Rebecca Field Photography

Create

I hope and hope and hope that I will raise creative children.   I see my own creativity as essential to my soul and existence and I want to give them the same gift.  I want them to stop and stare at the sky as the clouds race by.  I want them to trip over their own shoes as they wonder about the cracks in the pavement.  I want them to pick up their straw wrappers as they wait for their food in a restaurant and twist them into interesting shapes.  I want them to make up songs in their head about everyday occurances like taking showers or brushing their teeth, to think of all the different uses for the buttons that they found at a yard sale, to say a word over and over until it doesn't sound like a word anymore.  I want them to be able to decorate their college apartments with orange crates and aluminum foil.  I want them to listen to the Carpenter's song "We've Only Just Begun" and start to tear up as they imagine themselves feeling that way about someone even though its the worst song in the universe.  I want them to sit and gaze into their coffee cups as they pour cream into their coffee and smile at the patterns they make.  I want them to find people to love who are different from them who make them see things for the first time, to make them examine things they have never thought about before.  I want them not just to think and think, but to wonder.  Is this too much to ask?  

I would also like them to learn and remember their manners...at least every once in a while.

I am thankful for

this...

and this (even the person who is screaming her head off)

I miss

I miss being in that studio.  I miss my inspirational teacher.  I miss spending all night throwing pots.  I miss the feeling of having no one depending on me but my artwork.  I miss being a part of a potter community- testing glazes, staying up for days firing the kiln, and watching the sparks fly out of the salt firing.  I miss waiting with intense excitement for the kiln to cool down enough to peak inside.  I miss feeling like my whole life is art.  I miss wearing overalls with clay all over me.  I miss my clay tools and my lucky glazing shirt.  I miss drinking tea in the studio while watching the rain pour down wondering how I would get home on my bike.  I miss college.  I want to go back.  Who's with me?

Tristan the Sweet

I met my new nephew last weekend.  He was a little bundle of sweet.