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.
