I've been meaning for weeks to write about my experiences taking a pottery class, but its hardly been an artistic triumph for me so perhaps that explains some of my reticence. More like its been an exercise in meditation and equanimity; I try to make something on the wheel, I fail, I try again, and so on, for three hours every Thursday afternoon. Press, spin, smash, repeat. Originally, I wanted to explore a different creative space in order to enhance the kind of open mind my day-to-day demands as a consultant require. It's been much more than that, though, in the way that all the best things are. On a basic level, pottery is elemental; natural alchemy. Take earth, mix it with water, put in fire, and suddenly you have something you can hold on to. Utility. Mobility. And then come Aesthetics. Everyone in class talks while they work and I sometimes join in when the conversation interests me, although mostly I keep to myself, concentrating on what I'm doing and silently musing on whatever springs to mind: Wabi-sabi, Mono Ha, temples in Kyoto, Bloomsbury, Eva Zeisel, Beatrice Wood, Clarice Cliff, Sgraffito, a recent exhibition in London I wish I'd seen. Round and round again... (to be continued)
