Most of What Helps Me Through the Tough Times I Learned at the Pottery Studio
Yes, it’s true. I confess to being a hobbyist potter. I know, some people think it’s a joke – remember the character “Fern” in the Animal House movie? Poor Fern; even though we never saw her, she was portrayed as naive, delicate, soft-spoken; “…she died in a tragic kiln accident.” The truth is that it’s hard for me to go a day without chunking off a piece of cool clay and slapping it down on a wheel head or into a slab roller. Those of you who know this feeling can relate – those of you who have never done it are missing a singularly satisfying experience. You can learn a lot from slinging mud.
1. Breathe.
Center first. Close your eyes and breathe, and you’ll find where you’re out of balance. Julie, a talented potter and PhD in veterinary research, specialized in large pieces. A group of us were working wordlessly one evening in the studio; with the occasional sound of water being squeezed out of sponges and wooden tools scraping against a wheel head. Julie chunked out her bag of clay; a twenty-five pound bag. She pounded it into a semi-round shape and banged it onto the huge bat on her wheel. She leaned in to start centering the clay. Every muscle in her body was concentrated on getting that monster centered. After about a two minutes, she sat up straight, eyes wide, and gasped a long, inhaled breath. Everyone looked up, startled, and she exclaimed matter-of-factly, “I forgot to breathe!” at which we all collapsed into gales of laughter. We’ve all been there; concentrating so hard we lose track of our breathing, our bodies, and our focus. Breathing is the most simple and powerful way to regain your purpose. Lean in and take a breath. Let it out, and begin. Keep your breathing steady, even as your instinct is to grit your teeth and tense up. Do you find when you tense up and start to fight the issue you’re dealing with, obstacles pop up and it’s difficult to get back to the point of what you’re doing? Keep it loose and keep breathing. Apply only as much pressure as you need, and don’t force it. A little laughter helps, too.
2. Be willing to start over.
Sometimes when you work hard on a chunk of clay, working it and nurturing it to make the piece you envision, some annoying law of physics kicks in and it collapses or breaks. It’s a frustrating feeling, but often the most unique pieces I’ve created have come out of these errors. One of my personal rules of clay is to make the best of what’s left. I’ve started pieces over, using the remnants of what was to create what will be, with skills I’ve acquired along the way. I’ve done this repeatedly, and have a basement full of pretty good functional pottery. It can be difficult to let go of the original vision and create something that has vestiges of the original vision. I’m currently looking for new work. It’s not an easy task, it isn’t the first time, and probably won’t be the last. Just like my clay work, I’ve had to start over, and this time is no different. I have the skill, talent and vision to create something new and exciting out of my experience, and I can form something not just practical, but extraordinary. Some different tactics may be required, but if you’re willing to start over, recognizing and utilizing your strengths, something wonderful may appear.
3. It doesn’t have to be perfect.
Another friend is a technically superb potter and a funny, smart woman. She reached a point in her skill level that far surpassed the rest of us. She made elegant bowls; thin and delicate. She agonized over her bowls by trimming them beautifully and burnishing the raw clay until the surfaces were like glass. One evening she spent close to three hours burnishing one bowl. She sat up and said with a laugh, “Somebody get me away from this bowl!” She realized she was honing the piece to perfection, when it was already perfect for what she wanted to create. From then on, whenever she was agonizing over a vessel, someone in the studio would pass by her and say, “Alice, step away from the bowl!” She got it – she knew that the piece was complete and it needed to move onto the next steps of firing and glazing. As exceptional women, we can get caught up in perfection and forget we’re fine as we are, whole and valuable. Perfection is fine, but our idiosyncrasies make us powerful people able to contribute to the life of the world. If you push too hard, your piece will collapse, spin off-center, or fly off the wheel. Same goes for the projects and people in your life – if you push too far to make them (or yourself) perfect, they can collapse in frustration, spin out of control, or disappear.
4. Offer your experience to others.
Having “potted” for many years, I’ve seen a number of aspiring potters drift in and out of sessions. It’s easy(and often preferable) to concentrate on your own work and get into a state of focused concentration. Occasionally though, it’s difficult not to offer some assistance if someone is struggling with a throwing technique. A new student was having this experience, and I couldn’t help myself from offering some encouraging words. She was trying to center a lump of clay far too large for her experience level. I wanted to help, but didn’t want to intrude on her experience. The clay was so large that her entire body was literally vibrating with the effort of centering it. I said, “You know, it may help you to take some of that clay off the wheel. You’ll be able to center it without so much effort.” She seemed relieved to have the advice. I spent the next two hours showing her a few throwing techniques and encouraging her to start small to gain experience. That seemed to be all she needed; for a first piece, she created a charming pitcher that she was very proud of. I was intent on working on a particular piece that day, but she said she needed the help and I was happy to offer what I could. Later in the year, I saw her doing the same – giving some advice to a new student. Offering encouragement takes no effort and ripples out in ways you’ll never know or imagine.
I made reference to the movie character “Fern.” I can tell you that hefting fifty pound boxes of clay and twenty pound kiln shelves around is no picnic and requires someone who’s willing to do the hard work to get a satisfying end result. I like to think that I’ll go out of this world a little wiser (and in better shape) than Fern; sitting at a clay wheel watching my lovely, wrinkled hands forming a new vessel and still learning that the clay on the wheel represents more than mud.
© 2009 Gaye Markley
Gaye is another potter who works also Mud Fire Clayworks
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