I have always wished I could learn to be a potter. I love collecting ceramics; it would be so fulfilling to create something lovely.
I like doing arts and crafts, so I would probably go to one of those fun little ceramic places and go paint some plates and do something fun like that
I am content to be a bric-a-bracker and a Ceramiker.
The very "marks" on the bottom of a piece of rare crockery are able to throw me into a gibbering ecstasy.
The wife picked out ceramic tile for floor covering, not realizing that cost was determined by square foot, not square yard like carpet. Thinking the price was plenty reasonable, she had an extra room of tile ordered for installation. When the bill arrived, it was staggering. She and her husband began a fight that continued all through the construction job. They ended up divorced, but not until she had broken every window.
All of the people in my building are insane. The guy above me designs synthetic hairballs for ceramic cats.
Then there were the shabti, magical figurines that were supposed to come to life when summoned. A few months ago, I’d fallen for a girl named Zia Rashid, who’d turned out to be a shabti. Falling in love for the first time had been hard enough. But when the girl you like turns out to be ceramic and cracks to pieces before your eyes—well, it gives “breaking your heart” a new meaning.
No, my friend. We are lunatics from the hospital up the highway, psycho-ceramics, the cracked pots of mankind. Would you like me to decipher a Rorschach for you?
I can see hope inside it." Rachel ran her fingers over the ceramic designs. "So fragile.
He’s being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven,” Thomas said. “I figured he couldn’t jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.” “That’s an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man,” I said. “I’m planning to start making a pie in front of him.” “Nice.” “Thank you.
Married pixy, I told myself, forcing my eyes back to the shelf of ceramic animals. Fifty-four kids. Beautiful wife, sweet as sugar, who would kill me in my sleep while apologizing for it.
The other day I started to take a course in psycho-ceramics. What is psycho-ceramics? It's the study of crackpots.
[Bernard Leach] talked about painting, but we never talked about ceramics in that evening. But at the end of the evening he said to us, "Well," he said, "I've changed my mind, and if you want, you can come back a year from now and apprentice in the workshop."
Ridiculous that some people feel superior to the gay minority. They're the only couples you'll ever find poking around for ceramics and candle holders in the winery gift shop and both parties really want to be there.
When I was in school in the Art Institute, we had several problems during the course of the time we were taking ceramic classes where we had to do a sculptural piece. And when I say a sculptural piece, it's nothing like what we conceive of now as a sculptural piece.
For me it's really important that the work here displays an aesthetic of decay along with the sunken boat with the broken ceramic pieces. They form a unity in showing the power of destruction, the beauty of destruction, whether it's from nature - because the boat has sunk - or through other forces. It's really the beauty of decay and death that holds a power here.
When I was incarcerated at Alderson in West Virginia for a five-month term, they had a ceramics class.
What I didn't know at the time [of my scholarship] was that the ceramic class was not really a very good class. This was many years ago and should not reflect on the conditions at the Art Institute of Chicago to this day, but we didn't know anything and we started to learn about how to work with clay.
The attractions of ceramics lie partly in its contradictions. It is both difficult and easy, with an element beyond our control. It is both extremely fragile and durable. Like 'Sumi' ink painting, it does not lend itself to erasures and indecision.
I do a lot of ceramics.
or simply:
