Rob Sieminski Ceramics + Painting

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Geyser Vent Pot /JK

Geyser Vent Pot
19in.H x 10in.W
Hybrid...Wood Fired Stoneware/ then 02
$2,500

a complex and eternally varied surface with encrustation and accumulation reminiscent
of mineral deposits on a vent or chimney...

Monday, August 21, 2017

Oval Bottle/ for JK

Oval Bottle w/ Dimpled Surface
and Firing Scar
22.5in.H x 15in.W x 10D
Wood Fired Stoneware
$2,800

during firing these pieces slumped on the wads, just being heavy and large... then tipped into the adjacent pot next to it on the shelf... the spot was ground down and filled with some gold leaf... these pots are very involved with the light in the room as it's changes... changing light changes the surface quality in a myriad of ways...it is fascinating to watch over time... tough to photograph though...

Studio Window

outside the studio window, now in mid, becoming late August...

Friday, August 18, 2017

Blind Men Crossing a Bridge

a day of mood and drizzle rain with fog surrounding
the morning was cleaning for yet another realtor visit...
when they come, I go into the lower yard
and sit on a swing bench and rock for comfort...
it's flanked by birch clumps I transplanted from the woods many years ago
I am surrounded...
if customers come... I am here, by the birches...

today..... I had an umbrella, to protect the book
I brought along... a small book of poems, for solace,
from my friend John,
I've read it many times...
when I moved here I believed in many things,
including that I would die here some day,
long into the future...
that too, seems an illusion now....
but as I opened the book
I remembered this poem by Robert W. King,
from "In The Empty Mountains"....
thanks again Robert...

First Afternoon In The Forest

There's a pine needle in my wine
and I'm delighted to say it
out loud, even alone. Feeling
an unknown in the warm cave
of my mouth, I pick it out
to announce this joy. I'm able
to drink wine, able to sit under a pine.

I will live here for years, drinking
dust in my wine, light rain in my wine,
and if I die outside, the glass
by my side, more dust will fall and fill,
more needles, pollen, a jay's blue feather,
yellow leaves will fall, and snow,
then summer, sunlight drifting down,
lichen erupting at the lip,
moss spreading it's little flowers

and finally the glass will be
like the rough hollow of a rock
as the body lying beside it,
broken and spilled, enters
the landscape, the world
filled up again with it's wine.