As my family will attest, I cry at movies. Dramas, comedies, pirate flicks. Doesn't matter. At some point in a movie, I almost always cry. Words, on the other hand, hardly ever move me to tears.
Then my buddy Jean asked me to edit her artist's statement. Jean is the award-winning potter who crafted the gorgeous vessel you see here. In addition to being a potter, Jean is a teacher and a chef. I don't know that she would categorize herself as a writer. (Thus, the request for my editing prowess.) This is the copy she sent, the copy that made me cry:
"When I was a child I was fascinated with my father's polaroid camera. Watching the image emerge and slowly form out of a void was a mystical experience. The idea of being the subject of the photo and simultaneously being the audience to a photographic performance was thrilling but somewhat confusing. Almost frightening.
"I'm reminded of those feelings each time I watch the colors and shapes define themselves on a cooling pot. I had created those forms - coaxed them from a ball of clay, stretched and pulled them into a chosen shape. My hands had formed the profile and burnished the surface. But the fire had created its own performance and now I was the audience.
"Time and memory. Memories of specific moments; memories of what has been absorbed through cultural exposure; things forgotten but retrieved with a flash of recognition. Times ancient; time flowing like gasses across a porcelain surface; a time for control and a time to relinquish control to just watch and remember."
How incredibly beautiful and poetic. And you know what an editor should do with copy like that? Let it be. I made incredibly minor edits -- capped Polaroid, changed a few verb tenses. Jean loved the edits, so I'm sharing those as an example of how tiny changes can strengthen even incredible copy:
"When I was a child, I was fascinated with my father's Polaroid camera. Watching the image emerge and slowly form out of a void was a mystical experience. The idea of being the subject of the photo and simultaneously being the audience to a photographic performance was thrilling but somewhat confusing. Almost frightening.
"I'm reminded of those feelings each time I watch the colors and shapes define themselves on a cooling pot. I created those forms - coaxed them from a ball of clay, stretched and pulled them into a chosen shape. My hands formed the profile and burnished the surface. But the fire created its own performance and, again, I am the audience.
"Time and memory. Memories of specific moments; memories of what has been absorbed through cultural exposure; things forgotten but retrieved with a flash of recognition. Times ancient; time flowing like gasses across a porcelain surface; a time for control and a time to relinquish control. A time to watch and remember."
While Jean works on her web site, you don't need to wait to see/buy her work. Just send me an email and I'll pass it along: jan@sokoloffharness.com
P.S. Contest winner! Sandy, who posted a response on Facebook, will be the recipient of Cheryl's Cookies for the Cure Tower of Treats! Cheryl's is providing Sandy's prize, and provided two cookies for me as a sample. (Mmmmmm.) Thanks to Cheryl's and all who entered. And stay tuned! I have a few more giveaways up my sleeve, and then ... we'll be back to normal Fridays.
1 comment:
The words--and her work--are beautiful!
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