Learning Pottery

The Parable of the Pottery Class

If there’s one thing I think of when I think of pottery, it’s that story about a ceramics teacher who had half their students work all semester to create the perfect pot, while the other half worked all semester to create as much pottery as possible. In the end, the students who strived for quantity instead of quality were said to also have higher quality work. This story comes from Art & Fear (which I haven’t read yet), but in looking it up online, I came across this post saying that the Art and Fear author actually modified a true story about a photography class into a story about a pottery class.

Anyway, this story is one that comes up a lot within my group of creative programmer friends (probably introduced to the group via my friend’s artist wife?). In part, is a philosophy to apply to the craft of programming – making a bunch of imperfect things many times and frequently starting over because that can be a much faster way to learn.

I tried to keep all this in mind over the last month when I took my first pottery class (since messing around with clay in summer camp as a kid). I wasn’t going to try to do things perfectly, I was just going to try do it a lot.

Even though the parable’s true origin is supposedly in photography, clay is such a fitting metaphor. After getting my hands on a a wobbly hunk of rapidly rotating clay, I can’t imagine any way to get good at such a thing without spending a lot of time doing it badly.

I think it’s working. I’ve thrown about 10lbs of clay now, so only 20% of my way towards the fabled “50lbs for an A”. I can’t quite control what I’m doing or make things with clear intention, but I’ve made enough things that some of my awkward little pots are actually legit little mugs, and I can feel myself getting better.

Learning

It was hard to take pictures because my hands were usually so messy, but I did want to capture some of my novice experiences! It’s a great little studio space, which also tends to leave its big door open for good ventilation.

A glimpse of a wheel station at the studio. A little plate on a pottery wheel.

I thought I wouldn’t care about adding handles to mugs, but then I found it very satisfying to pull handles. I tried a bunch of times on handle-pulling day and these are the 3 handles I ended up with.

A side view of a mug with a funky handle. Three mugs with handles. The left-most mug was thrown by the teacher, but I added the handle.

The Mystery of the Glaze

When it finally came time in the class to learn about glaze, I had a number awkward little vessels to try glazing.

A collection of bisque fired pieces, upside down with wax on their bottoms. A collection of unfired glazed pieces.

Not all the glazes at my studio had sample pieces, and my clay was a light tan recycled clay. I just wanted to try as much as possible to see how things would turn out! I did have enough prior ceramics experience to know that raw glaze looks totally different from how it looks when it’s fired, but it’s still a stark difference.

Holding a pot above a bucket of glaze labeled Noxema Blue. The top of a glaze bucket labeled Tenmoku. A pot with white glaze and rust brown glaze. The final fired pot in blue and black.

I personally like this “Rutile” glaze a lot, with the secret blue popping out. I also liked this “milky white” and “fake celadon” dripped together.

A mug with wiggly handle and brownish glaze with pops of blue all along the inside and a bit on the handle and sides. A mug/pot with green and white drips of glaze that almost seem inverted on the inside vs the outside.

Closing the Loop

One notable thing about this ceramics experience was how long the whole process took. Throw the pieces. Let them dry. Trim them. Let them dry more. Wait for the studio fairies to bisque fire them. Find them on the shelf. Glaze them. Wait for the studio fairies to fire them again. Find them again in all their glazed and finished glory.

My first two pieces. I think the teacher helped with the left one, and the right one has a thin collapsing side. My first batch ready to pick up at the studio.

I’m not complaining, it was just that in combination with throwing pottery on a wheel being hard in its own way, I didn’t know how it was all going to come together and what early mistakes (or successes) would matter later or not. So I just tried as much as I could so I could explore the possibility space as much as possible in the time I had.

Now I’ve seen the whole process, so some of the mystique is gone! I have not yet thrown any pieces after having seen any finished pieces. But gears are turning in my head… what size vessel do I want to drink coffee out of, what makes a handle or the rim of a mug feel bad or good, how would I like the size or shape or even color of some of theses dishes to be different? What do I want to create to use in my own daily life?