#catherinewhite

[catherine-white]

Aperture vase 2026

Catherine White

Woodfired stoneware natural ash glaze

[catherine-white]

from a post I did in 2013

“Running into the new year I scanned back through the photos I took in 2012.  Images catch in my hair like strong fingers and memories of objects I have wanted to make since I was 16, 26, 36 and 46. It has been a year of revisiting ideas through bowls and plates. I am looking forward to 2013  and how it brings new twists turns to projects and ideas.” "i am running into a new year and the old years blow back like a wind that i catch in my hair like strong fingers like all my old promises and it will be hard to let go of what i said to myself about myself when i was sixteen and twenty six and thirtysix even thirtysix but i am running into a new year and i beg what i love and i leave to forgive me" -- Lucille Clifton

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#1 decembrace 2022

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A view into my studio.

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I spent the day harvesting pepper, basil, cherry tomatoes and flowers before the frost.

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now that summer is officially over I am closing my summer books. Here is a peek into my Heron Island Maine sketchbook. the ocean pages filtered through the shores of my fingers.

[catherine-white]

#9 decembrance 2018 Catherine White

The Shapes of Leaves Ginkgo, cottonwood, pin oak, sweet gum, tulip tree: our emotions resemble leaves and alive to their shapes we are nourished. Have you felt the expanse and contours of grief along the edges of a big Norway maple? Have you winced at the orange flare searing the curves of a curling dogwood? I have seen from the air logged islands, each with a network of branching gravel roads, and felt a moment of pure anger, aspen gold. I have seen sandhill cranes moving in an open field, a single white whooping crane in the flock. And I have traveled along the contours of leaves that have no name. Here where the air is wet and the light is cool, I feel what others are thinking and do not speak, I know pleasure in the veins of a sugar maple, I am living at the edge of a new leaf. --Arthur Sze  From The Redshifting Web: Poems 1970-1998, published by Copper Canyon Press, 1998.

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Catherine White # 20 summer series 2017

A writer's work is with the insubstantial word, the image that can only find its being in another's mind. We work with water, with the wind, we make and hold no thing at all. All we can ever shape or sing the tremor of an untouched string, a shift of shadows on the wall. --  Ursula K. Le Guin, from "Writers," Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 20012)