evolution

this, i suppose, is what friends are for. yesterday, at the wonderful funeral march for my friend john payne, i got the chance to talk to a friend that i have not spent much time with for some months. in telling him about the new things i am thinking and doing in ceramics, i mentioned "this machine kills fascists." he laughed at me... and called me pro-capitalist. continuing to laugh, he said that he was surprised at me, wanting to kill anyone..." sooo violent!" he mocked me. i choked. sputtering, i was unable to defend myself. it might have had something to do with the fact that there were several other friends present, i had an armful of four-year-old, and we were about to start a march across the haywood street bridge. sigh. i have just never been glib under pressure. it speaks well of my sincerity, but not so much for my intellect. at any rate, the thought that this provoked has fermented and bourne the following.
i love words. i always have. they are for me the first blush of creativity. new forms are created in my mouth before they are drawn on the page. if i can't describe it to myself, i can't do it. but, even more than their effect on my internal processes, i am fascinated by the effect that they have on the masses. any masses. all masses. think barack obama. kennedy. MLK. hitler. woody guthrie. all of their words moved tremendous numbers of people to action (for better or for worse.) if anything has been missing in my asheville experience to date, it has been a powerful, passionate discourse with my own work. don't get me wrong, i love my work. it speaks volumes to and about me. but where it fails is in speaking to the greater issues that move me. oppression of women and minorities (be they traditional minorities, or the the urban poor.) mechanization. job loss. war. nuclear proliferation. the manipulation of american culture and legislation by corporate factions. (okay. keep laughing. how much did that last tank of gas cost? how much high fructose corn syrup do you imbibe on a daily basis? why can more kids identify ronald mcdonald than george washington? why are wild fish not safe to eat? who is actually profiting from the wars in iraq and afghanistan?) in putting brief, powerful statements paired with striking/unexpected visuals on my pots, i risk being dismissed as the ceramic equivalent of a bumper sticker. could be. or, in juxtaposing phrases like "canary in a coalmine." with a raven sitting on a nuclear warhead, perhaps i am releasing into the viewer the visual equivalent of a brain worm. (that piece of song that gets stuck in your head.)it will squirm and rankle until the possessor exorcises it by learning more about the issue at hand. and perhaps acting.
and as for the violence inherent in, "this machine kills fascists," passionate speech is not peaceful. not in the sense in which i so long embraced peace and non-violence. my own ideals created in me a stagnancy and helplessness and bitter silence that cankered and chafed. so, now i speak. loudly. using words that i eschewed before as too harsh. but in the din of pop culture, i have to shout to hear myself. but yes, i will study the great peace makers, too, to relearn a vocabulary of peace that moves mountains.
lovepeace
heather

oncemoreintothebreachgoodfriends

(oooo, i hate that title glitch!)(harrumph.)
so today guthrie and i had our first culinary science class. he learned:
one quarter cup= 4 tablespoons,
one Tablespoon= 3 teaspoons,
how to grind flour,
why to grind flour,
how to combine water, yeast, and sweetener,
the origins of sorghum,
why yeast needs sugar,
how to knead dough by hand,
that kneading dough by hand is harder than it looks,
that a light bulb in the oven really makes it warm enough to rise dough,
how to punch down a risen ball of dough,
why to be gentle with dough when forming a loaf,
what egg white does for the top of a loaf,
why i spill water in the oven after putting in the bread,
how to divide a single drop into four parts,
how to curdle goat milk with microbial rennet and yoghurt culture,
and not to end a sentence with a preposition in front of his mother.
all valuable lessons that ended with two loaves of bread and half a gallon of milk on its way to chevre. and we'll do it all again next week! (or when the bread runs out.)
lovepeace
h

...

and then the dogs ate them.
damn it.
h.

flourpower

after several years of considering it, i finally bought a grain mill attachment for my kitchenaid. it is on its maiden voyage, grinding 6 cups of hard red winter wheat for my favorite oatmeal bread. my hopes are high, but my expectations are low. remembering years of doorstop loaves as i learned to bake edible bread, i figure that there is a learning curve here, too.
and so there is... i have ordered a cookbook on whole grain artisan breads. but this bread rose well and tastes good and has a crumb much like that of my good old oatmeal bread. sadie can't stop eating it. that is a good sign.
excelsior!
lovepeace
heather
ps. and it really isn't as dumpy as it looks. i forgot that my loaf pans take a pound and a half loaf. i should have tripled the recipe. (oops.still yummy.)

conversionexperience

yep. this is me. nose-deep in a sweet, succulent, o-so-fragrant little canteloupe from the city market.(i confess that i have forgotten which farm it came from.) the pony-tailed and bearded purveyor of deliciousness smelled their little belly-buttons and smiled knowingly. my years of hating melons would soon be over. as i walked home from the market with the basket on my head the prevailing breeze kept tickling my nose with the delicate perfume of sweet basil and baby melons. it brought to mind the almost pornographic enthusiasm for them shown by a peripheral character in the "toujour provence" books. living here makes me want to write food porn, too. of course, the moment sadie and i got home, we sliced up a juicy pale green orb. the flesh was... melon colored... and delectable. i even tried it with basil. ooooo.
next week: watermelon.

thankyouwoodyguthrie

THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS.
though originally woody guthrie's, this idea comes from sadie, who wrote this on her computer. whereas i am not sure that i agree with that entirely, i like her idea about communication and information making good old-fashioned fascism impossible. my own idea, however, is that corporations are the new american fascists. in the abused names of security and convenience we have allowed ourselves to be vastly separated from our real sources such as food, family, and community. if we take back control over our food supplies and means of production, opting for local and handmade sources over imported goods and engineered foodstuffs, we draw closer to our families and communities. food is not junk. your coffee mug is not a nameless cog in the machine. where did that coffee come from, anyway? as these things become objects of thought, there is a shift in the mindset. we sit down for dinner. we meet our neighbors and our farmers. it becomes easier to make decisions that are good for all of us and not just based on fear, speed, or what will buy us that mercedes benz.
(note: i am not really advocating killing anyone. not even dick cheney. but with their means of control eradicated, they can adapt or die. ideologically, anyway.)

happybirthdaytome

[yes, it is a little late. my birthday is still the 7th day of the 7th month, but michael (having been in honduras for a month) gets a dispensation.] isn't it lovely! this is the beautiful cedar and mahogany box that michael made for me. it is even more exquisite in person, especially as it is full of fascinating things that he found on the shores of honduras. there is a nautilus carved on the front, and the inside is segmented in the proportions of the fibonacci sequence. most wonderfully of all, he made it with his very own hands, learning most of the skills as he progressed with the help of folk he works with on the farm. it is a labor of love, and i am so proud of it. and him.
lovelovelovepeace
h.

new

this is a slight alteration of an old pitcher form that i like. it gives her some attitude. and a butt. art imitates life.

ahhh

this is one of the most beautiful teapots i have ever seen. i wish that i had made it... it is by the wonderful canadian potter cathi jefferson. sigh. such simple artistry and skill. this is your moment of zen.
lovepeace
h.