pottery: December 2016 Archives

#4 winter solstice 2016

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In December I grow accustomed to feeding the dog early and taking our walk before 5pm. I trust that doing my writing practice and my bits of yoga will get me through the short daylight hours. I talk to friends who struggle with the lack of light and others who are grieving for lost friends and parents or the election. I have learned to see the sliver of the moon as a sign of hope. But there are still cloudy evenings when I don't get out the door soon enough and I walk in the dark without moon or stars. Meeting my well worn paths with a sure step I feel a larger darkness looming at the edge of my brain. And those are the nights when I lose the trail and walk smack dab into a tree. My forehead throbs, my brain aches, my mood lands in the gutter. I refocus and grope and look to the edges of my night vision for direction. I wonder does the darkness shift? My eyes adjust, I slow my breath and set my sight on the warm light of the studio and home which has become my true north.

04 winter 2016.jpgWe grow accustomed to the Dark -

When Light is put away -

As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp

To witness her Good bye -

A Moment - We Uncertain step

For newness of the night -

Then - fit our Vision to the Dark -

And meet the Road -erect -

And so of larger - Darknesses-
Those Evenings of the Brain -

When not a Moon disclose a sign -

Or Star - come out - within -

The Bravest - grope a little -

And sometimes hit a Tree

Directly in the Forehead -

But as they learn to see -

Either the Darkness alters -

Or something in the sight

Adjusts itself to Midnight -

And Life steps almost straight.

--Emily Dickinson, "We Grow Accustomed to the Dark"

#2 winter solstice 2016

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When I have been out walking the dog in the dark and I come home hungry with no idea of what to make for dinner I start by slicing an onion and sautéing some garlic and then the rest of the dinner comes together. This series of images starts with some cotton fabric that had the residue of iron slip on wet clay from making nothingness plates for Omen-Azen in New York. These marks were the beginning of the story.

02 winter2016.jpgYou may do this, I tell you, it is permitted.
Begin again the story of your life.
--Jane Hirshfield, from De Capo, in The Lives of the Heart

#1 winter solstice 2016

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Here is the first image in my solstice project. The usual sequence is 21 images with thoughts leading towards December 21, the shortest day of the year.

_WAF5514.jpgSpring passes and one remembers one's innocence.

Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.

Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence.

Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.

-Yoko Ono


About this Archive

This page is an archive of entries in the pottery category from December 2016.

pottery: October 2012 is the previous archive.

pottery: June 2017 is the next archive.

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