Prairie: Traces gallery talk

Howdy. For those of you who missed it, here is the text from my gallery talk about Prairie: Traces, my latest piece. Yes, I am one of those people who writes out their entire speech! I’ll copy/paste it as it was written (to be delivered in person) so you can get the full experience. Hee hee!

If you want to see the piece first, please visit my vimeo page: https://vimeo.com/141752197. I’ve also posted a photo strip at the bottom of this entry.

If you would be so kind as to leave a comment or hit the “like” button below, I’d be forever grateful, as it will help with my final report for my grant. Thank you!

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Thank you for coming tonight. My name is Amy Uthus and I’m a local artist. I earned a BA from North Dakota State University in art and English in 2007. I attended graduate school at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, and I earned my Master of Fine Arts in ceramics in 2012.

I’ve shown widely across the United States and I’m grateful to Ted and Shari and the Wesley House for the opportunity to show Prairie: Traces here this fall!

I currently maintain an independent studio practice, making things and selling them, as well as teaching and doing private commissions. I have prior experience at a variety of studios; I was the Artist-in-Residence and Education Coordinator at RDG Dahlquist Art Studio here in Des Moines from 2012-2014. I’ve also been an International Student Resident at the International Ceramics Studio (Hungary), and an Artist-In-Residence at Guldagergaard International Ceramics Research Center (Denmark).

In 2014, I was awarded an Alumni Achievement Award for early career success from the North Dakota State University Alumni Association. Prairie: Traces was made possible in part by a grant from the Iowa Arts Council, a division of the Department of Cultural Affairs, and the National Endowment for the Arts.

Prairie: Traces is made of porcelain and steel. Porcelain is a white clay that is translucent when it’s thin. As you can see in the photos and in the actual piece here, light passes through the porcelain. Natural sunlight creates a different effect than halogen lighting. Sunlight creates a really crisp, focused circle, as well as the parabola of light across the top of the panels. Halogen lighting creates a fuzzier, wider circle and no parabola of light across the top. The piece was designed with natural light in mind. Ideally, this piece would sit in front of a large south-facing window.

However, we don’t have a south-facing window here, so I’m showing it with halogen lighting. The movement of the light is the same, though. I have the lamp hooked up to a telescope star tracker. The star tracker is a machine that rotates the light at the same speed of the earth’s rotation on its axis. Normally this machine would be used for astrophotography – you would attach a camera to it instead of a light, and then use it to follow the stars, taking really long exposures of things in outer space without getting streaks and blurs. So, if you watch the light tonight, it will travel slowly across the piece from left to right, just as it would facing south in the sunshine.

One of the most frequent questions I hear basically boils down to, “Why did you make this?” There are several ways I could answer that question. I’ll discuss the two reasons that seem the most important to me – the prairie, and time.

This piece contrasts unyielding steel and fragile porcelain while harnessing and focusing the natural elements of light and time. The fragility of porcelain and the unforgiving hardness of steel remind us of life on the prairie: a delicate, subtle beauty belying incredible natural dangers. By distilling light and time into a single entity, we are reminded of the major roles each play in life on the Plains.

Traces’ connection to the land is familiar to Iowans, who live surrounded by growth and sky. The shapes of the porcelain panels are reminiscent of aerial views of farmland, and the texture of the panels references flowing river water.

I photographed this piece out on the prairie. It’s the largest piece I’ve ever made, but in the photographs scale is tricky to decipher because the space is so open. I love vast spaces. They’re comforting to me deep inside. I assume other prairie-raised people feel the same, and one of my goals with this piece was to allow people in the heart of the city to escape to the plains momentarily, without ever leaving town.

I had the opportunity to study abroad in grad school. During that time, I met up with a friend from high school who was currently living in Germany, in Istanbul for a few days. One of the most compelling things I saw there was the impact of human touch upon the architecture.

This subject has made its way into a few different pieces now, but I keep revisiting it because it was so fascinating to me, a girl from ND, where we’re lucky if a building is one hundred years old. Some of the buildings in Istanbul are 1500 years old!

When you have a structure that’s that old, some parts of it are naturally going to start to fall into some sort of decay, no matter how good the upkeep is. What was curious to me, though, were the places where people have inadvertently caused the erosion. In those places, the degeneration of the building’s original form didn’t seem like a loss.

