Hot summer, 1986 or so, backyard, a pair of wooden stools standing in the grass.
I had a couple of shallow bisqued bowls lying around my studio. I laid some white earthenware clay in each. I put them out on the two stools and set up clay, water and minimal tools. Then I went to work!
Building from those bases, I rolled big, fat coils of clay between my hands, and walking around the stools, one then the other, I added coils to the two pots. Engrossing task!
They grew taller. Soon I had two big pots going.
I built them over the course of a few days, several inches taller each time. In between, I took them inside and covered them with plastic so they would not dry out. When the next day came, I brought them back outside and worked on them some more. They grew bigger and heavier.
They ended up fairly tall for me (then still a newbie with clay) and big around the body.
I pinched, pulled and paddled the coils into shape. The resulting pots were thick and heavy. The process was all by hand and so satisfying. I had no preconceived notions of what I could or could not do.
When the two pots had firmed up a bit I carved them, spritzed them with watered-down underglazes, and painted designs on them with full-strength underglazes right from the bottle. It was wonderful out there in the grass in the shade, in my summer yard.
Eventually I had these finished pots. Now they flank my fireplace.
Cave of Vines brings back a woodland memory from childhood.
Coreopsis Wind brings me a reminiscence of my garden when my children were small.
The pots make me think of a hot summer in the throes of creative growth.
I am never going to sell these.