MY FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH CLAY

As a child, a connection was born while digging the local shale clay from a roadside vein with my father and sisters. With the shovel and hoe in hand, I remember the exhaust fumes and vibrating road under my small boots from passing cars. Together we selected choice clay, clean from stones and twigs, filling our buckets until we could no longer tote them.  We puttered home with smeared hands and minds full of ideas for the ensuing project.  Out of my play with this tacky, gray-blue substance, came the genesis of my future.