Preview of things to come

Cold Springs Studio's new photography page.

Over the past few months as my recovery has progressed, I have had more than ample time for navel gazing. (funny thing: I currently have what looks like three navels... thanks to some of the holes that were drilled into my abdomen to remove the sutures a month ago.)

Upon reflection here is what I have found:

• Even if my recovery continues with no major setbacks, I will never regain the abdominal strength I used to have.
• Lifting things like boxes of clay or kiln shelves can cause herniation at the ostomy site.
• Herniation looks to be the bugbear under the bed for ostomates.
• The only tried-and-true solution to avoid herniation looks to be having a reversal surgery.
• That means at least two more major surgeries.

Given this scenario, my assumption that I can simply slide back into my life as a potter is simply erroneous. Sure, I can make pots, and in fact, I am trying to make pots everyday. But what used to be my warm-up time is now my total time in the mud for the day. Stamina apparently takes a long time to come back.

I have relied on my self-sufficiency, like all potters, for most of my life. My life has been built around the premise that brute force could surmount adversity. That simply isn't an option at this point. I can't just wrangle kiln shelves into the bottom of my kiln without injuring my ostomy site, never mind the potential for actually blowing a hernia through there as well. I can't lift glaze buckets the way I used to. Even simple things like moving a board full of pots and batts is out of the question. Too much abdominal muscle engagement.

So what to do ? :

• I may consider trying to bring on another apprentice when Hannah heads down to NC in a few months. Someone with the proverbial strong back/weak mind. I just have seen so little interest or discipline in this area. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
• Renovate/redo the studio so heavy things don't have to be moved for daily work.
• Find other aspects of my interests to pursue.

The last one there is the rub.

I have always had many interests that would qualify more as a profession and less as a hobby. I don't really know how to do the hobby thing. If I am interested in something, I dive in with both feet. In the past decade, this has been a rediscovery of my love for photography. After seeing the dearth of good photographers in the central NY area, I am encouraged. Maybe there's room for another aspiring photog. Then again, that was my feeling about setting up a pottery studio. If I have learned nothing else in the last decade, if you don't make work that fits within the stylistic needs/wants of your local clientèle, then you are forced to either ship work out or search high and low for ways to draw new customers in from far away. Neither is simple.

Which leaves me with massive questions about pursuing photography as a potentiality. Much in the same way that most of what I learned in grad school was learned AFTER leaving. There was so much that couldn't be taught in the classroom. That makes me wonder how do I begin the dive into photography so I don't make all the same mistakes and gaffes I made establishing my pottery studio? Ideas? Suggestions?

If anyone wants to check out my beginner's attempt at setting out my shingle, so to speak... check out our new website: Cold Springs Studio Photograhy

Ideas, critiques, etc., are always appreciated.

Back in the Studio

I feel like I should hang a Welcome Home sign across the studio. I have been wandering in and out of the studio for two months now, feeling like a stranger in my own home. Today I took five pounds of clay, measured out my lumps of mud for making mugs, and made pots. Never before, in the twenty one years I have been making pots, have I ever missed more than a few weeks of making pots. This time it was a little longer. Four months, almost to the day. Tons of muscle atrophy. Monstrous amounts of physical therapy. And the end result today was that I was able to throw my footed mugs again.

Sure, it hurt. Yep, it was wicked uncomfortable to have to work around this ostomy... BUT I could throw again!

Ask a hundred potters the hardest thing about being a potter, they'll all say being away from the clay. Mud is such an addictive material. I have been very patient and tried hard not to push too hard, but every day the studio has seemed less and less like my home. Today I felt welcomed home.

And with that, I welcome back all of our longtime patrons and friends. We are planning something VERY fun for the Spring. Get ready for some new fun pots! I still have a ways to go, but things are going to be fun!

Physical Therapy - Happy New Year

As a surprise, my sister and mom decided to come up and visit us for the New Year. I hadn't expected to see my mom till February. Bear in mind, I go to physical therapy no less than two times each week. While they were here, they REALLY wanted to go to PT with me so they could see what I was working on. Both Aurora and Maggie were kind enough to catch me in various states of frustration, awkwardness and pain. The upshot is that it reveals that I am improving.

Happy New Year everyone. Two Thousand Ten is gonna be a very different year for this family... and we're starting it off right!

How to know you're HOT

It has been four weeks since I left the hospital. During my six week stay in the ICU, I ran pretty constant fevers. You know you're hot when the hospital staff has to search high and low to find a fan big enough to cool your body down. Apparently I was always so hot that the fan became MY fan. It went everywhere I went. When I was moved to the short-stay surgical ward after the ICU, the fan came along too. When they came to bring me down to the rehab unit, they brought my fan too. The funny thing though... I never needed it again after arriving on the rehab floor.




It is hard to explain how devastating it was for me to be in the ICU. I am not even sure now how much that time has affected my life. Being confined to four walls for a month will make anyone stir-crazy. Add to that the incessant bells and alarms going off all hours of the day and night, and you get what is affectionately known as ICU Syndrome. When I was taken outdoors one day in October, the sky was brilliant blue, nice breeze and the trees were aflame with color. Just feeling the sun on my face and the wind on my skin was like being re-born. I felt alive and safe for the first time in what seemed like forever.




I have to come to realize that I spend a great deal of time out-of-doors each day. Whether that time is spent walking, hiking, running errands, gardening, moving stuff from the house to the studio.... all of it adds up to lots of time observing my surroundings. The sounds of birds, the pine trees overhead creaking or even the cars driving down our road, all are part of my daily life. Being cut off from those sounds drove me crazy. Even now, if the house is too quiet I have to open a window or door so I can hear things outside. Fortunately, I am able to find a way to be outside everyday now. I walk around the yard, meander to the studio and occasionally drive into town. Each time I head out the door, I smile, knowing that this is right. This is home. I am safe and sound in our little house. It is good to be back.

March of the Tin Potter

Today marks yet another Indian Summer day; overcast, but warm and enjoyable. I'm still waiting for that fall misty rain that always seems to mark November's arrival. Then again, anything that curtails my walks outdoors would definitely hinder my recovery.

I have found over the past few days that walking out on the road has gotten easier and I can go incrementally further. There is always pain; due mostly to lack of muscle tone and flexibility. It's as though I have the physique of an infant trapped in a 200# body. Really hard on the joints!


Aurora is watching Dune tonight. Things she noticed: the Fremen soldiers using the "weirding module" look much like I did with my trach tube in place. The guild navigators had tubes running from the back of their heads to their nose which apparently much like the O2 monitor that I wore in the ICU. That O2 monitor left a groove in my forehead. Aurora and Nancy said that grants me entry into the Dent Head Club. Now we all have dents!