Ceramics

Two nights ago, Saturday night, after the experience with the tailor and the cloth-buying, I went chez Fatou Bintou (another student) to break the fast and eat dinner. Coincidentally, their next-door neighbors were throwing a HUGE Catholic wedding reception. Of course, during Ramadan it is not permissible to dance or really to listen to music at all. The whole point is to concentrate on God and to eliminate worldly distractions - to suffer mildly in order to understand the suffering of the prophets and of God himself (God is referred to as male in the Islamic faith). But who can resist some bumpin' jams. Much to the dismay and anger of a few of FaBintou's brothers, we simply couldn't prevent ourselves from shakin' our tail feathers to the loud music. Of course, the bride and groom (and much of their family) were Catholic and were not in observation of Ramadan. It was interesting to think about why one might prevent oneself from dancing or better why one might prevent oneself from listening to music. This is one aspect of the culture around which I cannot wrap my head.

As I previously explained, part of the cultural experience here is working with local artists and creating out own art under their guidance. Today was the first day that the group went to 'La Village des Arts' (or stayed at the school if they were doing batik). The village consists of three, maybe four rows of small studios in which local and international artists live and work. There is one community sink in the middle of the 'compound', so to speak, which is not only the clean up sink, but the ONLY water source for all the artists. During the day, the sun beats down on the tin roofs, creating little sauna-cells for in which the artists' and students' bodies roast like coffee beans. There are also plenty of mosquitos to go around. I was bitten no less than 30 times on my left foot alone. The Village is also home to hundreds of stray dogs and cats. None of these extreme conditions seems to bother the artists, who happily bound in and out of each others' studios throughout the day.

My group of three did ceramics. I forget the artist's name, but I shall ask him tomorrow. He, like many artists and craftspeople in Senegal, comes from a family of clayworkers. His brother actually lives and works as a ceramics-doer in Minnesota. His son was everpresent, helping to cut the clay, prop up the table and fetch sculpting water. 

Looking around the studio one could see a variety of different ceramics dishes, bowls and even a few sculptures. After two hours of working, our BASIC pots looked very rough. It was intimidating to look around the room and see a statue of a newly-wed couple, a pot whose skin resembled that of an alligator, a pot whose skin was en checkers, etc; then to not be overwhelmed by the talent in the room. Hopefully, by the end of the week our creations will more closely resemble those of the master. Today's made this goal seem unattainable. 

We will return to the Village every afternoon this week to perfect our crafts. Maybe tomorrow I will remember my camera so you can all see the wonders of the studio (and the crap-tastic pots, if they can be called that, we threw today!). 

Ba beneen yoon, inshallah!

Until next time...