I've got a brand new bag of clay. It's called 609 and it's like silken putty in my hands. It feels as if I could make anything with this mud. Oh, how I wish I could.
Despite watching numerous pottery demos on pulling, followed by diligent practice with my new beautiful clay, I have yet to pull a good cylinder. I see now that the bowl has been my form of choice because a proper cylinder is not required. Which means that I have been skipping right over a fundamental skill in order to get to the "fun part" of creating a form that comes naturally to me. That sounds familiar. Once I've decided to do something, I tend to jump right in and figure things out as I go along. This approach generally works, but is not hazard free. Sometimes I end up backtracking in order to learn how to do things "properly." My way often turns out to be the hard way. Last week, this Snap Judgment piece reminded me that doing things the hard way, is a curse that can be broken.
My previous post was a bit Eeyorish, with some of Pooh's optimism stirred in. I hope it wasn't too depressing, or too saccharine. It's just that, lately, my good fortune has driven me to wonder, "What will go terribly wrong next?"
Tomorrow, I'll ignore impending doom, throw on the wheel, and enjoy great music at LouFest. Life is good. Really.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
practice
This afternoon's wheel session was a great disappointment. I just glanced at my army of arches and have no doubt that they're conspiring to march off to someone who can, at the very least, pull them into decent cylinders.
One thought kept me going-- an individual must devote at least 10,000 hours to something before mastering it. Of course, those who are naturally talented may log far fewer hours before becoming adept. The rest of us must practice. This Radiolab episode offers an entertaining look at the relationship between talent, practice, and success.
I've been thinking a lot about how lucky I am to have the luxury of being frustrated by my lack of talent on the wheel. I have a job that pays the bills and leaves me with enough time and money to pursue other interests, such as pottery. Although my income to debt ratio places me in the ranks of the lower middle class, compared to many in this country (and many more around the world), I am rich.
Sometimes I feel guilty for spending time pursuing my own interests while so many others are struggling. Then I think of how quickly the years fly by and I know I am on the right path.
One thought kept me going-- an individual must devote at least 10,000 hours to something before mastering it. Of course, those who are naturally talented may log far fewer hours before becoming adept. The rest of us must practice. This Radiolab episode offers an entertaining look at the relationship between talent, practice, and success.
I've been thinking a lot about how lucky I am to have the luxury of being frustrated by my lack of talent on the wheel. I have a job that pays the bills and leaves me with enough time and money to pursue other interests, such as pottery. Although my income to debt ratio places me in the ranks of the lower middle class, compared to many in this country (and many more around the world), I am rich.
Sometimes I feel guilty for spending time pursuing my own interests while so many others are struggling. Then I think of how quickly the years fly by and I know I am on the right path.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
routine
I've never been a very good creature of habit. While I fit very well into existing structures, such as work and school, I have yet to succeed at creating consistent routines in my personal life. There is within me a deep rebellion against the notion that life may be divided into little boxes and arranged in a tidy row. Life is a whole lot messier (and more wondrous) than that.
At this point in my life, I crave order. Not the sort of spine tightening order of the woman down the street, who walks her shih tzu every day at 6 am and calls the police when the neighbors' raucous backyard BBQ goes on past sunset. I crave an order that will allow me to develop my talents and pursue the interests that bring me joy. I would like to follow this command from Gustave Flaubert, "Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work."
This weekend I began rereading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. The first time I read it, I enjoyed it, but (since I've never had any delusions of becoming a writer) it didn't particularly "speak" to me. Now that several years have passed and I am attempting to learn a new craft, her words are like those of an honest and gentle mentor. Today, I did not feel like throwing until I thought of the chapters "Short Assignments" and "Perfectionism." I decided I didn't have to create something I could be proud of, I just had to throw.
At this point in my life, I crave order. Not the sort of spine tightening order of the woman down the street, who walks her shih tzu every day at 6 am and calls the police when the neighbors' raucous backyard BBQ goes on past sunset. I crave an order that will allow me to develop my talents and pursue the interests that bring me joy. I would like to follow this command from Gustave Flaubert, "Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work."
This weekend I began rereading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. The first time I read it, I enjoyed it, but (since I've never had any delusions of becoming a writer) it didn't particularly "speak" to me. Now that several years have passed and I am attempting to learn a new craft, her words are like those of an honest and gentle mentor. Today, I did not feel like throwing until I thought of the chapters "Short Assignments" and "Perfectionism." I decided I didn't have to create something I could be proud of, I just had to throw.
So I did. Although I didn't create something worth keeping, it was good to get my hands back into clay. I am still having a lot of trouble with pulling, but I've found that wedging, centering, and opening have become much easier. Pulling will surely follow. The bottom of this bowl is way to thin and its shape is the result of my decision to salvage an unwieldy pull. I plan to practice trimming on it.
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