Dressed to Kiln

How I spent the last 15 months

2011-05-11T16:15:00.000-07:00

Has it really been that long? How do I explain the lengthy absence?

Let me count the ways:
Divorce
Discordance
Disappointment
Disgust
Disagreement
Distemper (not really)
Dismember (only in my imagination)
Disinclination
Disdain
Disinterest
Discontent.

All of these negatives need to be displaced by discipline, discourse and distinction.

I'm getting there. Slowly.

In the meantime, I have a new show opening at Muse Gallery on Friday, May 13. Dreamscape pots. Please come by to celebrate my emergence from the chrysalis (dischrysalising, so to speak).

Show time!

2010-01-12T15:43:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm not making any money (yet), I'm getting a lot of recognition for my pottery. And with a lifestyle business that's the goal, right? (Not what my husband thinks, however. He's sure our clay ship will come in one of these days.)

My show at Muse Gallery opened last Friday. Despite temperatures in the teens the turnout was fantastic. Being a resident artist of the gallery means I have to work a certain amount each month, so my job was primarily to schmooze. Lots of kudos and one sale!

Which is more than I can
say for my ArtFire
store, which has
accumulated
lots of page views,
but no closed deals.

Sales pitch

2009-07-27T15:48:00.000-07:00

It's Monday, and I'm still recovering from my first art fair.

The Longmont Farmers' Market, an edition of Boulder County Farmers Markets, holds a fine arts fair once a month during the months the market is open. So I pitched my canopy there last weekend to participate in my first fair.

It was quite a learning experience.

1. My booth and inventory really does fit in my car. Only had to bungee one item to the roof.

2. Despite marketing hype to the contrary, popping up my "easy to use" canopy is not a one-person activity. But fellow artsy folks are very willing to help.

3. Broken s**t happens.

4. Lookie-loos rule.

5. Without the help of another Boulder Potters' Guild member, Sanna Adams, I might still be trying to jam everything back in the car.

Next weekend I'll have my canopy up at the Rocky Mountain Tea Festival, held at the beautiful Dushanbe Tea House in downtown Boulder. Please come and support your local potter.

Banner week

2009-05-08T17:02:00.000-07:00

As a crafts newbie, I was not quite prepared for my first show and sale. But being apprentice at the Boulder Potters' Guild I have the opportunity to participate in our twice-yearly sales.

My husband, Mike, helped me design and gather the materials for my booth. Since I primarily focus on functional ware, I wanted to display my pieces in ways that would show off its unique usability. So, at his suggestion, we wandered over to ReSource, a Boulder institution devoted to the collection and resale of used building materials. There we found laminate counter samples that could be used to suggest a kitchen and bathroom counter. I thought installing faucets in the counters would further the illusion of these utility areas, so we scrounged old sinks for suitable fixtures.

We also found a serviceable medicine cabinet for the "bathroom" and a window through which to gaze into the "back yard" from the "kitchen."

A trip to Costco resulted in a 6-foot folding table that could be further folded into a portable package, along with cheap plastic shelving.

Having to glaze and fire additional inventory prevented us from building out the "set" entirely, but once it was set up at the Boulder County Fairgrounds in the midst of my fellow potters I was pretty well pleased with the outcome.

But what made the experience result in a banner week were two outcomes.

First, I sold 40 pieces, many more than I anticipated. So I made a few bucks both for myself and the Guild, a 501 c (3) .

Then I got an email from a manufacturer who bought a good number of my pump dispenser bottles with the intention of filling them with product and selling them. No contract has been signed yet -- he wants to see how well they sell before commiting to a wholesale arrangement.

But I feel confident we'll be able to work together. Watch for the link here ...

Tell all

2009-05-03T15:29:00.000-07:00

So, I've been calling myself a writer for quite some time. But I can't really say I'm writing. I have many, many ideas -- all true stories -- that I think would make great reading. It's not writer's block. It's more like time block. I'm just not making the time to craft the tales.

What's obsessing me now is the three weeks I recently spent on the East Coast. I went ostensibly to take care of my mother as she recovered from knee replacement surgery. My idea was to get my parents to nail down their memoirs while I had a captive audience. But neither is able to be captive, even my "disabled" mom. She was progressing faster in her recovery than I did with my hip replacement last year. Hard to keep her settled down, and often once she took the time to relax she immediately dozed off.

But the time was much more about me than I has anticipated, and the fodder for stories is swirling around in my brain like a many-fruited smoothie.

How you can't go home again when your parents moved out of your home town more than 20 years ago. Even visiting the old homestead didn't feel like going home. When I emerged from the train at the old train station I was completely lost. I stood by the tracks trying to figure out which way to turn; I didn't recognize anything. How could Glen Cove be this lush? The homes so grand, the lawns so inviting?

