And More Wood!

Yes.  We found a guy!  Murray was fantastic.  He is a trucker and a wood-guy from Carleton County.  He picked up our seasoned Tamarack that had been left in the field in Knowlesville (after the old woodsplitter had been stolen), and he trucked it all the way to Queenstown--a 3 hour drive.

Lee and I initially argued about where to put the wood.  Lee didn't want the wood in the front yard. I pointed out that a) there is no other place for the wood, and b) why the HECK would you object to putting a huge load of logs on top of the lawn that you [clearly] have absolutely no interest in, or inclination towards, mowing????

I won.  And Lee admitted that the massive pile of Tamarack is actually quite pleasing.  When Murray arrived in his truck and started unloading the wood, we all ran outside for front row seats.  For Horus and Treva, anyway, there is little else as exciting as a big truck, a loader, and whole whack of 8 foot logs.

When Murray's hydraulics broke down and Lee had to jump up on the truck and help Murray fix the hoses, everyone was especially excited and proud.  (Lee worked in the woods for many years with his father, and he knows his stuff).

(And yes--we are very VERY aware of how potentially dangerous it is for our little children to be climbing on a stack of logs.  Lee's older brother's arm broke when a log rolled onto him in a similar scenario, as a kid.  We're careful.  Don't worry).

Lee and I are both pleased by the fact that we have managed to fit EVERYTHING we could ever want in the world on a tiny 3/4 acre plot of land:  Our little house, our studio & outbuildings, chickens, two ducks (in the backyard), dogs, kids, 8 cords of tamarack, a vegetable garden, and the beginnings of our soon-to-be anagama.  Right on Clarks!

Magic Anagama

Sorry, can't talk.  Too tired, too crazy, too much happening! Quick update: We abandoned the roof, for now--no time.  Must lay bricks.

And yes, we do want and need your help.  Kiln-building party next weekend, the 31st of May, and June1. Come to Queenstown!  Call 245-0741 or email sasamat.clark@gmail.com.  Or just show up.  We're 10 minutes south of the village of Gagetown.  4616 Route 102.  We will feed you good food, ply you with homemade kombucha, love you forever, and give you pottery. Please come.

xoxoxo

Clay Arrival!

The clay and the dry materials have arrived!  And before I could take any photographs of the pallets sitting dramatically on the driveway, Lee had everything moved into the studio, lickety split.  All five thousand pounds worth.  For the record, had I not been teaching piano in Saint John, I *totally* would have been there helping out.  I know it's probably egomaniacal, but I do get a huge kick out of lifting lots of heavy things all the time, as an almost-hugely pregnant lady.

I was buying some bags of sheep manure the other day, and the woman at the cash *insisted* that someone accompany me to load the car.  After protesting and getting nowhere, I conceded.  But when we got outside, I started hauling.  And actually, I wasn't trying to make a show of my...female machismo (?)...I just wanted to get home!  The poor guy gawked, and stammered "Oh dear, please just don't let anyone know that you were loading these as well".  I laughed and said, yah, sure.  Then he said "You're a tough one, aren't you?  I bet you tell everyone in the hospital that you can do it yourself, when it's time for that baby to come out".  I laughed again and said, Close--actually, I prefer just to stay home altogether.  Then I don't even have to deal with anyone *trying* to tell me what to do.  "There you go".  Said the guy.  "I knew it".

 It was kind of a nice exchange.

Lee and I use some commercial clays--as seen here--as well as natural clays that we dig ourselves, from stream-beds out and about.  That's next!  But for the time being, we're both pretty stoked about trying some of the new purchased clays.  What you see here will last us for the rest of the year, hopefully.

Stop and Go

Yesterday was gorgeous, sunny and hot.  Lee had pots to trim in the morning so the kids and I went to a used booksale, which, if you've ever been over to our house, you'll know is a really bad idea for me...but of course, I feel secure in the knowledge that if the world comes to an end, at least my children will be erudite and educated, thanks to the wealth of reading material available...all over the darned place.  Whew.

When we returned, Lee was fighting with a piece of string and a little spirit level.  Iphone to the rescue!  He figured out a technique which involved perching on the ladder, holding the phone camera over the level, snapping a picture, and then deciphering from there whether or not we were straight across.

For the rest of the day, Lee and I would get 6 minutes of work done, before having to go break up a fight, kiss a scraped knee, catch a runaway, chase a dog, etc.  Oh well.  We're getting there.  Hopefully the posts will get cut off later today, and roof ahoy.

Personality Failures, Glaze Failures

To my immense shame, I divorced Lee yesterday.  Just on facebook mind you, but somehow the foolishness of proclaiming my rage in such an ineffectual and idiotic way in front of over 1000 people doesn't sink in until, oh, 20 minutes later.  I find myself so wearying.  I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, having to live with me.  Ugh. The horror.

