Hands Of Clay

“I don’t think this looks right.” These are words I utter every time I am in a class trying to learn how to do something. A group lesson has become as terrifying for me as public speaking is for many others. I don’t know what possessed me to sign up for a pottery class. It isn’t as though I have too much time on my hands or was bored. Although it seems to me any self respecting boomer who went to college in the seventies took at least one pottery class along the way. At the end of our first pottery class everyone had a pretty recognizable cylinder; I had a wet ball of clay. Comments from the instructor such as, “Feel the clay” or, “You can’t make the clay do what it doesn’t want to do” were not helpful. The lady at the wheel next to me had knocked out a ten inch pitcher while I was still trying to center my clay…don’t ask. I looked over at her in awe and forced her to admit she had taken this for an entire semester in college. Well given that amount of time, it is possible I could have made something at least resembling a cylinder. By the end of the class series I wasn’t a whole lot more proficient. I did have vessels that should command high process in some fancy gallery for their misshapen appearance….if I could convince someone I did them that way on purpose. Meanwhile, if you come to my house you will be served things in little tiny dishes instead of the big pots and bowls they started out to be. Pate anyone?


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