In 1819 Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote, “the mist of familiarity obscures from us the wonder of our being.”
Is the role of the artist to commit themselves to peering through the mist and to re-present the familiar in a way that rekindles wonder?
In 1819 Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote, “the mist of familiarity obscures from us the wonder of our being.”
Is the role of the artist to commit themselves to peering through the mist and to re-present the familiar in a way that rekindles wonder?
When I was scraping the outside of my first coil pot with an old veneer saw blade to break up
The mixture of matt and shiny white glazes and the way they interact reminded me very much of the birch