When I pick up a piece of soft porcelain, it begins to sing its song to me. Unlike a human song, which takes its form in a linear way and is composed of high vibrating sonics and moves from beginning to end, the clay’s song begins with its core and moves out into the space around it, calling for layer upon layer of slower vibrating matter until it has configured its self into a form.
The clay plays me like a composer playing a piano, the song of the clay uses me to preform its form.
It sings through my bones at me and I try to keep up to its demands with technique and innovation but I never know what’s coming next. I guess that that is the fun of it.