For example, when you pass a marble column and absently let your hand trail around its corner, you don’t usually think you’re leaving a mark.  But if thousands or hundreds of thousands of people over one and a half millennia do the exact same thing when they walk past that exact same column, all of those casual caresses add up.  The stone corner becomes soft, rounded and smoothed into a new shape by nothing stronger than human skin. We don’t usually think about a random touch here or there affecting anything.

When you stop to think about it, how many little actions do you do each day, that you think don’t have any effect on anything in the future? I know I routinely spend moments of my time on things that I think don’t, or can’t possibly, matter 5 minutes from now. But what about 5 days from now, or 5 years from now? Or 500 years from now? It’s hard to say if any of my absentminded or unconscious actions will be present in the future in any way, shape, or form. My second goal with Prairie: Traces was to get people to stop and think about time. To think about how we spend our time, and how our actions can unexpectedly affect the future. I decided to do this by making time visible, through the circle of light traversing across the porcelain.

Does anyone have any questions?

Prairie: Traces by Amy Uthus Porcelain, steel, sunlight, time. 7' x 7' x 24".

Prairie: Traces
by Amy Uthus
Porcelain, steel, sunlight, time.
7′ x 7′ x 24″.

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Please respond below. I like to hear responses to my work and ideas, even if they are different than my original intent. Thank you!

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This Friday in Des Moines – Public Art Reception for Prairie: Traces

Prairie: Traces by Amy Uthus Porcelain, steel, sunlight, time. 7' x 7' x 24".

Prairie: Traces
by Amy Uthus
Porcelain, steel, sunlight, time.
7′ x 7′ x 24″

You’re Invited!

Please join me this Friday, from 6-7:30PM, at the Wesley House – Drake University, for the unveiling of Prairie: Traces, my latest artwork. Standing seven feet high and nearly seven feet wide, the piece contrasts unyielding steel and fragile porcelain while harnessing and focusing the natural elements of light and time. A twist on the ancient sundial, I’m really excited about how it works and am thrilled to be able to share it with the Des Moines community.

The fragility of porcelain and the unforgiving hardness of steel remind us of life on the prairie: a delicate, subtle beauty belying incredible natural dangers. Distilling light and time into a single entity, we are unconsciously reminded of the roles each play in life on the Plains. Traces’ connection to the land is familiar to Iowans, who live surrounded by growth and sky.

You and your friends are invited to experience Prairie: Traces in person. Here are the details…
Wesley House Gallery
2718 University Ave.,
Des Moines, IA 50311
October 9-November 5
Opening reception: Friday, Oct. 9 from 6-7:30pm,
Artist talk: Thursday, Oct. 22 at 8:30pm
.
All events are free and open to the public.

This project is funded in part by the Iowa Arts Council, a division of the Department of Cultural Affairs, and the National Endowment for the Arts.

To see a video of Prairie: Traces in action, please visit this link to vimeo.

Sentinels Portfolio

Hello everyone! A quick update – I’m in the middle of my first big public art project, a suite of pieces for the Williston, ND, community library. The project is called the Sentinels Portfolio and it is comprised of 3 large ceramic vessels (each 40″ high and 26″ wide), two 24″ x 36″ color prairie and sentinel photographs, one 3′ x 6′ panoramic sky photograph, and the only weaving I’ve ever made – an 8′ high x 12′ long nature tapestry. Here are some photographs!

To watch a video on how the Sentinels (the clay vessels), please visit: http://amyuthus.com/606874/sentinel/

Untitled-4  Untitled-7Untitled-9Untitled-3  Untitled-5Untitled-1  Untitled-2

Studio News

Hello hello!

A quick update on how I’ve been occupied lately… (lots of photos at the end)…

Much of my time has been devoted to a project for a lovely local woman, Katie Geraty, and her company, Stone Bone Wood Cloth. For the past year and a half, Katie has hired me to design and fabricate prototypes of small porcelain bowls for her. The bowls are finally ready to launch, along with two other products (custom tassels and bracelets), and… not to be conceited, they are quite beautiful. 😉

Katie launched a Kickstarter campaign yesterday to get her business off and running. Click here to visit her page. It would be awesome if you were willing to help support her endeavor, because by supporting her you will be supporting local artists (me included!). She doesn’t mention this in the Kickstarter page, but did you know Katie was told she could have these bowls manufactured in China for pennies on the dollar? She chose instead to hire me to produce them, and she is paying me a very fair wage to do so. I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of business practice I can get behind. Creating these vessels for Katie has allowed me to keep pluggin’ away in my studio, and I’m grateful to her for the opportunity!

