A few years ago, I was floundering a little bit. I was kind of overwhelmed. I was in the process of adopting my kids, but I hadn’t met them yet. I felt some pressure about a painting, and so I just started painting flounders. I guess you could say flounders became my spirit animal for a while, and entered my visual vocabulary. They still show up from time to time no matter what medium I am using to express myself.

Two days ago, I drew a bottle design with a stopper in my notebook. Yesterday I made it. This morning I trimmed the bottle. Today I worked out how I liked a flounder to lay across the fat little bottle. After work, I inscribed the design into the leather-hard clay, and left it to dry. It was all very satisfying.

Today my friend Lisa sent me a picture of a stuffed halibut at the local second hand store, so I went over there as quick as I could after work, sure that something like that would sell quickly.

I really didn’t need it. I had already made a life size flounder that lives on my bed. It’s quite friendly. When I get under the covers it likes to lay across my lap. It lets me rest my computer on it, and then it lies very still the way flounders do.

I made one for each of my kids’ beds, too.

Well, the halibut was still there, but I didn’t buy it. It wasn’t the sliminess or the smell of seaweed that put me off, it was just much smaller than I expected. I was disappointed, but happy to have been thought of. Instead, I bought something else I definitely didn’t need… two earthenware jugs. They matched a collection I already had. Don’t judge me. I’m judging myself enough for both of us.

I took several days off from throwing pots, because I was in the process of bisque firing the 70 or so pots that had been accumulating on the shelves in my studio. As soon as they came out of the kiln, I glazed most of them and they went right back in for their final firing. The rest are waiting for their turn. It was a nice break. I painted, and started to get to know the new pots. They transform, you know. You think you know someone…

After work yesterday, I found myself home alone. That’s unusual. So I threw a couple of pieces. A small bottle with a stopper, and a bowl. And so it starts up again. I was up early this morning, inscribing and trimming.

Every time I go through the process, I learn something new. I learn what worked. What I want to do again. There are so many variables, that it never happens quite the same. There is always a surprise.

Pottery has given me a new appreciation for acrylic painting… for the immediacy of it. You can just dip a brush into paint and apply it to a surface. It’s that quick. You don’t have to buy expensive equipment like a wheel or kiln. It’s not a long process. I think the two mediums go hand in hand. They complement each other.

I’ve been staring at this painting (only half of it is pictured here) for many months now. Maybe a year or more. It has gone through a lot of transitions, and every one has left me feeling dissatisfied. That is just fine. It just means we aren’t at the end yet.

The calculating… the projecting and judging part of my brain has to step aside and let the more playful side… play.

Like everything else in life, every brushstroke I make is subject to change. It doesn’t really change unless I catch it while it’s still wet. It gets painted over. Embedded in layers of paint, it is more secure than ever, even if no one sees the colors.

A friend once asked me what the scratching is about. I scratch into the paint with the back end of the paintbrush.

If I put a fresh color over a color that is incorporated into the colors around it, that new color looks like it’s been painted on top, or on the surface, which it has. Scratching through it anchors it visually to the paint that is under and around it.

This painting is a neighborhood, and I’d like for the neighbors to get along. I see a white house. I see a blue house with an attached garage. I see the sushi chef and church choir. I doubt you will see what I see. If you look, you may see things I missed.

It’s not done anyway. It sits on my easel and watches me make pots. It’s in no hurry.

That’s kind of nice.

The bowl shape was inspired by a neolithic bowl. I’m not sure where it was from, but I found it by doing a google search of “ancient Finnish pottery” or something like that. I hope it was from Finland, and I hope it was from near Lappi. In my mind, it was. The cup is a pretty basic cup form. I like seeing the throwing lines under the glaze. My friend Mike made this beautiful glaze, and he calls it Persimmon.

Indian Hills Elementary School, Romeo, Michigan. Grade 4.

Last summer, I made this little cup for my grandson. I decorated it by driving some of his toy trucks on the leather hard clay. After applying the glaze, I wiped much of it away, allowing it to catch in the impressions.