Leaf Junky Celebrations

I wait impatiently for leaves to appear in the spring. Then I marvel at how prolifically they do that, while I fuss because the leaves are not yet large enough to impress me with their impressions on my clay! Soon they abound and, with abandon, I harvest leaves until fall. I prefer large ones with lots of pronounced veins. The real sign of my craving for natural foliage is that I dread the threat of running out of leaves. Every autumn I collect (some types before a frost, some after) all shapes and sizes of leaves and tuck them into old magazines, catalogs and newspapers, depending on the size of my quarry. I use an old drafting board I found in my father’s basement to weight the bursting tomes, making sure that the outside edges are open to the air. In no way does this compare with the hay mows we spent much of summer filling in my youth, but the outcome is the same. That corner of the studio’s drying room keeps me supplied with dry flat leaves for making pots all winter.

Now spring is well sprung and all manner of vegetation is back with gusto. Some folks are out looking for ramps or morel mushrooms, while I stalk especially large, fine-veined leaves. A primary source is the reviled burdock, for which I have absolutely no competition. Burdock leaves are big and leathery now, and the bugs have not got to them yet.  I use their bottom sides, where the veins are more strongly defined. I often have to cut out the center stem, because it is so thick that it will cut through the clay when I roll the leaf and clay together. Having become far more observant of leaf properties than I once was, I see that the size of a leaf and the intricacy of its veining often do not correlate, although some plants that grow very rapidly have surprisingly few veins, while other large leaves have incredible webs and tangles of veins that leave great trails in clay.

A pumpkin or a big metal bowl for form, a bunch of leaves, and a few pounds of clay—that’s what pots are made of! I love using light buff clay with my leaves. When the pots are dried, have been bisque fired, and are ready to glaze, I brush on a black undercoat and then wash most of it off. What’s left emphasizes those leafy tracks that I so admire. Then I put a clear glaze over the entire outside. Anything goes on the inside of pots: reds, greens, blues, yellow, or maybe mottled spice brown—or combinations. I owe those leaves, so I wait to see what they suggest.

 

Those Cute Little West Virginia Bears

I have a new favorite post card. It features a complacent- appearing black bear. He or she is quite authentic in appearance-- right down to having a few pine needles and bits of dry grass caught in his/her fur. The print accompanying this fine photo says: “Send more tourists to West Virginia. The last ones were delicious.” 

You may have to be a West Virginian to appreciate that, but it tickled me since no one I know believes anything larger than the occasional small animal likely to get eaten by a bear. Most of the year the bears here exist on berries and other vegetative goodies, given that there is not much water deep enough to provide nourishing fish. I love seeing the few bears we have around and we’ve never known them to come looking for trouble. On the other hand, bears are associated with our area and we capitalize on that. I often put their images on my pots, and I always put them on pots that celebrate the Lost River Valley.

Doug Gronholn, our store manager at Lost River ArtisansCooperative, is an ardent and creative crafter. Recently he volunteered ME to make bear ornaments for the yoga institute coming to town in June. Having taken my “Play in the Clay” class last year, Doug came and spent a whole day making bears with me—between 70 and 80 of them. We got them cleaned too, which was big job. Then they dried and were fired. A week later Doug returned and we glazed bears all day. Each one has LRV on it for the Lost River Valley. He’ll soon be back to help attach ribbons for hanging them. There will be an adequate supply of LRV bears to give one to each delicious tourist!

 

Critter cutters

I love animals. The older I get (and the years are accumulating impressively), the more I love animals. The beautiful red fox I watched traverse a snowy field this winter is happily fixed in my mind as a magnificent gift-- his or her lovely, bushy tail flowing along behind. The birds back this spring are all warmly welcomed, as are the rabbits and other creatures who never left. Although for reasons unknown rabbits are seldom seen right here in Lost Hollow, I often notice them by the cabin on the way out to the road. I am most likely to see the foxes around there too, as well as red-tailed hawks. That combination may not tell the story I would like, but such are the realities of nature.

Somehow a small catalog from a place called Fancy Flours arrived in my mailbox. Most catalogs get recycled upon arrival, but I am a baker and this one caught my eye. It has everything for decorating cakes and making candy, despite those being activities in which I do not engage beyond their simplest home-based forms. However, the little catalog also has molds and cutters to which I do relate

(squirrels, acorns, bunnies, foxes, owls). When I send an order in, I am sure some worker never guesses how I use their products—that is, for clay play. As much as I love animals, I am no artist. While drawing a fox in clay could result in massive misinterpretation, my cutters give them clarity and sometimes even personality. The same with the owls--the cutters turn them from birds of prey to cute.
 


I listened to owls in our woods all winter, and welcomed the return of the whip-poor-wills for some evening variation. The latter are creatures of mystery, indeed, not even having nests but laying their eggs on the ground and somehow migrating clear to Mexico or Central America while hardly ever being sighted. I grew up hearing them in New York, but I never saw one until my 69^th year when a whip-poor-will perched on the wall behind our house and sang and sang his or her distinctive mantra. Truly masters of camouflage, you will never see a whip-poor-will on my pots for it would be much too difficult to depict or discern. But those wonderfully visible foxes,  owls, rabbits, and many other creatures of the forest? Look for those and you will find!