About Me
Pottery is a belief, a courage. I want to shine...
A child who loves playing with mud, alone, focused, free, and gained
When l was six years old, on a hot summer day in Wuzhen, l made my first piece of pottery. The warmclay slowly seeped out from between my fingers and gradually solidified into shape.l twisted my neckand grinned. A slanting ray of sunlight fell, and on my mud-stained little hand, l saw my own glazecolor for the first time..
lrregular rim,uneven glaze color, a uniquetemperament
In the pottery class, kneading the clay, shaping the clay, trimming the body, and glazing, time slipped through my fingers. l touched the clay, over and overagain, shaping circle after circle of self-perception.The clay is ancient and muddy. l have endowed it with countless postures and brand-new life,allowing it to fully become itself, graceful and peaceful.
Incomplete, mottled, and traces of kiln fire, the beauty of wood-burning
When I was sixteen, my father and I made a wood-fired kiln and fired my pottery with the kiln fire. We waited for the soil to dry up, for the fire to burn vigorously, and for the pottery to cool down. We waited day and night under the stars and moon, looking forward to the surprise after the fierce fire burned. Unfortunately, the kiln eventually blew up. There were only a few of the dozen or so pottery pieces left. Suddenly, I realized that the clay also has a stubborn temper like a little yellow ox.
