On the Potter's Wheel

Among the many awesome gifts I got for Christmas this year, one was particularly thoughtful. It was from Marissa, my tutee (a terrible word) and friend (a much better one). It was dishes. Painted with blue flowers. That she made with her own hands.


Marissa made them last semester in her pottery class, and she told me a few things that have helped me feel more connected to the craft. (Before that all I had was Ghost with “Oh, my love, my darlin’” and trying to blink down beautiful tears like trashy Demi Moore.)

First, one of the hardest things about working with the wheel is centering the clay. If you don’t get it on right at the beginning, the whole thing will be off balance. Next, it’s hard to make big things. What starts out large continually winnows down, often even if you don’t want it to.

I imagine the lessons that can be learned from the potter’s wheel are as varied as the pieces it can produce, and they are lessons a real artist spends a lifetime learning and expressing.

As the happy recipient of an artist’s gift, I’ve been wondering about some of its applications for me. How’s the balance in my life? What sorts of things am I creating? How am I being shaped? I hope the answers I live will be like the ones my mom has found in the words from the Shaker hymn “Simple Gifts”:

To turn, turn will be our delight
‘Till by turning, turning we come round right.

And even if it is artistic heresy to evaluate creation in terms of function, I’m glad the bowl didn’t turn out any bigger. It fits perfectly in my kitchen display nook. I see it all the time and think of my friend.