Two artist homies from the ceramics studio holding a plate from my childhood that I am attempting to reproduce. As it does, it's working out a lil differently that I thought. Updates possible @nicacelly.
No need to recount all the booms and busts of summer 2022. We all know the horrors and joys: ecological, political, social. You are holding it all. We could close our eyes and pin any big sensation on the current landscape. There are enough dramas to choose from, right? Real, invented, imagined. You'd still steward it (at least for 31 days), how you do, in that great weave of Time…
SUMMER TIME. For real. That's you, boo.
What's been noticed this time around, July, is that you brought us home to the local, or at least away from the house for a hot second so we could enjoy it. Perspective is returning - from the flatter visions (squished, perhaps) of the last two years, to 3d spectral color. Thank you. As decentralized and outsourced as we've become, I suspect we are actually returning to each other. Literally. That in-person community vibe, so sweet - its saving us from digital abstraction. The pendulum swings. Feels good.
You'd be curious to know that yes, I am teaching a bit of yoga later this month - a donation class in town. Can you come?
Other news: I joined a local ceramics studio. A boon. It's got the greatest cross-section of folks, pollinating the kilns with their curiosity and creativity. None of us can get enough. They close Tuesdays and Wednesdays for classes, and you can feel the hunger to create when the doors reopen on Thursdays. Literally all we do in there is share technique and make things all day. It's a vibe. Of togetherness. That joy is not lost on any of us.
A business like that - a community ceramics studio - is not going to win millions in revenue, but it has become a critical component of happiness: priceless. In these days of late stage capitalism, it's a relief to see a business like this emerge and grow. Oh my… how subversive.
As we seemingly dissolve into the metaverse by choice, feast, or famine, for genius or imagination, let us remember that we are beings on this earth, and that we can and will continue to connect with each other as is our nature. Deep gratitude to those taking the risks to hold their communities with brick and mortar offerings where the human touch is paramount. We are moved.
It's been fun. Thank you for being a part of that, July, and see you next year:)