The scene is memory and is therefore non-realistic. Memory takes a lot
of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated,
according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory
is seated predominantly in the heart.
from The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams
Clay has a memory. It doesn't always agree with one's own remembering. This particular clay body (terra cotta) has a "short" temperament. It does not like being rolled into coils. It does not like any attachments. It slumps. It does fires to a lovely rusty red. It has a wide firing range. After working and wrestling with it last year I realized we needed to part ways. Then I found 2 bags of it---long forgotten---under the studio table. It had aged a year. Matured. There was a lovely moldy spotting. A good sign. It wedged nicely. I decided to give it a second chance. Out came this sweet face with its clay menagerie. It's nearly done and drying. It will go through some firing. More layering of color. A fable written in scratches and stains. For now, it waits for the kiln. Patiently searching the horizon line between thought and memory.