Like that famous guy with the beard and the sandals, the life of Pandora is delineated by letters: B.C. and A.D.
(Yes, I acknowledge and accept the inherent blasphemy.)
Before Clay I saw the world as it was.
After Discovery nothing ever looked the same again.
Through my clay-goggles, flowers appear in triangular segments of shape and color, the petals stretched or compressed, the centers dipping primly inward and or pushing up and outward in lusty pride.
Clouds break up into every shade of pink and violet and blue, the colors assymetrical, huddled close like sheep. Wrapped in comfy neutrals and then torn and wrapped again.
The picture shown here makes me want to blend clay by the hour, watching it flow and morph and become luminous, playful, conducive.
I look and look at our astonishing world. I look until my eyes are tired. Then I fall asleep in my goggles and I dream about things I' ve never seen. And I can't wait to wake up and open a new block of clay.
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