pau 2

Bob Kingsmill and [ must have been
harmonically conversing. The majority of
my jotted notes for this column deale with
the idea of work and how we are connected
to it. So much of the ‘work” chat is done in
che first world is unconnected to any
meaningful satisfaction. Although [ suppose
that somewhere (perhaps in your very own
neighbourhoad) there exists thar employee
whe has found the Zen summation. of life in
flipping burgers.

Lhave worked at many different jobs over
the years, all of chem rather on che fringe.
I've made beds for a living, worked asa
waitress, bartended ( a couple of notable
stings in the Yukon and NWT}, sold are -
net my own, secretary, researcher, annoying
telemarketer, doctor's receptionist, phone
sex Operator, teacher, ice cream maker and
onandon... Some of chese fobs paid very
well, some fic my lifestyle perfectly (nothing
better than being a bartender ac a time
when one's main goal in life is to drink a loc
af scotch and hit a lot of parties}, bur none
of them provided me with anything close to
the amounc of satisfaction that working
with clay does,

Te stand up at ehe end of the day, stretch,
groan and look at the tangible resulcs of my
mind interacting with my hands is deeply
satisfying. We have a million year history as
makers, our busy littl opposing thumbs
flaking flint, whittling wood, weaving
baskecs and rolling and pounding clay.

[don’t think that pounding on our
keyboards fulfills our hands. Clay does.
But ic is a very hard ching to dedicate
oneself to it. Economic fear enters in
—will ] be able to sell my work, will I be
able to make a living at it? Ego fears are
another big barrier —['m not good
enough, [ have no talenc, galleries will
repeet me (and the demonic jurieswill be
snickering at my audacity at artempeing to
enter), Discipline is one of my biggest
bughears. As somebody said (my last
roomemate, in fact), “Showing up is 90%
of getting anything dene!" And [ have
hard time showing up at my studio when |
listen to my fears and dowbrs. It's much
easier to go out and get another pointless
job char will pay che bills and provide
some sort of temporal scrucoure co my life.
There are days, weeks even, when I think
that the smart thing to do would be to sell
all my equipment and forget about clay.
Get a ‘real! job, a collection of credic cards
and go to Hawaii for 2 weeks every year.

By che way, can you tell thar it is raining
yet again as | write this? It's hard to be
angstful on a sunny day. Obviously, I
haven't gotten a ‘real’ job, the banks
(even Mbanx with ics frisky new slogans}
won't give me credit cards and [ haven't
gone to Hawaii. Actually, thar last bic
sounds dammed appealing today. Which
sends my mind flittering off to my friends
who managed to honeymoon in Hawaii

: Potter’s Guild of B.C. Newsletter

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dunng that huye typhoon a few years
back. They were che only couple | know
whe actually get asked to show their
honeymoon shets by anyone whe isn't a
very close relacive. Bat | digress, as
always. Yes, galleries have rejected me
and others have accepted me, As to the
talent question, I'll never know, but if |
keep making work does it really marter to
me? The bad singers at Karoake clubs
often seem bo be the ones having the most
fun. My work does sell, but [ won't make
a living at it untess | put in ac least 8 hours
a day in che studio. Much the same as
with any other job, And it is odd to chink
that what many of us in the Guild call
work, others in the world call play, and
perform it as a leisure activity.

Among my wide circle of acquaintances 1s
aman whe started rock climbing as a
sport and now, a decade on, guides other
climbers for a living. We get silicosis, he
often gets sunburn on the inside of his
mouth from talking when glacier climbing.
Back to the topic now; almost everyone |
know who works in clay complains about
TRONCY, aNMoying Customers, Fepectign,
and other disturbances. And everyone |
know who works in clay can't chink of
anything else they'd rather be doing. So
there you have ic folks, clay wins
everytime!!!

Karen Opas

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