All my work is packed for the move. Except for the pieces I sharded. You know what they say, you can’t take it all with you.

This is it. Thirty-three boxes and crates. Don’t be fooled by the shoeboxes, they are basically full of rocks. Some of the crates hold only a couple of sculptures.

This is not it. A five gallon bucket, and about half of a ten gallon wastebasket.

I liked these cups, but this one was really warped. Hammer time.

A cool tri-pod vase that developed some major cracks on its second trip in the soda kiln. I really liked it and kept it for about four years, but it was time to let that one go.

The one time I played with majolica glazes.

Last week’s firing of Gary the Groundhog yielded some good pots, some not-so-good pots, and lots of information. But that’s another story. Today’s story: a nice little plate by Ryan Strobel. It didn’t quite survive the firing, but it’s a Good form with a pretty skin, so he gave it a quick sanding and sent it away with me. Yay!

Today I used my new plate to hold some lunch. My little avocado-egg-onion-salsa taco looked so pretty on the plate that I couldn’t resist a photo.

The plate is between eight and eight and a half inches across. It’s pretty flat, but there’s enough depth and breadth to hold and keep food. (That seems obvious, but if you’ve ever used a too-flat plate…) I like a good rimless plate and this one is a convenient size, so I have a feeling it will get a lot of use.

Just a quick one. I was lucky enough to bring home a few new pots from the Minnesota potters tour. One nice piece is a pouring vessel by Linda Christianson. It’s odd, too: too big to lift comfortably with one hand, and the lid might double as a cup. Function might call for a handle, but this pot doesn’t need a handle. To me, after a few weeks of looking at it, I start to have suspicions on why that may be. I think of the architectural, of farms, of water towers, of oilcans, of the unornamented and stoutly functional. Check back in another year, maybe, and see what I think then.

Tea. I drink loose tea, and this is perfect to steep in or decant into. This weekend a potter friend is staying with me, and this morning we made some tea. I’m happy to say that my odd pouring vessel made a fine inaugural performance. White tea and cool enough water to skip the decanting. Also conscripted into service were a couple resident cups, one from Charlie Jahn and one from Bandana Pottery.

Now that white might look cold just looking at the side but photos don’t do it justice. It’s really good holding some color, the size is perfect in my hand, and I love pinholed glazes. Luckily I don’t mind a few leaves in my cup.

I want to share Thomas Thwaites’ “The Toaster Project”

“The project is a reaction to the idea that it’s possible or desirable to be self-sufficient, but also to the view that having more stuff, more cheaply is better.” -Dezeen

(Photo via Dezeen)

Obviously this is a departure from couch cushion architecture. Prima facie, it’s no less absurd. Thwaites wanted to replicate a toaster that he bought for about ten dollars, starting with refining the raw materials. Thwaites writes, “The contrast in scale between between consumer products we use in the home and the industry that produces them is I think absurd…”

It’s a great research project, though. It’s honest, it’s thoughtful, and he’s done his holy homework… including smelting iron in a microwave. (Yes, really.) There’s more information and videos on his process on his website. Check it out.

This post is to direct your attention to a pair of blog posts that provide a survey of couch cushion architecture, as well as critical discourse.

Build Blog, Post 1
Build Blog, Post 2

I hope you’ll find them amusing as well. I imagine that a lot of giggling went on while these were being written. An excerpt:

An ambitious architectural statement, this structure takes its design queues from middle-east cave dwellings. The calculated addition of bold colors and rich textures softens the eye and puts one at ease despite the unknown variables in its structural system. Grade: B

Of course the writing is absurd, given its subject. But sometimes I feel the same way about real art criticism…