature :-) or a Mediterranean climate zone.

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  3. That bowl, and the way you describe the colours... pure alchemy.

    I love the ocean shot. It looks like a hauntingly rugged coast. My very favourite kind :)

    Beautiful piece. She too, seems quietly glad that spring is coming.

    I love March also, but for the opposite reason. The light softens as the air becomes heavy with moisture, and the nights grow increasingly cooler.
    And now, when the wind blows, leaves begin their departing spiral dance down to the ground as the landscape prepares to be painted in the muted shades of autumn.
    Sigh.

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    Replies
    1. It sounds so lovely...autumn happening twice a year. Once here and once there.

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