In-Depth #3

As time progresses, so does frustration. As clay pieces turn out nothing like how I imagine them, and just as quickly turn back into lumps of clay, I guess I have a few successes. At this stage, I’m still very much in the learning part of clay. I’m trying out new techniques, and practicing at every opportunity.

And I’m starting to see improvement in my hand-building.

Wheel throwing, on the other hand, has me stumped. I have only tried it a couple of times, because I don’t have my own wheel (unfortunately) and my mentor was out of town. On Sunday I will get to try my hand at it once more, but this is not as reassuring as one might think. To be honest, it makes me nervous. There are so many things I must remember and so many aspects that if I mess up one, I might be jeopardizing the entire piece.

Not that I don’t like a challenge, but for me personally, I like to be good at things. I like to practice on my own endlessly until I feel comfortable with it, and then show others. That’s my formula, that’s how I get through challenging activities. But with wheel throwing, I don’t have that opportunity. I have to try, and fail, right in front of my mentor. If I make a fool of myself, if I forget a crucial step and destroy the pot, then she has to see. Because there is no way for me to practice on my own. It’s then or never.

To show imperfection to others is a challenging idea. We like to believe that we are perfect, or if we don’t think we are, we like to think that such a state is possible.

It’s what I strive for, I don’t like the idea but I can’t help myself. I like to be good at things, and I wish I was perfect at something. As I dove into ceramics, this overwhelming desire got a bit cumbersome. Everything I did I looked at with a critical eye, even my very first pieces. Everything was not good enough.

As I sat on the stool, my mentor at my side, the lump of clay between my wet hands, this desire flooded my chest. I couldn’t mess up. It was my first pot, it needed to go well. But as I tried and tried to center the clay, it wouldn’t work. And as I tried to draw up the sides, it wouldn’t work. Even as I tried to shape my already mishapen little pot, it just wouldn’t work. It wasn’t very good.

Of course, the perfection-seeking side of me went into a little panic attack. Yet a different side of me felt proud. The pot was finished. Deformed and wobbly, of course, but also finished. And it was a first. And it had gone relatively well.

This side of me, I must admit, was rather small, and got squashed out pretty quickly. But I do remember the feeling of momentary pride as I sat back, my hands coated in a slimy layer of clay that was starting to dry around my wrists, and stared at the little pot.

It’s this mind-set I try to keep through clay, and I feel like if I learn it here, the ability to be satisfied with what I do, then maybe I can apply it to other aspects of my life. Because sure, it was only a fleeting moment, but as I progress through this work, I might be able to grab hold.

Here are a few pictures which I promised of currently un-fired, hand built pieces. Mainly they were practice for sculpting, or other various techniques including coiling and slab work. These will be fired, and I will post pictures of how they turn out in a couple of weeks. Two of my pots have been fired already, and are ready to be glazed. Stay tuned for updates on those.