Lamp

Lea Ann made the lamp, top to bottom.

It fuses two ancient technologies--pottery and fire--in one elegant sculptural form.

As far as criticism is concerned, I have none of this specific piece; it works for me as visual art and as a practical household appliance. I make it a practice not to criticize things I cannot make, and I could not have made this lamp.

I admire it even without its shade.

The light is ideal for taking on complicated texts I've been meaning to read or re-read, but have neglected. Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling comes to mind, as do The Cantos of E. Pound:

     The thought of what America would be like

     If the Classics had a wide circulation

                    Troubles my sleep

The trouble with reading of course is that it's as disquieting as light. I've never really understood Matisse saying that he hoped to make art one could contemplate in the peace of one's evening chair; I mean I understand it but am not in agreement. I don't like falling asleep with an open book in my hands. It's disorienting. When I wake I don't know where I am.

Gide said art is dense. I read this on the liner notes of a Miles Davis record I bought in the 1970's and it stuck with me. When you make something you want to make it well enough and to give it enough substance to make it worth someone's time.