This is how I spend a lot of my time in the pottery studio, with ceramic greenware items resting on my crossed knee while I refine them with bits of window screen and wire tools after pinching the basic form. This step thins and lightens the piece, accentuates and sometimes creates the details I want, and generally makes the piece pop a little more, structurally-so at least, than it did at first pinching.
New York City's been blessed for four days now running with the most gorgeous and inspiring weather--Clear blue, cloudless skies with penetrating, saturated sun and cool breezes.
The weather motivated me to ignore a stubborn, too-logical resistance I've harbored for the past few years about purchasing a bicycle despite a strong inner desire to have one. I wondered where I'd store it, would I ride it enough for it to be worthwhile, did I deserve it? Oy!
It was such a relief to let go of my resistance and just fall into the sweetness of allowing myself to have it--rational or not--my
low-end, cornflower blue Raleigh hybrid. I've ridden every day since purchase, and I've figured out a way to rearrange our entryway to accommodate a vertical stand and my bike without congesting the hallway too much. It surprises me now how strong my resistance was.
I experience this same kind of resistance when making pottery--when I'm trying too hard to make something, trying to manipulate the end result instead of just listening inwardly and making what is there already.
This is the first mini table top water fountain I've pinched.
