. . . My ego was bruised and my frustration with painting drove me to try my hand at clay. I signed up for ceramics, raku firing (whatever that was), under Marlene Jack in the Old Power Plant. When I first got there I felt like I had been sent to the island of misfit toys, but pretty soon it became clear we were the renegades, the outcasts of the Fine Arts Department. So I jumped in with both feet. Raku, it turns out, entailed dressing up in these space suit things pulling red hot pots out of 1,700 degree kilns and plopping them down into anything that would burn . . . needless to say, there was no turning back!"