Here is a picture of the potter's wheel I drove down to pick up in Blantyre. The wheelhead spins, although it is not level. I'm actually excited to see how the imprecise construction of the wheel will influence and shape the work I make on it. It is a single speed, unbelievably heavy, and unnecessarily ugly. I haven't used it yet; I'm waiting for a man at the college to come and grease it up--it's been sitting outside for almost four years, unused.
Marley's parents and brother and sister are coming on Saturday, and we cannot wait. It may be the most exciting thing to happen since we have been here. We still can't believe they're coming! Marley's parents will be bringing some of my pottery tools; my loving wife left all of them in Brookhaven the day we left for Africa. For some reason, I wasn't upset, and then, when we arrived, I really wasn't upset. I immediately realized that not having my pottery tools was the least of my problems.
School is going O.K. for the both of us. I'm preparing for the International Day Art Sale. Below is a picture of my "office" which existed from around October until November 16, 2008. You can see from the top of the tent that part of the frame which supports the tarp is broken, and no longer extends the tarp up and flat. Well, the rainy season began this past weekend, with two all-night rains. The rains collected in that cavity on the right side of the tarp and ultimately crushed the tent. I probably could have prevented it. So, I'm homeless and on the road again, and this space in between these classrooms looks sad and empty, the grass worn in two patches where I sat and prepared paper and paint and worked and read and drank coffee in between classes. All that remains are the pink and blue bookcases, and a few plastic buckets of clay. It sounds funny, but that really was my office and my classroom, and it is really discouraging to have lost it.
On the left you can see the cart that Gilbert Mdembo made for me. At least I still have my cart.
Marley's parents and brother and sister are coming on Saturday, and we cannot wait. It may be the most exciting thing to happen since we have been here. We still can't believe they're coming! Marley's parents will be bringing some of my pottery tools; my loving wife left all of them in Brookhaven the day we left for Africa. For some reason, I wasn't upset, and then, when we arrived, I really wasn't upset. I immediately realized that not having my pottery tools was the least of my problems.
School is going O.K. for the both of us. I'm preparing for the International Day Art Sale. Below is a picture of my "office" which existed from around October until November 16, 2008. You can see from the top of the tent that part of the frame which supports the tarp is broken, and no longer extends the tarp up and flat. Well, the rainy season began this past weekend, with two all-night rains. The rains collected in that cavity on the right side of the tarp and ultimately crushed the tent. I probably could have prevented it. So, I'm homeless and on the road again, and this space in between these classrooms looks sad and empty, the grass worn in two patches where I sat and prepared paper and paint and worked and read and drank coffee in between classes. All that remains are the pink and blue bookcases, and a few plastic buckets of clay. It sounds funny, but that really was my office and my classroom, and it is really discouraging to have lost it.
On the left you can see the cart that Gilbert Mdembo made for me. At least I still have my cart.
2 comments:
Thank you for the newsy postings and all the great pictures. You all may have a book in the making. I know you are SO excited about the Bradens visit. I pray that your time together will go by slowly and that it will exceed your expectations! :o)
I am so sorry that you have lost your classroom Bech! I hope that you find another special and useful space all your own soon. Is there an email address I can you (Marley) at? I want to tell you all the details and pick your brain--Ben proposed to me last night! :) love and prayers, Sarah Bear
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