Thursday, May 4, 2017

Expectations spell failure





The bride and the groom walk down the aisle thinking that their love will last forever. The new romance of a divorced couple plan on blending their families so that each night on Walton’s Mtn there will be heard Good night, John Boy, Good night, Mary Ellen. The potter has made some tests, some good pots and has expectations of them being great pots. On opening the kiln they come no where near his/her expectations. The best line I ever heard in a student crit “ But they were supposed to be better!’ How much better I asked?  I now hear myself saying “but they were supposed to be better!”
. One of my least favourite lines of my Uncle Jimmie’s was “Somebody will like it!’. For me if I don’t like it I don’t want it out in the world. Here is a jug from one of my crack tests that didn’t live up to my expectations.  Is destined for landfill? Do I sell it as a good effort but not quite on the money? Do I live with it little longer and learn to love it for what it is.  I’m living with quite a few of them as it is.
I have this vision of what are my expectations are and I ain’t about to settle for less.  This is a post on relationships.
Glazing for my small kiln used to take me about a day. Now with this 2 bisque firings, painting on and rubbing off and then waxing again and glazing again I’m up to 3 days for a firing. Then I just may well go and wood fire some of these babies adding probably a week to the process.
A smart man would say this has to effect my pricing.  Who said I was smart? Two of the many requirements of being a potter are a strong back and a weak mind. I was blessed with both

7 comments:

John Bauman said...

Heh. The god of the kiln keeps saying, "Why does he always want to throw away my favorite pieces?!"

smartcat said...

Ah, the crash of expectations versus reality!

carter gillies said...

Have you ever changed your mind about what you like? Stuff you used to hate you sort of appreciate now, and the things you liked back then you can't stand now? Does it make you want to dig back through the landfill and recover the lost gems? Does it make you want to descend on the houses of people who own your pots and smash as many that you no longer like and have no memory of why you thought you were doing something 'good'? Do you ever change your mind? And if you have these regrets, and choose to live with them, if changing your mind is not just inevitable but also somehow *acceptable*, what precisely is the big deal about allowing customers to claim pots THEY like, even if you don't feel as good about them? The you of the present who is doing all this judging and decision making is not the only or the final judge or decider. Your own voice in these matters may change from one moment to the next. What do you owe your present self that you do not owe that future self who will disagree with you now?

cookingwithgas said...

A hammer can be a good friend. Learning the art of letting go. Sometimes it cost more to save.

Marie said...

I plan on building a pretty pathway to my workshop with the sherds of the pieces I didn't like, except after I lived with them a while, I find they grow on me :)

Billie Stimac said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Billie Stimac said...

Your uncle is right. I like the pitcher. Is it still available?