Peter Maeder

Voyeur

Due: 2/23/19

               Her tie-dye shirt is speckled with brown clay as it continuously sprays against her. She loves her work; her hands speak for her as she caresses the spinning creation. She is undivided in focus, the conversation buzzes all about her and she scarcely gives notice, even as the others call for her. The clay begins to take shape beneath her hand as leans down to it as if to kiss, watching her hands as they massage and pull the image in her mind into reality. As she finishes the her first triangular bowl and cuts it off her face is one of pure satisfaction and fascination at what her mind had been able to bring to earth. As she strides away out of my view, I see that unlike most of her counterparts around the table she has left her space immaculate, taken care of and cleaned with compassion. A hear a laugh echo from the space she had just entered and look up once more to see a face of joy that seems to emanate happiness. Followed by a few more ceramicists she sits once more to her wheel still wet with the last hour of work.

               What will her next work be I can only imagine. I find it hard to accept that the same love goes in to each and every work although I know it must. The physical nature of this work as she kneads the clay and pulls it into shape continuously astonishes me and I cannot help but be in awe of her work.