I don't know why I love this dithering tool but I really enjoy putting photos into it and seeing it turn into a relic. Somehow it makes the photo feel authentic? Like it was in the paper?
I'm back in Germantown, firing the anagama kiln at Oki Doki. This time the crew is Cor and Em, Lilian and Chala, and of course, me. Maybe it's being a small fish in a new pond, maybe it's having time away from my life to reflect on myself, but every time I come up here I start to feel deeply useless. I adore Lilian but it's sort of the same feeling I have being around my brother- they are so charming and capable that I fade into the background. I've got this bubble that I live in at Gasworks, and I am used to being a source of information and knowledge. I'm used to being capable there, and needed. And here I am pretty ignored, and I try and show my enthusiasm for the process, but it's not as big as Lilian's and Andrew keeps giving her fun little things to do, or people turn to her for advice or conversation. I feel like a bug.
It also doesn't help that I never know what's going on with kilns until I do it maybe 10 times. It was like this in college, it was like this with the gas kiln at New Clay Studio, it's like this with wood. How Lilian retains the information when it's been 9 months since the last firing, I'll never know. It's the same with most processes, it just doesn't stick to my brain. It's like trying to stick a piece of paper to a dusty wall using masking tape that was ripped off a cardboard box- it just sort of doesn't adhere. I went to the firing last night jus to observe and it was like a dog trying to follow a phonics lesson. And it's frustrating- I seem to be asking the wrong questions or asking them badly; I feel like I have to ask the same thing over and over.
I'm not feeling suicidal right now actually, which is nice, but I've had this idea in my head, this plan for years and years now that when I turn 40 I'll jump off a bridge. I don't see a future for myself, and this is sort of a way to keep one foot in front of the other. An out, but not yet. Anyways, I don't know which bridge, but there's plenty in New York. You know when you're getting to one when you see signs on the road promoting mental health hotlines. I've start a google spreadsheet as we were passing over a bridge yesterday. It's only got that one entry, but it's a good one. Walking path, low guardrail, feels like it's a mile high, right over the Hudson. The only issue with jumping is that I've heard you might change your mind on the way down. enough time passes between the act of jumping and the moment of hitting the grounf that you have time to think about your choice. There's that guy who survived who said something like, "I realized that all the problems in my life were solvable, except the problem of me having just jumped off a bridge," and I don't want to experience that. I suppose the other issue with jumping is that you die.
I brought way too many things to the woodfire, and I feel a little guilt about it, but also we didn't have enough work to fill the kiln. So I kept bringing out mugs and bringing out vases. It would be terribly embarrassing to fill the whole kiln to the brim with so much of my work and have it all look like shit. But fuck it, I'm really excited about my mugs, and my vases, and my faces, and my apples. There's a lot of shinos and wood ash glazes, and an apple absolutely covered in woodash (in a way that might be problematic when I have to clean it up... time to invest in dremel bits.)
