The Highs, and the Lowdown

So how did it go--they wanted to know. Did you have a good day at the Art Festival?
The day started the week before when there was an acute realization that the To Do checklist was still growing and time was shrinking. The day started a couple years ago, really, when I decided to follow my gut and my heart and create pieces that give me intense pleasure to make, in spite of occasional creative frustration. The day started at 6 AM when I gathered all the carefully packed boxes of artwork, the hastily packed boxes of clay, tools, lace, plaster bats, rags, receipt book, title cards, name banner, scissors, bucket, extra tables, extra chairs, extra packing materials, duct tape (just in case), snacks, water bottle, hat, sunscreen, purse, keys, and cell phone and packed it all into my minivan. By 10 AM I was ready for the steady, but light stream of art appreciators and patrons who strolled around the lovely wooded campus in search of inspiration and beauty to take home.
I don't think I will ever get used to hearing exclamations that let me know other people are enjoying looking at my sculpture at least as much as I enjoy making it. And it is completely gratifying when a piece is sold, because in some ways, the purchaser enjoys the piece even more than I do at that moment. Enjoys it enough to want it around for a long time (I assume), whereas I have already "moved on", focusing my attention on creating something new.
Yes, no doubt about it: it was thrilling moment when at the end of the day, I sold two pieces to a woman who couldn't decide which one she liked better. Even at this point in my life, there is a wonderful sense of completion in my creative process when someone who is not my mother feels something strongly spiritual when encountering my artwork. Although I expect I would keep doing it no matter the public reaction, making that connection is so sweet.
It was a good day.

mud + water + fire

As it happens, while I am taking my first blog around the block so to speak, my kiln is cooling with the first load of glaze ware it has held since its recent reconditioning. Buying this second hand kiln reminded me of the day I bought my first car in 1975--a classic beige VW Beetle. It was hardly new at the time it come to into my hands, not all that pretty, but gave great service. I sold it 6 years later for considerably more than I paid for it. I am hoping this kiln, which was being manufactured at the Cress factory about the year the Bug was purchased, will be as good an investment.
It fascinates me to stare into its deep hole of an eye during firing...peering into its fiery soul as it changes from deep cherry red to intense vermilion. Once I smelled that weird disgusting odor of singed hair and realized there are limits to peering into the depths of 1200 degrees Fahrenheit, even with many inches of firebrick between the glow and the hair on my chinny chin chin. But as the evening cools down considerably here in So Cal, so do the bowls and samples inside the kiln. There isn't much I can do to speed things along at this point, except wait until morning when I will open the top, and like Christmas morning, behold a beautiful gift, or a lump of coal.
Wish me luck.