Kirk, 72, lives a sustainable lifestyle between Lake Manitoba and Lake Winnipeg, in central Canada, near the center of North America. Off the grid except for a small generator used to power his potter's wheel, Kirk fires his pottery in a kiln using wood. Cordwood heats his home in winter and brews his coffee too. What would ‘retiring’ mean to an artist, to his practice?
Kirk sits rolling a smoke. “You don’t want a retirement where you’re just sitting on the couch. That’s not sustainable. I don’t even know what retirement would be. I’m on a pension, but that means I can do my work without worrying.” Inhaling his afternoon smoke, he adds, “The path that you follow is sometimes due to circumstance, due to other choices before it, and whatnot.” I want Kirk to tell me what retirement, or not, means to him. If he had a large profitable estate, would he continue, or would he retire in the traditional sense and put his feet up? I push a little, “Is this where you found yourself, or is this where it led you?”
Grounded firmly, he replies, “I don’t long for another lifestyle, if that helps,” as he exhales. “People need pots, and I’m going to make them.”
“What’s ‘Good Pottery’?” I ask. There is a long pause. “Good is a combination of function and form, a nice well-defined form that works the way you hope it will. It’s nice also if it’s blessed in some way with a decoration. Not necessarily overworked, but some kind of little touch of the hand.”
He continues, “The original clay bowl is an extension of the hand. You can fill it with something and then give it to somebody else, and they can carry it with them, right?”
Why did you retire or why are you still working?
Why did you retire?
Why are you still working?
“I’m still working because I’m still able to work, I’m old enough that I have a tiny government pension which means I don’t have to worry about paying my bills. I live in a shack so I don’t have that many bills, and I just hope to get up every morning and go to work.”