This is my journal documenting an ongoing creative endeavor sustained by a single underlying current with 100 momentary breaks, each indicated by an individual porcelain cup which reveals both continuity and uniqueness in the way the pot is thrown, the handle is pulled and wrapped,
and the form is carved and sculpted. Each piece is photographed in its raw
porcelain clay state before being fired or glazed. If you would like to follow the progression from Cup #1, scroll down and click "Older Posts" or begin at the Blog Archive "2010", "March".

Visit my public archive forum on facebook: Julia Munn Livingston Pottery Archive.

The 100 Cups collection is available for exhibition.



Monday, November 29, 2010

Cup #54

A very small cup...and a very big handle that very early split apart and fell off the cup leaving a small remaining section which I then worked with to this more delicate result. The body of the cup is very much held at the base by the handle. The handle then becomes very busy curling around a seed, flowing up it's cup, and splitting into soft interconnected sections.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Cup #53...after....the transformation

Two hours (and a lot of trust) later. Simple flowing in which the cup becomes handle and the handle becomes cup....

Cup #53..before... (in the beginning...there was a very rough handle)

Here is the handle in the rough just after attachment. Notice the slip oozing out between the handle and the cup at the base...(slip is wet clay slurry that helps the handle stay attached through the contraction of drying and firing). I have to trust that if I pay good attention to the handle it will transform from clunky/ugly into fluid/beautiful. The pleasure comes in the transformation.
It's just a matter of time...

Friday, November 12, 2010

Cup #52

The handle flows from soft waves in the base...curls in confusion, undecidedly undulates up the cup and spills over the rim...two stretching open forms find safe places and join in...

Friday, November 5, 2010

Cup #51

The handle sweeps up from pulsating ridges in the base then spills over just as it reaches the rim...more tender places as my fingers find their way in the soft clay...