The Pottery Class Experiment Posted Jul-8-2005

Expectations vs. Reality

In my ongoing quest to understand the intricacies of various art forms and expand on my own education, I’ve made it my mission to indulge in some hands-on class work. First class on the roster: Wheel Thrown Pottery.

I signed up for this 6-week (one night a week) class after meeting the instructor about a month ago at a volunteer appreciation party. Over dinner we discussed at great length the creative process and the therapeutic aspects of working with clay and other art mediums.

Afterwards, Stella* took me on a small tour of the art studio we’d be working in, and showed me some of her own pottery pieces that had yet to be glazed. Right before my eyes were stoneware mugs — that once painted could very well be sitting on a shelf in some department store with a sticker on the bottom saying: “Handmade stoneware made with the greatest care.” Marketing manipulation or not, I was going to take this class!

Anticipating my entrance into the world of pottery making, I’ve been gearing up these last few weeks waiting for the very moment my hands would touch the organic earthy clay that would be delicately formed into beautiful things. In my naive grandiose mind I assured myself that I too would make a mug worthy of gracing a shelf at the Pottery Barn.

[Record scratching sound]

Okay, this is where fantasy and reality collide. And this is not easy to write about because I’m sitting here with an imaginary lump of clay in my lap with the word HYPOCRITE carved into it with some sharp imaginary clay tool. It took only one class for me to come home completely frustrated and seriously contemplating NOT going back. It was hard. It was messy. And out of five students, I sucked the most. (I know I'm being harsh... that's the frustration talking.)

There’s nothing worse than being the slowest student in the class. Yep, that was me. The one who kept calling the teacher over and being instructed in ten different ways how to do the same thing and still failing. I just wasn’t getting it. Halfway through the class I fantasized about ditching the next five sessions. That’s what kept me there the entire two hours. In my self-loathing I kept reminding myself, “I bet THEY can’t work Photoshop like I can!”

“But Chris, you tell everyone else not to be quitters!” I can hear you saying now. And you’re right. That’s the irony of this whole thing. That’s why I decided to write about this experience and use it as an example to illustrate how we all struggle at things. That’s the least I can do now that the class is paid for and I’ll never get my money back. <grin>

Seriously, if I’m going to coach people how to be their best creative selves, I have to practice what I preach. And I also have to be honest about the hard work and effort it takes to accomplish some of our goals. It's not always going to be easy. Our expectations don’t always align with reality. And sometimes, maybe more than we like, it's going to be messy and we’re going to get dirty.

Now that I’ve had a few days to settle down and think about my first pottery class, I’ve decided that I am going back next week. Even if I have to spend the entire class re-doing what I did the first night, it’s going to be worthwhile. And the reasons why will be revealed in my class-by-class synopsis, which I will record for your entertainment and my compelling reason for “sticking with it.”

I already know that by the end of the course I'm going to be patting myself on the back for not being a quitter. Maybe by then I'll be beyond "getting it" and making some cool stuff. If not, that's okay too. The bumpy, self-challenging road I'll be on until that day is what's important here. It's not so much about learning the art as it is not dumping something when the going gets tough.

Seeing something through even when it seems trivial ("in the big scheme of things, pottery class is so insignificant") is not only character building, but also life-enhancing. How many lightbulbs did it take Thomas Edison** to finally get one to work? Good thing he didn't quit, or we'd be missing out on all of those "how many ____ does it take to screw in a lightbulb" jokes. See, through my frustration I still have a sense of humor. Now watch me *not* be a quitter. (© 2005 Chris Dunmire) •

Next: Pottery Class: Day 1

*Not her real name.

**Okay, it was really Davy, Swan and Edison.