Here’s a synopsis of Stone Bone Wood Cloth:

“Our mission is to create beautiful objects, hand-made from stone, bone, wood or cloth that are as unique and individual as each of us; objects that remind us of who we are, or want to be. 

None of us really needs or wants more stuff…unless it has some personal meaning or resonance. At the SBWC website individuals will be able to go into a “workshop” and co-create an object that has personal meaning. Co-create means taking a base product – a vessel or a tassel – and adding elements that make it uniquely your own.”

Check our her page and make a donation today! If you’re not familiar with Kickstarter: You can remain anonymous during the donation process if you’d like. Donors can also choose from various rewards (bowls are some of the choices) and no donations are collected unless the project is fully funded within 31 days.

Some photos (of making the vessels, teaching, and other studio happenings). Click on any circle to open a photo viewer.

So you want to be a farmer… Part 2

I hope the anticipation has built appropriately for the remainder of my farming adventures.

Let’s start with a chat about Gary’s tractor. This is Gary’s tractor:IMG_5058

Looks cute, right? Gary (the daytime defoliator) loved Gary’s tractor. To clarify: my uncle is the owner of Gary’s tractor – I think it was the first tractor he ever purchased. He’s pretty proud of it. Despite this, I intensely disliked Gary’s tractor. Why? Well, one of the main reasons was that the lights in the back didn’t work very well, and I never felt like I could see what I was doing.

View from the back of the tractor at night:

image (5)

I also had to run Gary’s tractor really slowly, because its tiny little front wheels didn’t handle the deep sprinkler ruts very well (my other farmemy). Of course, the struggle against these mini crevasses had absolutely nothing to do with the operator of the tractor. Sprinkler ruts are from – what else – sprinklers that water the fields. If you haven’t seen them before, they’re basically really long arms that stick horizontally out of (and rotate around) a central fixed point. The arms have sprinklers hanging down every few yards, and they are supported by perpendicular rods that have wheels at the bottom. The sprinklers drive around in circles, like the hands on a clock. As they drive, their wheels cut grooves into the earth. The sprinklers save a lot of time irrigating the crops, but they can cause super deep ruts in the fields that make harvest more challenging.

IMG_5044 IMG_5043

Ruts that run horizontally across the rows are okayish to drive across. I usually just slowed down and bumped my way over and through them. It was when the ruts run parallel or almost parallel to the rows that I had the most trouble. Then you’re trying to stay on row, so the defoliator cuts the tops off properly, but you’re trying not to let any of your wheels fall into the rut, dragging all of your machinery out of place. Sometimes falling into the rut is inevitable, and then you just pray as you tip that you’re not going to break the PTO shaft for the third time.

Gary’s tractor has littler tires than mine, and I thought it was way harder to maneuver through the ruts. Here’s a picture of “my” tractor:

image (3)

Photo by Brandon

You’ll notice that my tractor is missing a tire in this picture. Yes, I did that… One night, I was driving my tractor and I kept getting error messages on my computer screen. So, I radioed Jerry, who was on the digger from 4pm-4am (my shift was 7pm-7am). The digger is the boss of the field, basically. Jerry said he’d come look at my tractor when I got in line with him across the field. So I drove for a little longer, through a bunch of rough ruts. Then Jerry came and looked at my tractor. We couldn’t find anything wrong with it, even after we turned it on and off, revved it up, and walked all the way around the whole machine.

Shortly before this, one of the truck drivers had hit Jerry’s digger, causing one of its side panels to fall off. This was a brand new digger, and they’re not cheap, so we picked up the panel and threw it on top of my defoliator. I was going to drive it over to the light post (a gas powered light that marked the approach into the field for the truck drivers) so nobody would accidentally run over it in the dark. Jerry, Denys, and I got the panel, which was very big and heavy, situated on top of my defoliator.

I started driving it over to the lamp post (about 75 meters away), and noticed I was having some trouble driving a straight line. Whatever. I thought the field was muddy or something. I had to steer really hard to the right, but I managed to get reasonably close to the lamp post. So then Denys (who had been driving the truck that hit the panel) met me and helped me lift it off the defoliator and carry it to the light.

As we turned back to the vehicles, I could tell he was feeling really bad about hitting the new digger, so I patted his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, Denys, everyone… what the [extra bad word], I don’t have a tire!” And I didn’t. I was missing my left rear tire (one of the big ones). No wonder my tractor was hard to steer. Needless to say, Denys instantly felt better.

