 
not a problem if we are organizing a file
cabinet, but we can run into trouble when we label and categorize other
people. Never-the-less, I am about to do just that: most of the people
I have met who are living with a prominent disability fit into the
following category: People who have a lot of guts. This is the type of
person I enjoy spending time with and I am grateful to each person of
this caliber that I have known, for enabling me, through their gutsy
example, to develop my ability to meet adversity with passionate
perseverance.Some of the most expressive pieces of clay  art that I have seen were
made by people who work each day to transcend a prominent disability.
Each of us has disabilities. More important is that each of us has
abilities, as well as the need for our abilities to be recognized. I am
committed to sharing the communal experience of wood-fired pottery with
“people who have a lot of guts.” As a child, I went with my parents and brother to art galleries and museums. Despite the signs everywhere saying “Please do not touch the art,” I would occasionally set off the alarms by getting too close, leaning in beyond the velvet ropes to see the brushstrokes, trying to imagine the hands and the motions that made them. I didn’t intend to touch the paintings, because I knew the oils from my skin would damage them. But I wanted to touch them. 
For my first pottery sale I hung a sign that read “Please touch the art!” As an adult, I am fortunate enough to be fulfilling this desire I had as a child, and to be sharing the experience with others. I have found one of the best ways to teach people clay is to simply hand them a piece. When we make clay art, our touch gives the clay life. When we live with clay art, our touch gives it a reason for living. As a wood-fire potter, my profession involves harnessing the creative potential of fire. I am also a volunteer firefighter, to help counter the destructive potential of fire. |
