In a fit of craziness, I registered for a pottery class at the local University. I’ve been thinking about learning the potter’s wheel for years. This seemed like a good time as any.
Big changes this year. Mostly on the “personal life” front, but also a big change on the schedule. No Dewey Beach for me this year. No rushing for months to prepare for the eminent deadline. No loading the vehicle within an inch of it’s transmission’s life. No big drive halfway across the US (Oh I’ll miss those Chicago toll booths…).
Instead of Dewey Beach I’ll be a visiting artist for Minot State University’s NotStock/Potstock event.
I’m going to miss seeing everyone at Dewey Beach.
So back to the pottery class. I registered at Dickinson State. Again. Because I’d been there before in the early 90’s.
I have the ID to prove it. (That photo! Why didn’t someone tell me? I must not have had any friends?! This is what life was like pre-Nirvana. Hello, Aqua-net.)
I went to class. As we went around the room each of the students were supposed to talk about their background in clay. I’ve never had a real clay class beyond the workshop at the Archie Bray Foundation. I was a printmaking major after all. This clay thing was supposed to be a sideline.
At this point we are about four weeks into the semester. My new potter’s wheel is set up in the basement of my house – no room in the studio. I’m practicing in every spare moment I can muster.
And it is not too bad. Challenging. Really challenging. Like learning to play the piano and shift a manual transmission at the same time.
At this stage, most everything I make is throw back into the recycle pile. I’ve kept a few as a record of progression. Not sure this experience will produce good pots yet.
I’m optimistic. Like all of my favorite projects I feel strongly that “we’ll see” is the best description.