I was super confused. So I radioed, “Jerry, I don’t have a tire.” There was a long silence. Again, “Jerry, I don’t have a tire on my tractor.” Finally, the response: “What?”

“I don’t have my left rear tire on my tractor. It’s gone.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Well, I’m looking right at it and there’s definitely no tire there.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know. Not anywhere around here.”

Long pause. “Is the rim there?”

“Yeah, I think so… that’s the metal part the tire sits on, right?”

I think he was still incredulous, but he told me to get his pickup truck and drive around the field til I found the tire. Ha! I still laugh when I think about the ridiculousness of that night. I drove around like a drunk for a while, purposely zigzaging to sweep the headlights across as much of the field as possible. I did find the tire, basically in the same spot as where I had been parked when Jerry and I were trying to figure out the error message.

I then called Jerry on my cell to tell him I found the tire. He wanted to know if the rim was inside of it. I said no. He didn’t believe me, so I jumped up and down on the tire and told him I did so… the tire bent in and out, which in my mind, it wouldn’t have done if there had been a rim in there. He still didn’t believe me so I stuck my hand in the tire. There was nothing there. Still disbelief so I had Denys get on the phone and confirm the lack of rim. Then he wanted to know if it was shredded. It wasn’t. I think he thought I was crazy at this point.

But he came over and the three of us lifted/shoved the tire onto the back of his truck. Then I drove it up to my tractor and plodded off to Gary’s tractor, sighing all the way, resigning myself to a long dark night with a heater that was either all on, blowing directly into my eyeballs, or all off. Gary’s tractor had a cab door I wasn’t strong enough to pull shut all the way, so I was constantly turning the heat on and off to try to balance the draft against hot dry eyes. My legs always felt like Jello when I was done with a shift on Gary’s tractor because the clutch was super hard to push. This night was no different. To top it off, the field had some of the deepest, muddiest ruts of any field I defoliated, and I managed to get Gary’s tractor stuck in one of them as the sun rose. I radioed for help and then just sat there, dejected and somewhat humiliated. Brandon came to the rescue. What a guy! Never made fun of me for somehow losing a tire on one tractor and then getting another one stuck.

Here’s the interior of Gary’s tractor (sorry, I somehow neglected to take pics of the interior of mine, it was Cadillacish in comparision, imagine computer controls and the like!):

Gary's tractor cab

IMG_5057

At any rate, I generally had a pretty good time pretending to be a farmer. And I was told that the tire was not my fault. I’m going to choose to believe that even though I seriously doubt I didn’t play a part. Ha! Apparently what happened was I hit a bad rut, lost the bead on the tire, and then when I started driving again, I hit another rut perfectly and basically just drove out of the tire. Jerry had a pretty good time taking pictures that night! I guess he’d never heard of such a thing, and he grew up on a sugar beet farm. My uncle didn’t seem to think it was that unusual.

I’m grateful I got the chance to work on the farm. It certainly changed how I think about all the food I see in the grocery store. That food doesn’t get there without a whole lot of hard work by a bunch of dedicated individuals and families. Next time you meet a farmer, thank them!

Because I was on the night shift, I got to see some pretty neat stuff. I’ll post some more pictures below, but I saw coyotes (they are not afraid of tractors in the slightest), deer, a porcupine, numerous beautiful sunsets and sunrises, and a lunar eclipse!

lunar eclipse

Lunar eclipse

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View from front of my tractor. You can see a set of 6 rows of defoliated but not yet dug beets on the right.

View from front of my tractor. You can see a set of 6 rows of defoliated but not yet dug beets on the right.

Sugar beet fields

Sugar beet fields

Digger

Digger. Photo by Brandon

Load 'em up!

Load ’em up! Photo by Brandon

Loaded sugar beet truck, off to the dump

Loaded sugar beet truck, off to the dump. This was shot inside my tractor – you can see the orange computer control board here.

Another view of my tractor :)

Another view of my tractor 🙂

So you want to be a farmer… (Part I)

This October I had the distinct pleasure of trying my hand at something totally new to me: farming. And when I say farming, I mean learning how to defoliate sugar beets, because that was the only part of the farming process in which I participated. Let me tell you, that one job was enough to give me a whole new appreciation for America’s farmers and those innocent little bags of sugar sitting on the grocery store’s shelves.

