A Night with David Lambert

When the phrase 'time and motion! comes to mind, my
thoughts invariably turn back to a night spent with David
in the early 60's. Unable to sleep, with part of my brood
out on the town, I had accepted an invitation to visit his
studio situated behind a small storefront on Fraser Street,
just south of 25th Avenue in Vancouver. His working hours

were midnight - six a.m.!

Parting the curtains in the doorway leading frem the
small, cluttered outer office, I stepped into that very
dusty, very crowded, yet very orderly workshop; walls
lined with shelves piled high with the grey ghosts of
other working nights - tankards, jugs and massive serving
platters.

On a stool in the far corner sat an equally dusty David,
facing seemingly endless pyramids of white mugs stacked
upside down, handles to the right as though blown by a
stiff wind off the port beam. Each had been carefully
banded in black slip by son Jeremy.

Watching in astonished fascination, I saw that man
work his way with rythmic precision through those hundreds
of mugs left hand out = mug righted - slowly turned as with
continuous freehand sgraffito there appeared that night a
‘whole family of ‘little stick' men in hunting, courting
and marriage, paternity, maternity and family dances.

As each new pyramid grew to completion, it was quietly
Whisked away by Jeremy for glazing and loading into the
still warm kiln. By four the room was cleared, kiln loaded
and burners on low - a true study in timed motion.

That night held a second lesson. David insisted I
breakfast with him at the all-night Fraser Street Cafe
across the way. We had our bacon and eggs with a pang of
rough, tough, bikers David had befriended. Voicing my
horror as we emerged to the bright summer dawn, I was told
they were all somebody's babies and "somewhere a mother
worries tonight."

So began my period of creative night worrying - another
night potter.

8 Jean MacKay Fahrni