I Love Paris…

in the winter, when it drizzles. A friend sent me this link and I’m passing it on because it is really cool…

For all those photo geeks, this is supposedly the largest photograph (pixel-wise) ever taken weighing in at a whopping 26 gigabytes. Someone mentioned to me that there were legal problems because as you zoom in on the image the resolution consistently reveals more and more detail and they apparently had some problems getting permission from anyone who may have gotten “caught” in the picture (walking by a window or whatever). I’ve never been to Paris but I’m sure I would love Paris if I traveled there. I take that back, I have been to Paris only the one I’ve been to (many times) is Paris, Tennessee. I went to college in Murray, KY in the western part of the state. I had come south from NY state and in 1977 I was 19 and had already been drinking alcohol legally in NY for a year because the drinking age was 18 then. It was a different time back then and visiting prospective colleges never entered my mind (or anyone else’s in my little hometown). So the first time I visited Murray, KY was the day I got off the bus and had to register for class. Much to my chagrin and completely unbeknownst to me, Murray was in a dry county (it has since been voted wet)… hell, I never even heard of a dry county and that was simply my sad introduction to some of the backwoods, knuckledragging silliness I’ve come to not necessarily accept but definitely overlook now. I was stunned and resorted to hanging around fraternities simply to be able to drink beer… oh, the horror. So, due south on 641 was a town named Paris on the north Tenn. border which catered to the college’s drinking population… which is the same as saying the college’s population or better yet, the college’s mar1juana smoking population. Far be it from me to question the wisdom behind the prohibition which only promoted lots of kids driving 35 miles one way, buying alcohol, and driving back (and of course they all dutifully refrained from drinking until arriving safely on campus). The funniest personal Paris story was that a friend and I had recently both read “Lust For Life” by Irving Stone which is a biography of Van Gogh. Of course the thing that appealed to us most about this story of artists was the parts where Van Gogh and Gaugin would periodically drink themselves into a stupor imbibing absinthe. The book assumes that one already knows what absinthe is but alas we did not, save that it was an alcoholic drink. The link goes to wikipedia’s absinthe page but suffice to say that it’s a horrible tasting alcoholic beverage made from distilled wormwood and when made unsupervised like homebrewers do with beer today can be made in such a way as to cause hallucinations. Note that the “absinthe” being served in trendy taverns nowadays is not the absinthe that for so long has been illegal in the US. Anyway, we had no idea what it was and more importantly that it was illegal so we took a road trip to Paris to “get us some absinthe”. Imagine the scene as we entered the liquor store and asked the good ol’ boy running it where the abinthe was located. He was nonplussed but in the southern tradition tried hard to hide it and asked us a couple times to repeat ourselves as though we were probably just mispronouncing it… “a, sint?” “a, sint?” “what you talkin”, boy?”. Actually he reacted more like the waiter in the mexican restaurant when I had my little conversation about arcilla mojada. Needless to say, we didn’t purchase any absinthe and left with something more parochial. It was only later that we realized our mistake and the situation took on the hilarity with which I now view it. (To those under 30, this was the kind of fun you had when you didn’t have access to your online brain [g00gle or w1k1ped1a] doing all your thinking for you.) Sorry couldn’t resist. Now that I’ve mentioned a couple examples of my southern indoctrination, I must admit that when I realized I would be a dad and a dad that lives in KY and would raise our child in KY, it really never occurred to me that I would be raising a child that talks in a way that, as a native northerner, I’ve always associated with, well, let’s just say “goin’ around Kelly’s barn”. It started when the bug was 3 and somehow had already learned to make the word “hill” into a two syllable word… hee yul. Oh it was cute at the time but she has since taken on her Mom’s family’s habit of putting an “L” on the end of words that end in “aw”… draw is drawl and saw is sawl (it’s not lost on me that saying drawl incorrectly is ironic because it’s the drawl that makes it wrong). So as time goes by we all become a version of our own parents. Mine used to correct us incessantly because we learned in school (from other kids no doubt) to say “don’t got no” and they corrected us to say “don’t have any” about a million times. With sawl and drawl, I’m not up to a million but I’m also not making any headway as Sofia simply says back to me after I correct her, “I say it my own way”, which is a version of what she said the other night… “I’m gonna do everything that I want to do and nothing that I don’t want to do”. Hear, hear. The bug and I had a great weekend and here’s a collaborative “drawling” that we worked on…

I’ve stopped horsing around with the terra sig until I see a bisque and went back to throwing. I started throwing these altered bowls with tall feet the other day and I have no idea why…

I like this one with the split rim and maybe I’ll try to make some mugs or yunomis with the split rim, who knows…

I also like the tall foot like the bowl is on its own little plinth but it does require a bit more trimming…

Well, back at it.

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7 Responses to “I Love Paris…”

  1. ang Says:

    hey maybe you should drawl some of those lovely paris roof tops…check out the chimney pots…they’re everywhere, how cool!! ooooh and i do love a split rim…haven’t had the privilege of making any yet..one day

  2. ron Says:

    Really like those bowls w. the tall feet and altered rims. It’s easy to make a boring bowl, these are a few steps above all the bowls out there.

  3. Priscilla Mouritzen Says:

    Thanks for the link!
    Have you found the squirrel on the rooftop (the one with a lot of plants)? My son assures me it has been photoshopped in.
    We have been engrossed in the boulevards and rooftops this afternoon.

  4. Eugene Hon Says:

    It was great, took sometime to download, the view of Paris. Love the city spent three months there, had a studio close to the Island and the Marais – just up the road. It’s such a beautiful city with all the museums, the bars and restaurants including the countryside. Must get back there soon. It’s such a romantic city – thanks for the link – it’s like being in Paris in a Loft and my goodness – you can almost see into the apartments. Just imagine if someone was in a compromised position, it could have caused a bit of drama, I would say, and as you mentioned. Not that the French are shy …… mmmm You will love it Jim – it’s really fabulous

  5. Tracey Says:

    I went to college in a dry town too. We drove about 10 miles down the road to Randleman where there was a drive through beer store. Same in Boone NC where the students at Appalachian State drove over to Blowing Rock on icy mountain roads to the beer stores. More kids died on the roads to the beer stores than would have ever died walking to the corner market. Oh the wisdom of the south! I grew up in Myrtle Beach where I could walk in to a liquor store at 14 years old and buy a pint of vodka!

  6. carole epp Says:

    love those bowls!

  7. Michele Says:

    the only paris i have been to is paris, maine.
    i am a new englander transplanted to seagrove, nc… it’s STILL a dry town! i often wonder how the convenience stores stay in business here 😉

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