Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Its a small clay world

Last week I made the trip from Portland, Oregon to the town of Cannon Beach on the coast. My purpose was to re-establish a presence on the coast as my current work involves octopi, and it seems like a natural fit.
Here I digress. When I was at California State University, Chico in the 70's one of my instructors, Vernon Patrick, participated in an exchange program. He went to Texas for a month or so. When he returned he said to me, "Your cousin says "HI"".
All that I could say was "What?".
Vernon said, "Your cousin Rob (McClurg) says "Hi"". Vernon went on to tell me that he stayed at my cousins place while he was in Texas on the exchange. The school was East Texas State, in the town of Commerce.
I had just gotten into clay the year before, and hadn't heard from Rob in years. It turned out that Rob had just gotten into clay at the same time that I had. What a flash!
Fast forward to last week.
While I was in the gallery that I had chosen to represent me, a customer asked the proprietor if it was alright to take some photos of some of the work. Of course, she was asked the purpose. The customer replied that she wanted to send them back home to friends in Michigan. She continued that normally she would be back there taking classes at Oxbow, but had some family business to take care of out here in Oregon. This caught my attention because cousin Rob has taught wheel throwing at Oxbow for years (yes, we stay in touch).
I said to her, "My cousin taught at Oxbow. His Name is Rob McClurg. Do you know him?"
It turns out that she has taken his course three times. She asked me if I knew why he wasn't teaching this year, and I explained what was happening in his life and what he and his wife, Donna Berrati, (also an artist) were up to.
As I left the gallery I was struck by what a small world it really is on this clay ball that zooms across the universe.

1 comment:

  1. Emilio, What a wonderful posting. It is a small world... and as my friend tells me, it's because we're all connected. These synchronicitous moments remind us of that. I've had moments like those, nof often, but when they happen, I feel less small. They are like unexpected gifts.