All posts are copyright Barbara Rogers 2018. Please ask if you wish to share, and give attribution to the author.My ancestry and more personal notes are now at a revised version of "When I Was 75."

Sunday, June 14, 2015

The last archaic design vases

I've finished the archaic design vases. Are they ancient or are they modern?  Or both?
Use of an extruder for the base cylinder, then some coils, and some discs...the assembly is not hidden, but just blended with different glazes.

Here are the last of mine for now.  I've used my torn-slab technique as well.

A poem:
by Arataikii
Jul 29, 2014
Drawing my hands through the soft, wet flesh of the Earth.
I know already
It will emerge no chalice.

Cowards will bother,
they will force what isn't there.
They will plead something from nothing.
They will praise their hands.

The Earth is something I repeat,
Dipping hand into water, pressing pedal tenderly.
I wipe my brow like a farmer, returning sweat to the land.

Why are things never enough?
I see the form in the form I'm given.


  1. whenever my sweat drips down onto a pot I am making, I think that too (line in the poem :)

  2. Barbara -- your poem could be looked at metaphorically -- applying itself not only to pottery, but possibly to our lives itself. -- barbara

  3. Gary, I may wipe my hair from my eyes frequently, but I have yet to have sweat on my forehead!
    Barb, yes, so often poetry is metaphor for life!


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