Porcelain perfection
These are the books. In clay from. I'm making porcelain vessels. They have shifting round corners, as I haven't used a throwing wheel. Yet. But it's coming. Meanwhile, the whiteness of it all, the here and now that manifests like shards through fragments of memory, compels me. My first, small collection of hand built pieces out of French clay has been sent to the kiln. If the god of fire will be with me, I will make investments. In fire. I will get my own studio and sink into the utter, perfect beauty of my passion. The music in this short presentation is by Francois Couperin, Les barricades mysterieuses. I used the same fragment, though played at a much higher speed by Alexandre Tharaud, some 15 years ago, when I courted the frame drums in the exquisite company of Zohar Fresco. There I went to another round corner of the heaven. I don't want to say that so much depends on rhythm, timing, and momentum. And yet... The Childless Witch tells that story. Another fragmen...
