Although the website looks almost identical to its old self, I’ve substantially overhauled its gritty underbelly. I still rely on old-school tables to a large extent, but I’ve made the first serious transition into cascading style sheets. This should help give the site a bit more of a consistent look between updates. I’m also working on eliminating static html content — most of the content is now generated dynamically from database content. That too makes it easier to administrate.
The only potential glitch I can foresee is that I may lose some email over the next couple days. Not only did I redesign the website, I switched hosts as well so there may be times when mail sent to me winds up in some black hole never to be seen again. If I fail to answer an email sent to me within a couple days, please send it again.
I switched webhosts because my prior host had a lousy system for making site changes. I could use ftp, which I loathe because the password exchange occurs in clear text, i.e., anyone sitting on the network between me and the server could read my password. The other option was to use ssh (secure shell), but only from the cli (command line). The cli is fine for massive site-wide changes, but a real hassle when updating a handful of files in disparate locations.
From the cli, one must type out each location exactly correctly, with perfect punctuation and typographical elocution, and have no mistakes or errors. … OK, so that was a bit redundant, but so is typing the same 80 character string three times followed by the login password because of a teeny tiny typo.
In contrast, my file browser allows me to make ssh connections and then drag and drop files between my local and remote systems — a very convenient feature for making small changes. When I tried logging in via my browser to my old host, they banned me. I couldn’t even view my site for about a week. I was ______ ______ed off. My trials are over however — my new host gives me all the sweet candy goodness of real ssh access: the power to make massive changes from the cli, and the power to drag and drop little tweaks in my browser window.
I did very little today. First excuse: I had to work at my day job. Second: I just need a day of rest before I really launch into preparations. I did do a few things: received some more wood; made a half-hearted attempt at stacking wood; finished the process of making pavers out of my scrap clay.
I don’t regret it. My hands need a rest or they’ll be useless and clumsy. I don’t mean this metaphorically at all. It’s disturbing but I get strange pains, numbness, locking fingers and such if I too much gripping. Preparing firewood is pretty rough — I have to choose my forms of abuse carefully.
I find that throwing is not difficult, but of all things, I’ve recently become quite interested in pinch pots. Unlike wheel work, humble little kindergarten level pinch pots do take a toll. What I find interesting about pinch pots is how the surface of the clay breaks and cracks, particularly when expanded from the inside. The effect is quite pronounced when the clay has dried and hardened a bit.
The most natural thing to pinch is a cup and of all the things I can make, I love making cups the most. Cups are held in the hands — they’re inherently tactile pieces meant to be touched. This fits well with how I derive satisfaction from pottery. I care not so much how a piece looks, but how it feels (FN 1). Cups and bowls are amazingly sensuous. When clasping a wonderful cup in my hands, I get a sense of beauty that is wholly unrelated to appearance. With eyes closed, the sense of touch can evoke feelings of warmth and ease more evocative than any decoration. And when one’s mood calls for a point or thorn, a sharp edge to jag into fingers, why settle for mere image? An emotionally charged cup needn’t “speak” with clever designs or artful drawings — it emotes with a power predating imagery or grammar or language.
Pinch pots seem to have the potential to get to this “unevolved” emotive quality more readily than thrown objects. I have much to learn about pinching though — technical qualities that can interfere with tactile seeing such as weight and balance must be right, and I’m still working on those elements. The only real way to learn is to keep pinching, and painful fingers slow that learning.
I don’t mind procrastinating a little. I need to maintain my strength.
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1. I have no intent to denigrate painterly work. I have neither the skill nor the patience for such art and I respect people who surpass me. I’m merely stating my preference for a cup’s feel to its appearance. This is a personal preference not meant as a universal value judgment.