Where to begin? At the beginning would be good, I suppose…. ha! The anticipation running up to sugar beet harvest is high. The farmers and the veteran workers are all very excitable in the days leading up to the harvest. You can feel the energy humming in the air, hear it in their voices, and see it on their faces as they work. There’s quite a bit of prep to do before harvest starts. There are an incredible number of machines involved in the process, and all of those machines need to be tuned up before harvest begins. I was working for my uncle and cousins, who farm, amongst other crops, 800 acres of sugar beets. One acre is sort of close to the size of a football field (it’s not exact, but fairly close). So, that’s a lot of sugar beets!

Field of sugar beets. The tops are quite tall - they came up to my knees. (I'm 5'9")

Field of sugar beets. The tops are quite tall – they came up to my knees. (I’m 5’9″)

Sugar beets. They are white inside.

Sugar beets. They are white inside, not red like the beets you eat.

Back to the machines: to harvest sugar beets, you need at least two tractors – one to haul the defoliator and one to haul the digger. The defoliator cuts the tops off the beets and the digger digs them up. It’s helpful to have spare tractors, diggers, and defoliators around. You never know when something might happen. (A tire might unexpectedly fall off the machine you’re driving, for example. More about that later.) You also need a tractor on standby in the field to pull the trucks and semis out of the mud. They have a tendency to get stuck. I think my uncle/cousins have 10 or 11 trucks they use to haul the beets out of the field to the “dump,” aka processing plant.

Driving the trucks to the dump is the most dangerous part of harvest, I think. The trucks are very heavy when they’re loaded up, and they’re driven down lots of narrow dirt roads. These days they also have to share the road with oil tankers, who I’ve gathered are not the friendliest nor the safest drivers on the planet. Sometimes the beet trucks tip over. That happened to one of our guys this year. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

Photo by Brandon Hoffman

Capsized beet truck. Photo by Brandon H.

I spent the days leading up to harvest learning how to drive a tractor and cleaning tractors and trucks. When I first arrived, I was put in a tractor that was pulling a leveler. Basically, I was smoothing the ruts and clumps out of fields that had already been harvested (crops rotate fields, so the fields I leveled will have beets next year but this year they had beans or wheat or something else). So, I drove up and back, up and back, across the fields, and the leveler leveled away behind me. When I got back to the house, my aunt asked me what I’d been doing, and I couldn’t remember the word “leveler,” (I know, I know) so I told her I’d been ironing the fields. Which is basically what I was doing. Making them all flat and pretty. She got a good laugh out of my terminology, but she knew exactly what I was talking about!

photo

A field being leveled

The hardest part of learning to drive a tractor was learning how to back up with the implement. I have no experience backing up with boats or trailers or anything else, so that was tricky for me. It’s counter-intuitive, the way you have to turn the steering wheel to get the implement to turn properly behind you. My uncle ended up putting two stakes in the middle of an empty field. I spent some time practicing, backing up and pulling forward in between the stakes. That helped a lot. I think I’m going to have to help my dad with his boat next year! It’s a good skill to have and while it made me super frustrated when I was learning (and embarrassed, when other people were watching me!), I’m glad I learned it.

I almost forgot, in addition to learning how to drive a tractor and cleaning tractors and trucks (particularly their windows), I also got roped into cleaning out the MOST DISGUSTING trailer I’ve ever seen in my entire life. No joke. I still puke in my mouth a bit when I think about it. Backstory: so, because harvesting sugar beets (and probably any other crop, I imagine) is such a process, it involves hiring lots of people to help, mostly to drive those 10 trucks and all of the different tractors, which run 24/7 once harvest starts. All of these people need places to sleep. This year, there were two women workers: me, and Sarah. Luckily, I was family and so I got to stay in the house. Thank God. My cousin, John, bought a trailer that had been repo’ed, with the idea that Sarah would stay in it. (All of the men get crammed together in other places.) In theory, it was a nice idea. However…

This was the most mouse-infested dwelling I’d ever been in. It was like a mouse resort. A mouse haven. A mouse Disney World. I didn’t actually see any mice, but by the amount of droppings and the smell – Oh my gosh the SMELL – you’d think it was a paradise that every mouse on the planet had visited. I spent a few long hours one night vacuuming up those droppings and putting clean sheets on the bed. It looked better but it didn’t make a dent in the thick, piss-drenched stench. The next day I went back out there with hot bleach water and bleached the bejeezus out of the place. I used up all but about a tablespoon of my aunt’s bleach.

