perfection rebellion tested

A mug broke in my studio yesterday.

One that I had made. On Monday. Wirecut a hunk of brown speckled clay. Rolled out the slab. Carefully imprinted a plant that I had found this past weekend on the side of a mountain. Made a handle. Attached it. Set it on the shelf to dry. 

Yesterday: standing in front of my drying shelves, surveying my present work, deciding whether to bisque fire or glaze fire. I picked up this mug to feel if it was cool to the touch (still incubating - not ready to fire) or leather hard and warm (ready to cook - it was not). I noticed a slight crack down the side. I pushed gently on it and the wall caved in.

My first feeling likened to an anvil falling on my head - (all that work, I whimpered silently). But it stopped before I watched myself tumble down the hill. I grumbled a hrmph. Added a shrug for effect. Set down the broken pieces. Went back to the shelves.

This is pottery.

That is growth.

And onward.

peace,
Deirdre