Recently a friend asked me to make him and his fiancée some special cups for their wedding ceremony.
I always welcome the chance to do some throwing on the wheel. Although it has never been my main focus or anything even close to it, it has a special place in my creative life and I have a deep love for this centering and fulfilling practice. This partly due to the draw of practice itself and partly because it metaphorically cracked me open in just the ways I needed most and eventually led me to my career as a visual artist.
When I sat down at the potter’s wheel for the first time as a sophomore in college, it was the first time the raging machine of anxiety in my head and body calmed down and did so consistently. Within a month of beginning this class, I decided to change my major, I had without a doubt come “home”.
I was so self-conscious at the time - age 19 - that I would rise early to go to the ceramics studio at 6am so I could work for a few hours before anyone else arrived. I would then leave and go to my other classes.
Daily I worked and experimented and developed some peace of mind, clarity and eventually made some things I was pleased with. Throwing requires a lot of practice to become any good and I was lucky that I had a sort of beginners luck that carried me through the many months of floppy results that followed.
At some point in the semester, my teacher noticed and complimented me on my work and this encouragement meant the world to me. The truth is that somehow this recognition had the effect of bringing me into the present in a way I had rarely experienced and made me feel real, existing in this reality. Although it may sound illogical and strange, I had the visceral feeling of having more substance than before.
This encouragement also gave me the courage to admit to my father that I was going to officially change my major from communications to art. This was a big deal and something I was terrified to do.
Above all, I longed for his rarely given approval and the concept of stepping into a life as a visual artist was more likely to garner ridicule. All through my childhood my father had warned all 5 of us children against pursing the arts while paradoxically holding the greatest respect for those with brilliant artistic prowess. He used to say “I’d never wish a career in the arts upon my worst enemy, yet I’d never trade it for anything” and he could also be heard saying with disdain “there are far too many artists in this world”. He had a love-hate relationship with the arts and I internalized a lot of mixed messages.
My father had abandoned a career in his first love of poetry to become something his father deemed more useful - an architect. This always makes me laugh because although architects have a better chance of feeding themselves than poets for sure, “making it” as an architect is extremely rare. The vast majority of architects with their expensive educations spend a lifetime working for other architects in very insecure jobs with low pay.
Anyway, he has succeed as an architect and succeeded in a big way although it took him more than 40 years to do so and during many of those years we were very poor and often without basic needs.
His warnings and mixed messages were very understandable and justified. He was terrified we would have to struggle like he had and endure the poverty and blows to self-worth regularly. And as it turns out, I’ve had plenty of these experiences. It’s been a rocky road as an artist, but I’ve had the privilege of living life on my own terms and that has made all the difference for me. All in all it’s been worth it and honestly I’ve never felt like I had a real choice - ceramics was the only thing I’ve ever really enjoyed doing so I just HAD to make it work. This urgency has helped me persevere and was highly motivating.
As it turned out, he did not give me the patronizing response I expected and in fact when I shakily revealed my secret love of clay and change of life direction over the phone I could hear him smile while he calmly said "that sounds great". I was stunned and told him so. This became one of the first "real" conversations we had had in years and opened up an avenue of connection between us that lasts until this day. I've continued to be surprised and deeply moved by his support of my work over the years.
Throwing was my gateway to clay and through my love for it, I found the courage to claim myself. Even today I feel a sort of magical sprinkling of stardust each time I sit at the wheel and it was there for me when making "loving cups" for my friends.
My friends loved both a more earthy look and a clean and refined look so I began with making a variety of options for them to consider. This also provided an excuse to indulge my love of experimenting with glazes.
They chose a fine white porcelain with a glaze that while begin neutral has a lot of rich effects and colorful undertones. In keeping with an earthy natural look, I allowed these pieces to have a very natural gesture rather than a perfect symmetry. I proceeded to make 4 for them so they had extras in case they had breakage over the years.
Fun project and for dear people!
Thanks for reading my story and as always, I love your comments so don't be shy.