Why must I play? I love finishing pieces. I love seeing something work the way I imagined it. I love the mistakes that teach me and inspire me. I love seeing something beautiful that came from my hands.
Why must I... Clay is a marriage or, rather, a series of functional and disfunctional families. It is the imaginative but it also the practical. Items must have a purpose, even if that purpose is beauty. Clay demands that its subjects be art, even in the most rustic form, yet it is so practical it demands to be useful. It is soft and flexibly, easily moldable yet defies smoothing in its crevicies, bubbles with glaze, shrinks and burns. Clay is the perfect name for child, maliable in youth, fragile in adolescence, set in it's ways as an adult.
And so I too am clay, and hereby melt away.
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