Lime trumpet

Lime trumpet is the epitome of luck.
This piece came to life because I stumbled to find a collection of clay discard and saved it, hoping the the hole that was the trumpet shape would one day become a window of glaze. One day close to crunch time,  a hero stepped in and gave me some fibre for the glaze to fuse to,  instead of the shelf,  and thus I was able to mix and paint and set up the glazes so that they could mature in the kiln to a beautiful state. The colours are bright yet alerting- which I find good because it is quite fragile. The window required a very slow cooling, and what I allowed wasn't slow enough I observed from the slight crack.  But luckily, the day before the exhibition,  those was ready for show and it is proof that glaze is the feature and clay is the frame!
I even think that the hanging device is now a part of it, its industrial aesthetic contrasts subtly.

Everyone is special

I have come to the realisation, whilst twirling my hair and trying to sleep, that I have been ignoring the world in order to feel special.

I am not sure as yet if this is a bad thing.  To be specific and self-critical,  and I hope isn't offensive, I am not interested in current affairs,  unless directly going to affect me (thus Im selfish) , I am not interested in artists other than ones I encounter through chances of life (narrow minded), and I'm not interested in being rich. I have been isolating myself as if it were to make me concentrate. I understand the benefit of these interests allows oneself to be part of a community,  but it feels like such a chore!

To continue to scrutinise myself, I expect 'Poor middle class creative failures' often hope that the excuse of isolation will inevitably lead them to define them in their uniqueness. But in time, as I have discovered myself,  it leads to essentially losing your conviction. 

Shame really.

All those lonely poets,  upset that it's not quiet enough to think, need the noise to object to for subject matter.

But once you identify the need for chaos,  surely you can soak it up by the bucket  as soon as you go outside or look online. It would be easy to find something to become passionate about to build your life around,  right?

Perhaps,

It's like knowing you need a change,
So you go on a holiday,
Even though you really need a whole new job.

The disadvantages of being middle class have left me bare of conceptual, understandable passion. I don't care about causes that heckle me in the street just asmuch as I don't care when someone tells me I'm attractive. Issues solved with passion are the most moving and powerful,  and I wish I was a part of the greats,  but how can I be when I can only adopt an issue I didn't experience.

I do have passion, however.  I am passionate about inexplicable sensations,  about textures, colours and balances that sing. I just want to make it. I have made myself poor doing it, searching for the right sensation in a captured object.

Recently I have learned that if I stray too far from reality,  I lose the drive to make. Its because why make when I can just think it, especially if only me will see it. This is where dear blog comes in.... this platform acts as my window to the world, so that I'm not too far away from it. I can see it, it can see me. It's a two way street. Such a handy device,  the screen. 

My computer,  existing thanks to my middle class ness,  simultaneously is demotivating and encouraging. Everyone had the ability to do what I do, but because I can see that they aren't I am different and special.
Yet,
Everyone is special