I thought I’d finished, but then I opened the oven. Apparently I’d forgotten to check it the night before. When I saw what was inside, I was tempted to just turn it on and burn the place down. The bottom half of the oven, up to the middle rack, was completely packed with shredded insulation and turds. All of the turds from the night before, from the entirety of the trailer, from all of its cupboards and hidey-holes, were probably only a quarter as many as what was packed into that oven. We’re talking turds on top of turds on top of turds here, folks. I vacuumed them all out (finding four – yes four – pot and skillet lids hidden in the near-impenetrable insulation-turd forest). Then I shut the oven door and put a note on the range telling Sarah not to use it. I was afraid she’d get mouse poisoning.

I asked her a week or so into the harvest what she thought of her living quarters, and she seemed pleased. This is despite the fact that she didn’t have running water or access to the toilet, which I flat-out refused to clean. I’m going to spare you the details regarding that little throne. Suffice to say, cleaning it would have had to commence with a shovel or big spoon. So, I guess the moral of the story is: what you don’t know can’t hurt you. I personally would not have been able to sleep one wink in there.

Back to harvest: Did you know that farmers don’t get to choose when to harvest the beets? Neither did I! It’s all under contract with the sugar processing plants. The plant tells you when you can start. It’s tied into the weather pretty heavily, as far as I could tell. Sugar beets have a long growing season, so you want to leave them in the ground as long as possible, but you don’t want them to freeze. My uncle’s farm is in North Dakota, did I mention that?

The younger guys were chomping at the bit to get going as soon as they were allowed. My uncle cautioned them to wait, as rain was forecast for the first day of harvest, and he didn’t want to start things off with a mudbath. The weather was pretty beautiful for the vast majority of harvest, actually. The week prior to the start we had a few days in the 90s. But the first week of October, it cooled off to the 60s and 70s. It dropped low enough at night to keep the temperature of the beets in the correct range. The internal temp of the beets needs to be above freezing, but below 55*F. I’m not entirely sure what happens if the beets are too hot; I think you can’t squeeze as much sugar out of them. We did have one day where it was too warm and harvesting got shut down (the dump stops accepting beets). That night, when it was cooler, it was too windy, and the dump stayed closed. Some of their equipment gets broken in high winds, apparently. And we had a few rain showers, which we sometimes waited out in the fields. Those fields turn to mud really quickly, though, and the trucks have a really hard time moving through them, particularly when they’re loaded down with beets. The dump also doesn’t like to collect beets when it’s wet, so they will often shut down during rain as well. So really, there’s a very small window of opportunity in which to actually harvest the durn things. It’s all part of the challenge, which my uncle claims is why sugar beets are the “most fun crop” to grow.

IMG_5017

Me in “my” tractor, pulling the defoliator.

Stayed tuned for the second half of “So you want to be a farmer…” where you will hear about tires mysteriously falling off of tractors, meet “Gary’s tractor,” have a good laugh, see lots of pictures, and of course, become more enlightened about how food gets to your table!

New Work!

Howdy!

I’ve been working hard on photographing a backlog of work from this summer. Here are a couple of finished images. I’m going to post a link on my facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Amy-Uthus-Artist/101902445002) when they’re all uploaded to my portfolio site. If you haven’t already “liked” my facebook page, doing so is the fastest way to stay up-to-date on all the latest news… and there are some big changes on the horizon!

Slip cast Dixie cup (sagger-fired porcelain), charred wood. 2014.

“Dixie”. Slip cast paper cup (sagger-fired porcelain), charred wood. 2014. Not yet for sale (is going to be entered in upcoming competitions.)

Untitled. Slip cast, sagger-fired porcelain and charred wood. 2014. $250.

Untitled. Slip cast, sagger-fired porcelain and charred wood. 2014. Not yet for sale.

"Impetus". Translucent porcelain boat (1 5/8"x 3/4"x 1/2"), charred wood. 2014. Not yet for sale.

“Impetus”. Translucent porcelain boat (1 5/8″x 3/4″x 1/2″), charred wood. 2014. Not yet for sale.

I was really hoping to get all the pictures done today, but I realized (after shooting all the pics, of course) that I had my white balance set incorrectly. So. I have to reshoot a bunch of them tomorrow morning, when the natural light comes back to my east-facing apartment. That means I get to live with this setup in my apartment for another night. Yippee!! 🙂

Stuff EVERYWHERE. Ugh. Clutter makes me feel like a crazy person!

Stuff EVERYWHERE. Ugh. Clutter makes me feel like a crazy person!