Remaking my space from cluttered basement, to construction zone, to The Gallery Downstairs, was an exercise in patience, planning, and sweat equity. We are now down to just finishing the office corner, that important final bit. Then, I do believe, some partying will be in order!
The third incarnation of my website is freshly launched. My son and I used a few basic design images from the other two sites, but we built everything else from scratch. This template did not require knowledge of code. This time I can manage the site without much help at all, adding and removing items; writing the text; taking photos of my work, editing them (correcting for color and cropping, mostly) and putting them up on the site. It has been pretty fascinating, occasionally frustrating, and now that sales have begun, rewarding.
What a rocky year this was! I did not write anything for this blog during illness and recovery or during renovation of the gallery space or building the website. But I’m happy to start again. Life’s about starting over and over, isn’t it? For me it is.
So I’m back at the wheel and the glaze table, making new pieces. Someone wants mugs, so mugs it is today. I do love to make them. But looking at my new empty gallery pedestals (came yesterday), I am also planning cookie jars, and matzah plates, and maybe, who knows, sculptural objects. Life has possibilities as long as you believe.
Meanwhile, as I went about unpacking stored pottery and putting it on the shelves in The Gallery Downstairs last week, my best seder plate was nowhere in the boxes. Neither were a couple of other important pieces. Garage? Laundry room? Boiler room? Where did the box get put during the reno? Not anywhere. Was I losing my mind? I went by the last gallery where I had a show. The owner was almost offended; wouldn’t she have called me if I had left a box of my work accidentally? True- she would have. It was my husband who suggested I check a craft show venue from over a year ago. I never dreamed I’d left anything behind when I packed up after that show, but sure enough, they responded to my voice mail, saying they'd put the box in a closet after the show, assuming I'd be back this year. As the owner of that other gallery might have said, shouldn’t they have called me right away to come get it? I can't make everyone be a mensch, but wouldn't it be nice..? Looking on the bright side, I guess I’m supposed to go there again, for reasons unknown to me. I’ll cling to that thought, even as I drive an hour each way...
Welcome back, readers! Ready, set, GO!