Feasting

I went to the Chimneyville Crafts Festival yesterday, my annual indulgence in handmade wonder, with my best friend.  I think this was my fifth or sixth year to go now.  I never cease to be amazed at what people can do with their hands. 

There is something for everyone there, really, something at every possible price point.  All of it, though, is so incredibly well-crafted.  And I need that beauty to feed my soul.  Going there is like a giant feast for me, edibles for the eyes, the hands, the heart.  Even though I actually buy very little since the great and mighty state of Mississippi has decreed that I am going to live a life of genteel poverty if I continue to teach here, I can look, touch, and marvel, run my fingertips over glazes, finishes, fabrics and be fiercly glad that someone, somewhere can create these things.

Every year, I bring home one big piece.  This year, I was torn between two:  a Sam Clark dragon that caught my heart or one of the Peter Rose crows that I collect.  Both potters are favorites of mine, wonderful artists who make distinctive pieces with character and skill.  I've been trying to work up to three of the Peter Rose ravens/crows for a long time now, collecting one every other show or so.  Last year, as you may remember if you read here very often, after a couple of years of casting longing looks at Sam Clark's dragons, I got my first piece by him. 

The tough thing about loving good pottery and being a teacher is this:  good pottery is expensive.  As it totally should be.  That is not a complaint about the price of the pieces.  God knows that every one of those dragons Sam Clark makes has enough detail on it to more than justify what he charges.  They absolutely fascinate me.....  I can sit and look at them for days.  When you consider that Peter Rose is firing his pieces in a noburigama, or well, at least a wood-fired kiln anyway since I'm not sure he actually has a stepping kiln, and that he usually has tremendous loss to get those fantastic glaze colors, his prices are exceptionally reasonable.  It's just that I get paid so very, very, frustratingly little...

I decided to do something a little different this year.  I started talking to Sam Clark, and I think he might make me a baku.  I am extremely excited about this.  I've been turning that idea over in my head since I bought my dragon from him last year, but I never emailed him about it because...well....I don't know why exactly....  I just didn't.  It felt presumptuous to ask in an email, I suppose.  But yesterday, I was an inch away from buying that wonderful,big blue dragon he had, the one reading the book, and devil-take-the-hindmost (and OH, I shouldn't have done....it would have broken the credit card and the bank and my budget for the next two months, but it would have be gorgeous...for that kind of piece, I need to save and plan), and I just found the question sort of tumbling out of my mouth about the baku. 

It may be summer or later before he has a chance to think about it, but I hope he's going to do it.  I got to see some of his sketches for other things, and they were gorgeous.  I love his style, so I can't imagine not loving his baku, too.  He's a very interesting person to talk to, as well, so I think working with him will be easy.

Of course, that's one of the best things about Chimneyville or Prairie Arts to me, really.  You get to talk to the people who make the pieces.  Almost everyone is always so kind, so friendly, always so ready to tell you about their art.  I love talking to the potters, especially now that I'm starting to learn a little something about their craft.  I can look at some pieces now and understand how basic things were done, and it makes me appreciate those pieces even more.  (How it makes me feel about my own work we'll just leave alone....)  I love that the gentleman who made the wooden rocking animals for little kids actually got on one to show me that adults could ride them, too, when I told him they were a little small for me.  I love that the lady who had the hand-dyed wool flowers gave away one that wasn't perfect to a lady who was buying two others just because she knew it would make her happy.   I love that the whole atmosphere is that of something community, and not slick, glossy, and big-business.

And then, of course, there's the staggering loveliness of it.  I saw things yesterday that fed my little beauty-loving soul, will keep it going for a long time.  My best friend had finally had to guide me away, babbling stupidly, from a $12,000 carving of a deer taller than I, made from one giant trunk of black walnut.  The lines of it, the detail of it, everything was elegant and graceful, and if I'd had $12,000 about me, it would have gone to that artisan just for the pleasure of having that sculpture in my home. 

My best friend cut through the haze as we were walking away, dragging my feet back down to earth.  "Uh-huh.  A $12,000 scratching-post."  I laughed.  She was absolutely right.  I'd wake up in the middle of some night to the sound of Yoda being exceptionally grateful for that sculpture.  Some pieces belong in my house.  Some pieces don't.  Nevertheless, I am grateful for all the beauty I saw, for the break from my regular, sometimes crushing routine, and for getting a little art to feast on for awhile with the promise of a special treat to look forward to down the road.