Not so much any more, though it's still a good show. It's three days (plus one, if I set up Thursday) of driving an hour or more down-Cape and back every day, and with luck coming home with many fewer pots than I take with me.
I love making and firing pots. I hate retailing them. I am not a naturally sunny-dispositioned kind of guy. So three days of smiling and saying "Good morning" to people who walk into my tent out of aimless curiosity wears me out. And that's just in the morning. Saying "Good afternoon" always sounds to me like too many syllables. So after noon I go with "Hello," which seems inoffensive, attention-getting and - if I smile - relatively friendly. About a third of the time, people react as if I haven't spoken at all. Which is to say they don't react at all. I sometimes have to check my volume level and turn it up to 11.
Can you tell that I get cranky as I get closer to a show? Guilty. I do indeed. And before you ask, I do the shows in spite of my antipathy toward them because it gets the pots out there in front of people and brings in more money than if I waited here in the Falmouth countryside for visitors to show up. They usually don't.
All of this is to set up the photos of the glazing that's going on now in the studio. I'm trying to squeeze in one more firing next week so that I can have new pots for Chatham. Also, a lovely big teabowl came out of the last firing - layered in Shino and ash glazes - and I wanted to make a few more of those. And some brushworked Nuka cups. See, I love making these things.
Here are some photos, including the top one, a detail of a fired big jar with overlapped Shinos and ash glazes. The middle two pots have just been glazed. The fish at the bottom was a dry run before attacking pots.