Ahh, Ceramics.
Ceramics has a certain quality to fledgeling artists. It forces radical acceptance of adverse situations, such as being arm-deep in a giant bucket of clay slurry so as to scoop it out into a giant drum mixer for reclaim (making new, fresh clay), or more entertaining things such as the project you've been working on for a week snapping into pieces on you while you try to assemble it.
I am very proud to say I did not cry or scream - all that escaped my lips was a hissed "Shiiiit."
And then I threw away the stuff I'd carved and sculpted over a week, into the reclaim bucket, and then went and made new slabs.
17 hours on this in the past week, and about 6 hours today, down the drain, but them's the breaks. I can cry, or I can get shit done, and in Ceramics there is always shit being done.
(On the upside, today my instructor took me outside to teach me to light the gas kilns. I'm a Ceramics I student. They don't generally let us handle the kilns. Ee!)
- Mel
I am very proud to say I did not cry or scream - all that escaped my lips was a hissed "Shiiiit."
And then I threw away the stuff I'd carved and sculpted over a week, into the reclaim bucket, and then went and made new slabs.
17 hours on this in the past week, and about 6 hours today, down the drain, but them's the breaks. I can cry, or I can get shit done, and in Ceramics there is always shit being done.
(On the upside, today my instructor took me outside to teach me to light the gas kilns. I'm a Ceramics I student. They don't generally let us handle the kilns. Ee!)
- Mel