When will we take our last trip? For the summer, for the season, before the ice comes and covers the water’s surface. Before it is too cold and too windy, and the rain drops hit our faces with such a force I think to myself that they must leave red marks on my skin. I will be polka dotted before we come back home.
Or have we already taken our last trip? Which one was it? I have to think back, trace back in time, flicker through my memory archives to remember. Was it that day where we ran out of motor grease in the middle of the sea, half way from and half way to?
To move, to travel if only twenty minutes, breaks up the straight lines, changes up the pattern, makes me leave a few thoughts behind to make room for new ones. Like, who is living up there, on the hillside of the island with huge glass windows with the blinds down always it seems? And who is that, hopping of the yacht and in mid air saying to the restaurateur “This will make my wife happy!” and is off in a minute with a steaming paper bag, leaving only surges behind and I smile. Whatever works.
Out on the sea, healing in the sense that it makes me present, watching the water, looking for where the waves break to not hit a shallow, looking for the fairway, calculating the speed of the other boats, where to go across and where to follow in their wake. The rhythm of the water, how it moves, changes shape. The scent of the water, the fresh wind blowing through my mind, body, and how it reflects the sunlight, glitter and spark. Leaving to forget, and remembering as soon as my foot touches our bridge again.
She is now mine, and it feels weird in a good way to be able to have her. I’m not even 30 and I have already got my dream chair.
The contrast between the natural, matte, soft, dark leather and the industrial, shiny, hard, bright and cold armrests is so beautiful to me.
Though the shapes of the cushions and armrests, the rounded edges and the proportions, unite them and make the chair feel like one cohesive piece. At least this is the way I perceive it. 🙂
These are the last iteration I have made on this project and problem solving attempt. The goal is to make a coffee cup that avoid drops from traveling down its sides and to have a grip that prevents you from burning yourself, and to make a milk jar that does not allow drops of milk to travel down its sides and so reach the surface it stands on and make a nasty circle there. 🙂
This time I used a more elastic and flexible white clay, and glazed it with a simple shiny light grey glaze. I dipped them once so that you can see the traces of how the tools have cut the clay. They are hand built (not made on a wheel), which made me proud that I could accomplish such thin clay.
For the muggs the collar work primarily as a grip. For the milk jar the collar collects the milk drops traveling down its sides after pouring.
Here you can see how the marks from when I have peeled off the clay from the inside to make the walls of the mugs thinner.
Here is the pocket that catches the milk drops.
The beautiful imperfection and unevenness of hand building. 🙂
This is not sleep tired or post exercise tired. Neither is it hungry tried or focused tired. Just tired, and maybe soul tired. I’m trying to relax into it, to let myself be, and not make an effort to change. I try not to push against it and so create resistance. I try to let go, not to give up, but to release, to give in. Approaching acceptance.
Time to time I pick up materials in the street, this wood board is one of them. Someone’s trash is someone else’s treasure as they say. 🙂
This pink sweater has been with me for 12 years. I bought it at a small vintage store and wore it often. At the time I paired it with a polo shirt in bright pink and green and let the collar peak at the neckline of the sweater. In my ears I had one pink and one green earring in the shape of shirt buttons. 😉 A lot has changed since then but some days I feel just the same.
The beauty in time passing, allowing age to take place. To travel with time, not pushing against, not attempting to escape. To see the beauty in time, letting it make its mark, inviting change to come. To know that all is temporary and so this will pass, not taking into consideration my preference.