You know, I had been mulling over a new blog post about pots, again, when news of the Boston Marathon tragedy hit the airwaves. At first I thought here we go again, another senseless tragedy, and for what? And now, a day later, sitting down to think about a new post on pots, I read yet another story about tragedy, heroism, and the glue that makes people stick together in the most difficult of times. Stories of how people helped one another, and stories of how lives are indelibly changed forever. Senseless, for sure, and still heartwarming to hear and see the good emanate from strangers, family members, and so many others, in Boston and beyond, who will also find that day has changed them as well.
You see, it seems that while the person responsible has done something unimaginable to most, what we are now left with is the truth of humanity and real examples of what it means to be alive and to care for one another. Sure, it is indeed senseless, and the first reaction is to find the person responsible and make them pay the highest price for what they have done. But through it all I cannot let go of the feeling of warmth and caring I see on the streets of Boston. How people share the pain and care for strangers, doing all they can to help one another. I see more stories of caring and love than I do of revenge. The most recent story I saw in the NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/17/us/in-grisly-image-a-father-sees-his-son.html?smid=fb-share) made me want to weep, both out of the sorrow I felt for the victim as well as offerings of help from strangers who stepped up in such a dire circumstance.
So, today I initially want to say my thoughts are about neither pots nor art, but in some weird way, I think they still are. You see, for those of us making art every day, we only hope to connect to others and share parts of our lives that we hold dear. Lives that we know are fragile, and temporal. Sharing who we are through art, becoming vulnerable to our own human existence, and allowing it all to connect us to one another on the most human level is indeed a noble act. I want to say that nothing I have ever done compares to the noble acts of kindness and generosity I have seen on the streets of Boston, but if, in some small way, we can each share a moment of kindness and generosity to one another through what we do and say through our art work, it mutes the acts of a few determined to speak loudly through their negative actions toward others.
It is all so confusing to me, and I only wish I knew better what to say or think, but my most primal thoughts on yesterday's events are sure to remain with me as I go to the studio again to touch clay.
