You can tell when John's been busy throwing pots 'cause he gets hypnotized watching that wheel go 'round and 'round and then wanders over to his computer and posts something profound....

I don't think it really matters whether one learns one's craft by emulating master craftsmen or by striking out on one's one. Both paths are equally valid if one is truly serious about mastering one's art, and both will lead to failure if one is not. Learning from a master is supposed to give one a foundation upon which to build one's own art, but an uninspired or uncommitted artist can easily succumb to mere imitation, becoming a "clone" of his teacher. On the other hand, those who practice the "deep end" technique can easily confuse individuality with quality and wind up producing something that speaks to nobody but themselves. A true artist should have enough confidence in his own vision to be able to learn from others without compromising that vision, while also understanding that if he creates his art within some hyper-personal vacuum it may be out of the reach of any intended audience. In practical terms, that means it will never sell and he'd better get used to waiting tables.

In reality, though, I think most reasonably successful artists learn their craft by following a combination of the two paths. To exhibit at art fairs, as John and I do, is to be continually exposed to the work of others and one can't help but learn something from such heavy exposure. I regularly try out my own interpretations of ideas I've seen expressed by other artists, and not just other potters. I've stolen some great ideas from wood turners, but that's only fair since they hijacked their entire aesthestic from Ming Dynasty potters.

This past weekend I was set up at a show between a painter whose work was Van Gogh-inspired almost to the point of imitation, and a fellow ceramic artist whose work consisted of delicate porcelain tableaus mounted on white canvas. One was highly derivative, the other highly original, yet they both managed to sell a couple of expensive pieces.    Meanwhile, my wife and I were sandwiched between them wearing our arms out wrapping and bagging pots. Regurgitated Van Gogh is okay, but nobody ever seems to have enough gumbo mugs or sushi platters.

And as far as guitars go, among my dozen or so axes there's a very Martin-inspired Santa Cruz OM PW and a very non-traditional Wechter Pathmaker Elite. I like 'em both.

Oh, John, that well-respected musician who gave your buddy Jim crap about his guitar designs wouldn't have the initials D.G., would he?