Pushing the

Boundaries of Fragility
Rebecca Robbins: 1969-2007

I first got to know Rebecca tn October 2000, when we both participated
in a ceramics residency in Puebla, Mexico. Newly graduated from
ECIAD, a first solo show (at Portfolio Gallery) under her belt, and six
months pregnant with her first son Sol, I was amazed by the energy she
had to keep up with the schedule of daily work in the studio, nightly
social activities and weekend excursions. Her approach to her clay work
always came from a perspective of joyfulness and curiosity about the
world around her. The body of her work 1s eclectic. She was unafraid
to pursue a quirky tangent of thought, always pushing the boundaries
of fragility.

For the last five years, I was fortunate to share a workspace with her. She
juggled her family life, a part-time job at the library and studio time with
equanimity. After Louis was born in 2004, an old-fashioned pram and a
playpen became part of the studio furniture. She worked so deftly with clay
that a figure or vase could be built in a few short hours, while her baby napped.
Saturdays were our regular day together in the studio. During those hours the
conversation flowed; books, movies, music, art, but mostly we talked about
people—our kids, our partners, our mothers and mothers-in law, and friends.
Rebecca had a huge circle of friends, from her Victoria days, from art school,
from the library and the playground and every year during the Culture Crawl
they would come by to visit and admire her new work. Every year too, more
people discovered her work, and began to collect it.

Rebecca’s cancer diagnosis came last summer, just after she returned from
a scholarship-funded workshop at Anderson Ranch, where she explored and
developed her latest interest, printmaking and image transfer on clay. For
months, while she underwent treatment, her new bisque-ware sat in the studio.
For a period in the fall she seemed to rally, and as her strength returned, she
finished the new work she had been so excited about.

Rebecca died at home, on Sunday morning, Feb. 4, surrounded by her
family. That evening at my son’s bedtime, we read a newly-acquired library
book, a re-telling of the folk tale John Henry. John Henry dies after beating
the steam drill in a contest to cut a tunnel through the mountain. At the
moment of his death, the people watching all have the same “knowing’—
“Dying ain't important. Everybody does that. What matters is how well
you do your living.” I felt Rebecca smiling at me from somewhere beyond.

We miss you my beautiful friend Fredi Rahn

POTTERS

GUILD
ot BRITISH
COLUMBIA

Two Figures (Youth)

Rebecca and Sol, 2005