{"id":362,"date":"2021-06-10T21:40:09","date_gmt":"2021-06-11T01:40:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/?p=362"},"modified":"2021-06-10T21:40:09","modified_gmt":"2021-06-11T01:40:09","slug":"10-summer-summit-2021","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/2021\/06\/10\/10-summer-summit-2021\/","title":{"rendered":"#10 summer summit 2021"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Before I had the visual language for pots I loved the raw materials. If my father was still here he might tell you about the time I tried to wash the car with mud or the times we spent making pinch pots out of clay found by the beach in Montauk. He might tell you about how he encouraged me to make a glaze out of crushed Coke bottles and Elmers glue. These experiences are like stories from another age. When we cleared out my parents loft I went through their cabinet of pottery. I could recite the history of the pitcher from Mexico, the albarello from Italy, the blue and white bowl from China, and the George Ohr from Biloxi, Mississippi. My brothers knew my parents loved these things, but they sat on the shelves like obsolete trinkets from another age. These objects spoke of my material loves, a special language moving beyond the holes in my socks and into the wild stems and flowers we picked from the roadside and put in odd vases.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"920\" height=\"1024\" src=\"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21-920x1024.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-363\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21-920x1024.jpg 920w, https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21-270x300.jpg 270w, https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21-768x855.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21-1380x1536.jpg 1380w, https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21-1200x1335.jpg 1200w, https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/10-summer-summit-21.jpg 1438w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 920px) 100vw, 920px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">RELICS<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Before I knew words for it<br>I loved what was obsolete<br>crumpled at the foot of a closet<br>lost in the street<br>left out in the rain<br>in its wet story<br>from another age<br>in a language that was lost<br>like the holes in socks<br>I loved the rust with its steering wheel<br>in midair above the forbidden<br>chassis and the mouths of tunnels<br>the eyes of dust<br>no floor with its pedals<br>that I was never to touch<br>because all of it was<br>dangerous<br>and the touch of it<br>would never come off<br>though I could tell that no one<br>really believed that<br>as it stood there behind<br>the garage that had floated to us<br>like an ark from the days of horses<br>and I stood at the corner and listened<br><br>\u2013 W.S. Merwin, from\u00a0<em>The Moon Before Morning<\/em>, (Copper Canyon Press,\u00a02014). Copyright 2014 by W.S. Merwin. [<a href=\"https:\/\/merwinconservancy.org\/2021\/05\/relics-by-w-s-merwin\/\">LINK<\/a>]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Before I had the visual language for pots I loved the raw materials. If my father was still here he might tell you about the time I tried to wash the car with mud or the times we spent making pinch pots out of clay found by the beach in Montauk. He might tell you [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-362","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-onion-grass","category-solstice"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/362","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=362"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/362\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":364,"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/362\/revisions\/364"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=362"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=362"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.catherinewhite.com\/roughideas\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=362"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}