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eqqman: Da digs the clay straight from the ground. Soon we'll have nothing to walk on.
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eqqman: We compare the freshly dug clay to some of the finished product.
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eqqman: What looks like a mouse nest is actually paper pulp, to give the clay some oomph
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eqqman: Mixing up the clay, my da thinks, "I'm going to need a bigger bucket."
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eqqman: Da pours the wet clay into a plaster mold to let it set up
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eqqman: The clay has now dried enough to be useful for throwing. Da balls it up
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eqqman: A portion of earth has emerged from hiding. It has taken the shape of not a lump, but a potentiality of becoming a ceramic vessel
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eqqman: Throwing a pot does not mean ditching your weed when the cops appear
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eqqman: With the touch of a master's hands, a new pot begins to take shape
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eqqman: The hands move more gently now, as the pot nears completion
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eqqman: Do people still use fifty cent pieces?
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eqqman: The hole becomes bigger.
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eqqman: A slowly drying vase in foreground, a respirator behind
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eqqman: A few pots sit quietly drying as my Da loses his glasses again
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eqqman: Getting ready to paint a stripe
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eqqman: Lots of colors shown in brilliant monotone.
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eqqman: And the wheel goes round and round
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eqqman: With the pot upside down now and a paintbrush in hand, the wheel becomes a tool for decorating
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eqqman: He's talking about art or fishing or his shoulder
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eqqman: He's talking about baseball or politics or the Simpsons
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eqqman: Purify yourself with the strength of the fire
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eqqman: Like a mad chemist's lab, containers filled with different colored powders and liquids fill the shelves