Clay Play Date
This blog is “One with Clay, Image and Text,” and my Hotmail address is onewithclay, and my username is onewithclay. PS. I like clay. You might, too, if you get your hands on some!
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One with Clay, Image and Text 
Dig it. I need to get back into drawing.
Prove it, Friend! 🙂
Good one. 🙂
The thing is I’m wondering for what purpose. I write, but you don’t visit my blog. 😦
If a tree falls in the woods and there is no one ther to hear it, does a squirrel still get squished?
Tsk tsk–I’ve not only visited your blog, I’ve commented…and, alas for the squirrel, yes. Perception does alter reality, but lack of perception usually doesn’t negate reality.
I know you did, Gary. But that was ten days ago, on my first posting — which by the way — I rewrote, persuant to the thesis of the post whereupon I used your caption titled, “Expectation, Meet Reality.”
Heh-heh.
Donald, I was tempted to answer with my limerick entry of three years ago, with the punchline “But what have you done for me lately?”, but instead I visited the fine Vincent van Gogh post, commented on it, and Shared your “Expectation, Meet Reality” post with my Facebook Friends. So THAT’S What I’ve Done For You Lately. 🙂
🙂 Okie dokie. Fair enough, I suppose. Anyway, I hope you stay in touch. You seem to live in a world remotely similar to mine. A rarity. and haha, not an insult. 😉
Oh, by the way, I used your caption for a post I wrote.
http://donaldmillersnotebook.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/expectation-meet-reality/
Thixotropic. A common property of clays and oil paint. You press, it resists, resists and then suddenly lets go. Is there such a thing as tactile memory? There must be; why else can I remember Suzanne Tremblay, who gave us a short pottery class more than thirty years ago? Of course, memory needs reinforcement, I remember going to her shop ‘Le pot de Terre’ in the early seventies, on my way to the public library. Finding out that my wife’s parents had a set of her tableware for everyday use, ans seeing her name under a plate. Finally, reading of her early death in the local newspaper. I remember I thought she was lovely, I can’t remember her face. But I remember the feeling of the clay….
In fact, potters claim that clay formed on the the potter’s wheel does “remember” what shape it took, and if it gets jostled a bit out of round, it self-corrects. And, yes, the feeling of clay stays with us all our lives…