2 posts tagged “clay”
One of the hardest, and most basic things to do in wheel thrown pottery, is centering a ball of clay on the wheel. Watching others do it, it seems so simple...but when trying to give or receive instruction on how to do it, you begin to understand how intuitive the process truly is.
I think life is very much like centering that ball of clay on the wheel. I remember when I was first learning, I watched my instructor quickly cut off 2 lbs of clay from her block, weld it to remove any air pockets and to evenly distribute the moisture through her piece and then beat it into a basic cone shape. She took the cone, slapped it on the wheel and in what felt like seconds, moved and guided it to position, centered perfectly.
All very simple to do until I took the clay in my own hands and tried to repeat the action. It was a lesson in gravity, centrifugal force and pressure. Slap a piece of clay on the center of a wheel, and put that wheel in motion, it becomes a battle of wills. The clay wills itself absolutely anywhere the rhythm of the wheel and it's speed pull it. It's up to you to reign it in and guide it to perfect center. The magical element of it, is once a piece is centered perfectly, it stills. Even at incredible wheel speed, it remains locked and poised and cradled unmoving in the palm of your hand. You feel it, the instant it happens. No wobbling, no pulling, no bumping or leaning.
It's one of the hardest things to teach, because so much of centering relies on the hands, positioning and pressure from the body guiding the clay. I'm left handed. My instructor is right handed. Her hand positions, even to this day, are slightly different than mine. Her technique, while perfect for her, felt foreign to me. As we wrestled with technique and form, she finally reminded me that I would need to find the position most comfortable and right for me. And she said I'd know it immediately because the clay would respond and snap immediately into place. Like magic.
I learned to love centering clay as an exercise. And there are still some days in the studio where it will be the hardest thing for me to do. The moment I start overthinking it, I struggle. The moment I get lax in my own hand positioning, or pressure, the clay wobbles and flails heavily against me.
Don't let the clay work you, you work the clay.
It's what I remind myself when I feel three pounds of clay throw my arms and chest about as the wheel spins. I lock in, find my position and hold it, until the clay concedes. It always concedes. Each time that happens, it is a personal triumph to me. It's a gentle reminder that life is very much the same process. Finding the approach, the technique, the pressure, the patience and the faith. Knowing the best approach to life's challenges. Practicing the technique that feels most comfortable and natural to you, applying the appropriate pressure with the patience to know it may take a moment...with the faith to know that if all those keys are in place, your existence has no choice but to concede. Even with bumps. Even with air pockets, even with lumps. It will eventually, concede.
As with anything, you are lost if you are unable to intuit your way through the exercise. No one can teach you that, but at least you know you have it to rely on if you have the wisdom to acknowledge it.
I suppose that's why I love pottery the way I do. It brings me back to fundamental basics. It reminds me that somethings are very basic. It's our approach that determines the outcome. In the studio, I am able to pick up some pieces and make sense of them not so much with logic, but in just feeling my way through the process.
Too much pressure can turn a masterpiece into a mess.
Pottery is as much a spiritual hobby as it is a physical one. It's about achieving the perfect balance. Just enough pressure, just enough logic and the perfect amount of creativity. Each piece yields to the potter's touch. One of the challenges that either makes people fall in love with this craft or run from it, is the ability to "feel."
From welding the clay on a flat table, to centering a mound in the middle of the wheel and finally to shaping it into the desired object is all about form and feel. Form = structure. I love structure because that's just another way to control things. And to be honest, when I control all of the subtle elements, I feel immense relief. I control the element of surprise, the success or the failure. Any way you slice it, I'll know what's coming - because I created it.
What a ridiculous notion that turned out to be.
It's the "feel" that makes or breaks the entire project. Form and feel. Just another yin and yang. One is no good without the other. As spiritual and intuitive as I am, I find I'm still generally uneasy about relying on "feel" to tell me where I am in the process.
The first time I tried to center a mound of clay on the wheel, I strained. I understood the form, but I kept asking if my clay was centered. I had to trust my instructors assessment because I was unwilling to trust my own. I didn't know what I was looking for. That's the way I justified the constant harassment. Each time, before she'd put her hands on the clay she'd ask, "How does it feel?"
I would shrug. It felt like...clay. Wet, slippery...bumpy.
"Close your eyes."
I clasped my hands around the clay and closed my eyes. She told me to "feel" the clay. Did it bump? Did it resist? Was it wobbling? I was so preoccupied with "looking" to see if it was centered, I missed the assurance that "feeling" gave me. I haven't had a problem with centering since.
With each class I learn something different about pottery, but mostly about how the attributes of my personality make it easier, or more difficult. When I come into the studio from a hard week, I tend to want to make wheel throwing..."logical." I am in a rush. I am hasty. I want this clay to mold itself into something desirable quickly and easily. Pottery doesn't work that way. And actually, neither does life. You can want all you want. But if you're hasty, rushed and not willing to "feel" your way through some of the bumps...you are going to wind up with a lopsided, uneven and disappointing work of art. Still art...just not the piece you were intending. You'll either discard it, or turn it into something else.
In so many ways, my patience (or lack thereof) impacts my ability to create. My ego begins to whisper that I've mastered things I may still need to practice. It whispers that I'm more advanced then I truly am, and suddenly, I'm making a mess of things I seemed to do so easily just days earlier. Suddenly, my clay and I are off center.
I started making a mess today, in all my haste to be somewhere too soon. Once I realized where my stubborn pressure was making a mess of things, I backed off. I took a deep breath and leaned away from the wheel. I closed my eyes and just let my fingers skim the surface of the clay."Doing nothing" and "feeling everything." I felt the bumps. I thought about what I did to put them there. I reflected on what I've learned thus far to recover. I slowed down my wheel.
And then...gradually...I turned a mess back into a masterpiece.
(And then I quit while I was ahead)
As for the endeavor itself, I am four classes in and already signing up for the next series. I'm day dreaming about a studio in my home. I'm planning on buying my own wheel just after the new year. I've thrown seven pieces thus far, of varying size and shape. They are all at varying stages of trimming, polishing, firing and glazing. And I can safely confirm for you that this hobby for me is definitely here to stay.
