Presumptions in Detriot

I didn’t accidentally misspell it as DetRiot. I was speaking to the particular type of lawlessness in which I take part: urban farming. I was not speaking to race wars. I did not mean it as a token of survival for those on ruin tours. And no, I did not just make a mistake. Guh.

Eastern Market is now open on Tuesdays. I’m there most weeks. Give me your cash money so I may continue my oh-so-worthwhile endeavors.

Recently, while browsing my booth, a woman explained to me that she is an artist, too. Except, unlike me, she is a real artist because she only does it when it comes to her. I love this formula: I am a real [job title] because I only [primary job function] when [I really want to].

For the sake of argument, I’ll gladly grant that the whole Eastern Market thing is me having gone crafter.

I’ve been filling the blanks with various titles and functions, and I’ve decided that the only other one who could get away with saying it is a student. A person can be a real student and only study when she feels the need.

I used to be a real taxi driver, and I picked up fairs even when I was not deeply inspired. I used to be a lender, and I reviewed loans regardless of whether I was particularly moved. Somehow, though, I am not a real artist when I get up at 4am to start my kiln.

When people say stuff like this, I am grateful for the parkinsonian delay in my response. My brain fires off a million responses but my face and mouth do nothing.

Speaking of the Parkinsonism: I’ve been capable of transporting what is in my mind out into reality fairly successfully lately. If you really want to get into it, check out some of the research on creative and emotive skills of people who have aphasia. If not, just take my word that the process from pattern to product involves a great deal of modification. I have a new AMAZING granola recipe. I am also knitting an octopus inspired by the blabla knit toys. I plan to make as many of these toys as I can and sell them for way expensive.

Bad news, though! I scratched my cornea. The experience is less awesome than traipsing about the Badlands nude. Because my vision is already so compromised, I thought I had relinquished a great deal of dependence. As it turns out, large print and text to audio do nothing when it comes to the glint of light coming through the window at the top of the staircase. The light from my husband’s computer screen was more than I could really handle.

I’ve had to take a break from pretty much everything, but I’m still on track in terms of firing.

As I’ve written before, my kiln is getting too small. It is three cubic feet. I am doing a cycle of bisque and glaze firing every four weeks. Having the product turnover is nice, but the inability to fire more than one large piece per batch is downright obnoxious. I am currently in search of a larger kiln. My husband and I are evaluating whether it would make sense to erect an outbuilding. I’m looking in to kickstarter projects.

I have a cute picture of Lucia that I will post soon. She is awesome.




In summary:
1. Starting on August 5th, you can buy magnets that have Detroit spelled correctly.
2 Detroit Eastern Market is now open on Tuesdays from 11am until 4pm.
3. This whole pretend-artist gig is a racket.
4. I make awesome granola and knit goodies.
5. I am human and have needs. One of those needs is money.