A meaningful class

Torn's post today inspired mine.

In college I took Ceramics for two terms. I'm the least physically artistic person you'll ever meet, but that class taught me to appreciate the process rather than the goal.

See, you start with a lump of clay. You put it on the wheel, use some water, and hope things go right. But, you might use too much water and lose the clay. Or, lose your focus for a minute and your vase becomes a bowl. Or, lose your focus a bit longer, and your finger goes right through the bowl and it's gone. You can't get attached to your piece, because it's changing all the time.

Then the drying out period. You have to keep it somewhere safe. If it dries too fast it could crack, and if it's too close to the edge of a table or shelf, it could fall and break. Or someone could knock it over if it's too close to other pieces.

Then there's the glazing. You don't really know what it's going to look like while you're painting it on. You have to hope for the best, and trust in your choices.

Then the firing. At that point, the piece can have too much glaze on it, and get stuck in the kiln, having to be broken into bits to remove it, or it can have an air pocket and explode in the kiln, or someone else's piece can have an air pocket and explode in the kiln.

Poof. Your piece is again gone.

But, if you've enjoyed it along the way, then you've not wasted your time.

Yep. That class, that silly little one-unit class, is the one I remember. I used to go into the ceramics studio on the weekends and at night, just lose myself in there. I would even dream about the wheel; getting centered on it is more of a feeling than anything else.

I still have several small bowls. None are big enough for cereal, or tall enough for a plant, but I have them.

I wonder if Adult Ed is offering Ceramics this year.