My name is Jock and I'm an artist.

He is an artist in Dashan Village, but I don't think anyone in my village understands art.

When I was a child, my friends were still playing in the mud in the field.

I'm already making all sorts of shapes out of the mud, even though they're a laughing stock in the eyes of my companions.

But I don't care at all.

When the volunteer teacher in the village accidentally mentioned that fire can make clay hard and form, my whole body was flickering.

At the end of the day, I took the little figure I pinched to the teacher's house.

When the volunteer teacher saw the clay figurine in my hand, his brows furrowed slightly.

But I still said happily, "Teacher, this thing will crack when it dries." Is it true that you said in class that you can be hardened with fire and no longer crack?"

The teacher smiled and said, "Otherwise, you can put down the things first, and the people will go home first." I'll show you tomorrow when I'm done?"

"But teacher, I want to learn. I said.

The teacher said helplessly: "It's time to cram for your art class a few times alone, your pinching is too ugly." ”

"But teacher, it's you who pinched it. I said.

On the same day, the teacher borrowed the stove of the neighbor's house next door.

And the villain was trimmed a little more, and the bubble bumps on the surface were squeezed out.

He lit a fire in front of me and put the clay figurine I pinched in, and then worked for four hours.

The teacher took out the little potter with a stick, let it cool and stuffed it into my hand.

I looked at the little potter in my hand and was speechless happily, while the teacher smiled and said, "Do you like this?"

I nodded excitedly and smiled.

The teacher thought about it and said, "Then you can find me for half an hour every night, and I will teach you some art things." ”

。。。。。。

The volunteer teacher stayed in our mountain village for three years.

According to the words of the volunteer teacher, in the past three years, everyone has been taught from illiterate to the level of Chinese.

And I was one of my teacher's favorite students.

The teacher taught me a lot individually, such as the angle of view and the golden ratio.

He also told me that there should be no bubbles when firing pottery.

And during the period, the teacher brought acrylic paint when he came home for the Chinese New Year.

"These pigments can color clay, but they only have a shelf life of five years. Don't leave the lid open when not in use, it will hard. The teacher said with a smile.

Before leaving, the teacher left me all the acrylic paint, but I always used it sparingly and cherished it very much.

I make more and more pottery and it looks better and better.

Children in other mountain villages went to work and farm at the age of 14 or 5.

And now I'm seventeen years old, still holding on to the dirt, and although my parents talk about me every day, they are never in a hurry to really let me work.

Because the things I make can really be sold for money, and it all starts with my father.

Every year, Dashan Village would go to the town to barter, and my father was one of the buyers.

A few years ago, my father tried to bring two of my pottery to the market, and when he came back, he was very happy with a blue bill in his hand.

I recognized it as fifty dollars, though there was no need for any money in the mountains.

My father smiled and said, "There is a group of tourists who visit the market, and they have seen the pottery for a long time. I immediately asked the price and wanted to buy it back, during which the two of them argued. The price went up and down, and I should have said it was a little more expensive. ”

I later learned that a tour party had a flat tire on the side of the road while passing by.

The tour guide took the traveler to a local market on a whim to relieve the boredom in the car.

And the traveler just fell in love with the pottery in front of his father who was bartering, and they bargained with each other.

In the end, he bought two for fifty-one, and my father bought a lot of things for fifty and other wealthier villages.

In the years that followed, my father changed his strategy and stopped bartering with the rest of the village.

Instead, he directly pulled the cart and went to a farther place with more than a dozen pieces of pottery.

It is a rest stop on the tourist route, and the daily buses will be in order there.

At this time, my father would pull a cart to sell pottery, and the money he earned would be used to buy supplies in the market.

In the beginning, the people from the server would come and chase after the father.

But after learning about his father over time, he felt sympathy when he learned that he had traveled thousands of miles.

And my father also started to change the annual sales to half a year.

Then it was once a month, and I was only required to have ten pottery items in a month.

It's too simple for me as a pottery enthusiast, but even if I cherish the use of acrylic paint. Several of the commonly used colors gradually bottomed out, and I had no choice but to talk to my father about it.

In the chat with my father, my father thought about going to the rest stop to know how to take a look.

My father asked the driver at the rest stop, and the driver agreed to bring him acrylic paint.

But the price offered was a little unacceptable, and the bus driver pointed to the price on the screen with his mobile phone, which startled his father.

More than 100 small cans of acrylic paint were presented in front of his father, and of course the bus driver smiled and said that he could use pottery as collateral.

When he said this, his father sensed that the bus driver was cheating on him, but he could not do anything but accept it.

Every month, my father took ten pieces of pottery to the rest stop and gave five pieces to the bus driver in exchange for acrylic paint.

After selling five pieces to travelers in exchange for banknotes, and then going to the bazaar to shop became his daily routine.

But this road is about 17 kilometers round trip, and my father, who is pulling the cart, can only do it by leaving early and returning late.

Finally, one day, my elderly father was tired and couldn't do it anymore, so he left this matter to me.

The first few times my father took me, I pulled a cart to sell.

Later, the third time, my father gave it to me.

When I came to the rest stop that day, I found the bus driver.

The bus driver said to me, "What about the old one?"

"My father? I'm going to have to do all of this, do you still have red acrylic paint?" I asked.

The bus driver entered the lounge and I watched him from the door.

I realized that he had taken out the acrylic paint from the cabinet, which was now full of piles.

This made me wonder, aren't these things expensive?

The driver came up to me, took two jars and said to me, "Two two hundred, or five pottery." ”

After reluctantly redeeming it again, I had a good chat with a customer at the time of sale.

He said that he was a student of the Academy of Fine Arts and was very interested in the pottery I made.

I immediately asked him about the price of acrylic paint.

When he opened an app called Taobao on his mobile phone, he let me see the real price of these acrylic paints.

When he I couldn't suppress my emotions, I immediately got up and ran to beat the driver.

The rest stop was pulled away from me and the driver, and I fell out with the whole rest stop.

When I got back, I cried and told my father the truth, and he angrily took a hoe and wanted to go to the rest stop to take revenge.

I stopped him, and my father was angry that he didn't sleep for a night.

The next day my father took out a small bag and said to me, "Son, go to the city." It may not really be a good place to be, where is the place to go. ”

I opened the bag, and it was a full ten sheets of one hundred.