The Journey Ahead
There's something magical about the idea of shaping clay with your hands, feeling the material respond to your touch as it spins on the wheel. I've been drawn to pottery for years, watching videos of skilled ceramicists effortlessly pulling up perfect cylinders and wondering what that meditative process feels like.
This upcoming project will document my first real dive into wheel throwing and pottery. I'm excited to explore this ancient craft and all the adventures, frustration, and hopefully joy that come with learning something completely new.
Clay has a way of humbling you immediately—it demands patience, presence, and a willingness to start over. I can already tell this is going to be a journey as much about mindfulness and persistence as it is about creating functional art.
What I Hope to Learn
The Fundamentals
I'm planning to start with the absolute basics: centering the clay, opening the form, and pulling up walls. These foundational skills look deceptively simple but I know they take countless hours to master.
Beyond the technical aspects, I'm curious about how working with clay will affect my relationship with time and patience. There's no rushing the wheel—the clay sets the pace.
First Attempts
The Process I'm Anticipating
I've heard that your first time on the wheel is humbling in the best way possible. The clay has its own ideas, and you have to learn to work with it rather than against it. I'm prepared for a lot of wonky bowls and collapsed cylinders!
But that's part of what excites me about this medium. Every "failure" teaches you something about pressure, timing, and the nature of the material. Plus, you can always recycle the clay and start fresh—there's something beautiful about that endless possibility for renewal.
What I'll Document
When I do start this pottery journey, I plan to document everything: the first time my hands touch spinning clay, the inevitable moments of frustration when forms collapse, and hopefully the joy of pulling my first successful piece from the wheel.
I want to capture not just the final pieces, but the learning process itself—the gradual development of muscle memory, the growing understanding of how clay behaves, and the meditative aspects of the work.
Challenges I'm Expecting
Centering: Everyone says this is the hardest part to master. Getting that clay perfectly centered on the wheel before you can even begin shaping.
Patience: Learning to work at the clay's pace, not my own. Rushing leads to collapsed walls and frustration.
Hand Coordination: Using both hands in harmony while the wheel spins—it's like learning to pat your head and rub your belly, but more complex!
Accepting Imperfection: Learning to embrace the wobbly, lopsided pieces as part of the journey rather than failures.
What Excites Me Most
Beyond the technical skills, I'm most excited about the meditative quality of pottery. There's something about the rhythm of the wheel and the focus required that seems like it could be incredibly grounding.
I love the idea of creating functional art—pieces that people can use in their daily lives. A bowl that holds someone's morning cereal, a mug that becomes part of their coffee ritual. There's something special about art that becomes integrated into everyday life.