New paintings and regular art updates.
This is the planting pocket I made at BArts pottery project a few weeks ago. It was made with rolled out terracotta clay and coloured with bright slip. I used plants to impress patterns into it’s surface. It looked OK, but the colours intensified during firing. I think they are almost too bright. I hope when it has soil and a plant in it, it will look nicer. X
Hope this will be a feature for my garden. Just made today, a planting pocket at a BCB workshop in stoke. Really enjoyed it. Now waiting for firing. The blue and orange are slip colours, there’s a little cat scratched into the left bottom corner. The black and white patch is newspaper holding the planting pocket open until the clay is hardened. I used leaves impressed in the surface for the design but the wet slip obliterated a lot of the details so then I scratched them back into the surface.
Two tankers draining slurry from Portmeirion, the local pottery firm. This is the third day they’ve been doing it. The sound of diesel pumps and engines is so annoying. Have the TV on to drown it out. Usually on a sunny day I’d be in the garden. But the fumes from the lorries goes everywhere. I need to do stuff. The house vibrates when they do this. It might not be very audible in the video. But if we didn’t have double glazing it would be worse! I know they have to do it to keep the business going but this is too much today! I took videos of them from inside the house, with the door closed and the door open. On the one with the door open it was twice as loud. The diesel fumes are being blown away by the wind.
As I write this the pumps have just been switched off. The engines are still running…. No! It’s started up again, must have been changing tankers? The trouble is there is never any warning. They start about 9am and then go on all day. Yesterday and Monday it was just the morning. I want to scream. Would post video but takes up too much memory.
Old mold for a pot,
Vase never to be cast.
Waiting on a window sill
To be made?
No your day has gone,
You are part
Never to be one
And whole.
Broken, split
Your clay slip spilt.
When no longer useful
You become an ornament.
Mallaband-Brown