How parents quickly revert to overprotective once you're under their roof for any amount of time, even though you're old enough be a grandparent too.

What saved my sanity being away from my comfortable Boulder life for so long was bicycling. I had the forethought to bring my folding Bike Friday. But cycling was a nonstop confrontation with mom and dad. Everywhere I rode was "too far." Days with an overcast sky were "not nice enough to ride." The roads were "unsafe," and I'd never find a place to lock the bike up. (I later discovered, despite a complete lack of bike maps and few bike lanes, paths or racks, New Jersey ranks 9th on the League of American Bicyclists' bike friendly states. Go figure.) The morning I took Friday into Manhattan on the bus my parents sat me down for a serious talk about the dangers of the big, bad city and nearly grounded me. (It turns out NYC is designated "bronze" in bike friendliness by the League, but I have to disagree.)

The visit culminated in my fourth grade reunion, complete with our teacher Helen (for God's sake stop calling me Mrs.) Greene. Reconnecting with the group, especially a core of six who spent the day hanging out at our old haunts, was magical.

All this to say, jeez, so much content, so little impetus. Like everything else, first I need a strategic plan, which of course requires commitment and even more writing.

At least it's in public now. I hope to hold myself accountable for progress ...

Show and tell

2009-05-03T15:14:00.000-07:00

Today's the last day of the Boulder Potters Guild spring sale. My first show! I loved seeing my stuff walk out the door in the arms of proud new owners. Hope it's the start of yet another brilliant career.

Vision quest

2009-04-02T11:56:00.000-07:00

I'm saddled with too many ideas and not enough time.

I bore easily. You can interpret that both ways: I'm both easily bored and easily boring.

I fritter time following inauspicious tangents. I occasionally tweet, but rarely follow my Twitter friends. Distractions distract me.

Luckily I have a business coach who can pull me back to reality. And she uses some unconventional techniques that really work for someone who bounces around mentally.

Today Theresa took me on another guided meditation that took all of 10 minutes and accomplished probably a month of psychotherapy. I felt myself being held back by a past experience that was preventing progress on one of my business paths. (Too many ideas includes running four businesses, count 'em, with my husband.)

Her words placed me on a path carrying a too-heavy backpack. Immediately I was transported to Oz, traveling along the Yellow Brick Road accompanied by the scarecrow, lion and tinman. I could see the Emerald City in the distance, glowing green and promising.

What was in the backpack that was preventing completing the journey, she asked. I pulled out crumpled up bits of newspaper that, when unfolded, revealed huge display ads for useless products and services. The bag was also rattling and uncomfortably bumpy and misshapen -- it was filled with ugly rocks and pieces of broken pottery.

Once I realized what was holding me back I was able to dump out the contents. Now I was relieved of my burden and ready to resume the journey. At that point I realized my business partner/spouse was the lion, and that I was going to have to encourage him as well.

We also performed an exorcism. In addition to the lumpy backpack, I been burdened by the mental image of a promising business relationship gone awry. I just haven't been able to forgive myself for not seeing the problems earlier. Theresa had me draw a picture of the bad relationship.

"Now, how do you want to get rid of it?" she asked. Options she suggested included tearing it up or burning it in my kiln.

"I'll put it under the wheel of my car and back over it." It felt to satisfying and freeing to mentally destroy that image.

Don't text me, bro

2009-03-19T08:30:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at Vic's having been stood up by my 9 a.m. coffee meeting.

I had thought of checking my email prior to rushing down here. But I figured if he was running late he would have called by now.

When I got to the coffee shop, five minutes late by my watch, there was no sign of him. So I fumbled around in my bag for my cell phone to see if there was a message.

There was a text. It was from the fellow I was supposed to meet, apologizing for having to cancel, stating he'd call ASAP.

A text?

I'm still baffled enough by my new phone that I couldn't tell when it arrived. I started to thumb a reply, but couldn't figure out how to make it recognize "Vic's" as an acceptable word. So I decided I'd send him an email once I got the laptop situated.

But first I had to vent a little.

I'm a fairly wired (and wireless) boomer, but I rarely use my cell phone. It's more of a nice to have than a must have. I even downgraded my service from an all-you-can-eat plan to a pay-as-you-go because I just wasn't using the shmorgasbord enough.

The cell is mostly for emergencies, for courtesy calls, for killing time waiting at the dentist's office. It's usually with me, and if it rings (and I hear it) I answer. I look at it maybe once a day to see if it's holding any messages. I never text. And until today I had never gotten one.

The home/office number is a different story. Gotta have it. Use it all the time. Fight over it with my husband, who also works at home. Get the messages immediately and return calls.

If you want to reach me do it the old-fashioned way. Call me, on the land-line number.