HOLLY ANHOLT

Pot

A FOURTH CENTURY GREEK KRATER arrived by messenger in Velden, courtesy of David Fürst. It was a joy for me just to see the crate. My life went on. My life had continuity. Work makes you free, that cruel old cliché again, exhibit A for the slipperiness of words. But work anchored, anyway. Even a little work anchored. It was, when I got the packing straps and bubble wrap off it, a disappointing pot. Three young men chasing a dog, but the faces of all three men were obliterated and the dog was little more than a stick figure. Still, I allowed myself what I always allowed myself with artifacts, a few moments in an otherness so profound it seemed to wake me from the world I came from.