Oh, the love and touch of a book, a magazine.
To rifle through the pages, one by one and gaze
At images that dance in front of my eyes.
A collection of texts from years that span forty,
A part of my toolbox, a beacon of knowledge.
Books are dear, revered for ages, and kept clean.
A magazine is the Now, appearing monthly,
A tool for learning.
Those magazines laid across clay spotted tables, strewn among students’ work.
A part of everyday, they were Used.
After decades, books and magazines possessed my studio.
No longer could I keep the mass, they had to be shared.
When I moved, they were fervently seized by loving hands, eager to scrutinize their pages.
They acquired new homes, and I was content.
However, I had no illusions- they were gone.
A new city, a new studio, a new life,
Filled me with the excitement of starting afresh.
Magazines again materialized in the mailbox,
With promises of the familiar.
And books once more created new stacks.
Now, in private sessions of feverous students,
Aglow with the excitement of clay,
Publications once more lay scattered across my table
Providing images, suppliers, and events,
Necessary substance for aspiring potters, sculptors, and enthusiasts.
How many new piles can I amass?
This studio is private, not that of a school’s dimension.
Consolidate! Glean the best from the lot.
How to choose? I will go electronic.
I never thought this day would come.
Yes, I bought CD’s, burning with images,
Cataloged for my needs, ready at the click of a finger.
But that screen! So small, so non-genuine, so flat.
How can I examine images this way?
Without haste, I plunged into the 21st century.
Oh, new computer, your dazzling screen enticing me,
Luring me, tempting me to stay.
You are beguiling; you are a magnet.
Your presence is pervasive, filling the abyss.
I am primed for you, this new instrument.
You are vast! Where gigabytes once reigned supreme,
Now terabytes fill the void.
What was once a mass, is now a bookmark,
Filled with the promise of years to come.
For now, the ceramic encounter is digital, a short URL away.
Books, magazines, sites and networking,
All share a life together, in the Cloud.
As I work in the studio, office and car,
On screens you dwell,
Waiting to inspire me, offering me wisdom.
Ahh, my space is finally free!