Anyway.  I won't go into Lee's wrongdoings--I am, as you must know by now, far too mature for that kind of thing.  La la la.

Also, I have nothing to write about, because our kiln progress has effectively stalled--not really on account of marital strife, but because I'm in Saint John teaching piano, and Lee is back in Queenstown hanging out with Horus and Treva, both of whom are truly a big help when it comes to kiln-building, but without at least two big people around, progress is admittedly slow.

So, here are some photographs of one day a month or so ago, which Lee spent in the old forge in our barn, building a mini rock-heating kiln-thingy, in order to warm, blast and crush some iron-bearing rocks he had found on the roadside, in hopes that this might make for a fantastic and gorgeous glaze.

Well, this did not make a fantastic and gorgeous glaze.  Lee fired the first cup in a firing of David Eastwood's kiln that was a bit of a bust--not hot enough, wet wood, bad weather.  The cup came out brown and hideous.  The second cup bearing the same glaze...also came out brown and hideous.  (I'll try to get a photograph of the hideous cups, I am sure you're all dying to take a look).

The end.

Well, sort of the end.  Is there a moral to either of these pathetic stories?  I don't know.  I just hope that Lee and I don't put in hours, days and years of what we individually perceive as honest effort--towards the relationship, and the pots, and the kids and everything...and end up feeling burned and covered in shit.

The end.

No no, not the end.  Look at those incredible, brilliant and amazing kids.  Get over yourself, Yo.  Get over it.

Roof Posts!

Lee's younger brother Justin, his wife Lindsay, and their little guy Cole came over yesterday to give us a hand setting the tamarack posts into the ground for the roof of our kiln.

Horus and Treva helped throughout.

We had a nice break for lunch: sushi and vegetable soup.

By the end of the day, 6 posts were in the ground.  Thank you so much Justin & Lindsay!

My Dad and the Dalai Lama

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama was in Ottawa (the capital of Canada!) yesterday, and, I believe, today.  I would never pretend to understand anything about politics, but I am pretty horrified by what I have heard and read about the Chinese government, now and in the past, and it seems to be fairly well agreed upon that the Tibetan people have been, and continue to be oppressed.  I have also read conflicting views on the Dalai Lama himself.  There are those who question his stance on gay rights, as well as nuclear armament, and some who see him as an opportunist who has used soft spirituality to gain power and recognition.  Gee whiz.  I have enjoyed the Dalai Lama's writings, and he seems fairly dedicated to trying to reach a non-violent conclusion to the occupation of Tibet.

(My dad in the late 70s...I was born in 1981.  I think this was taken in Port MacNeil in BC, when he worked as a reporter for their local newspaper.)

My Dad is a really cool guy, and it is thanks to him (and to my Mum, Gramps, Lee's family and many others of course) that we are now in the position of finally building the anagama of our dreams.  Despite what has seemed--even to me--at times to be utter insanity, Dad has continued to loan me money for bricks, building materials, and more.  Much more.  Last week we got a care package in the mail which included some sweetgrass for burning, and an absolutely gorgeous book on Antique Korean Pottery.  My dad is pretty incredible, actually, and I am very grateful.  He is also brilliant, funny, exasperating, and completely crazy.  Crazy as a shithouse rat, actually.  He also has the best and most disgusting expressions, including "crazy as a shithouse rat" of course .  Along with his choice and cutting turns of phrase, his true stories are lots of fun.  In his twenties, he drove a taxi for a few months, and remembers picking up a bunch of grubby young Irish boys from the Vancouver airport, who were playing a gig in some downtown dive.  They chatted all the way into the city, and had a grand old time.  The band's name?  U2.

Dad also remembers being in the Safeway--a grocery store in Point Grey where we lived in Vancouver, 25 or so years ago.  He was picking up some eggs or something, and he turned the corner at the end of the aisle, and saw a diminutive Asian man in saffron robes, whom he immediately recognized as being His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama.  Were you going through your Buddhist phase then, Dad?  (Maybe he was dabbling in Bahai' at that point...anyway--it was always fun).  His Holiness was buying a pound of butter, for a ceremony, Dad guessed.  In any case, my dad went right up to the Dalai Lama, made eye contact, smiled, and bowed.  His holiness smiled back, bowed also, and that was that.  A small moment of connection.

I just posted the incredible teabowl, above, to our etsy shop.  We had thought to maybe keep it for the permanent collection, but Lee and I had a little chat, and figured that someone out there might find it as magical and irresistible as we do.  The New Brunswick government bought one of Lee's teabowls to give as a gift to the King of Bhutan when he was here once, a few years ago.  Maybe we should send His Holiness a woodfired gift?  Hm.  Maybe if he comes to visit New Brunswick we'll do just that.

Thanks Dad.  For your support, your words, your stories.

Love,
yo