And thus it ends

This is the glazing yurt. A smaller version of where I do wheel work.

So, the last few weeks managed to get away from me without posting anything. Pottery class ended on on Thursday. I am pretty bummed. I want to go back for more, but until I get a job, that is on hiatus. Everyone was incredibly nice and encouraging, and I'm glad I did it.

A few things I learned:

I was definitely trained to be a production potter. I throw very quickly (with too much water) and make things that can come off the wheel, dry, be sanded, and go into the kiln. I rarely trim. The only things that get trimmed are bowls and plates, because I believe those need a foot rim. On Tuesday (the penultimate class), I made vases that could just be cut off the wheel and be ready to go into bisque (with a little cleaning) on Thursday. The woman next to me was astounded that I didn't trim things. I realized then that trimming A) wastes a ton of clay and B) wastes a ton of time. When you're in production, you don't want to waste that time or money, thus you don't trim. I still can't figure out why they teach trimming on everything, but perhaps I'll learn when I return. Also astounding was that I sand down my pieces before putting them in bisque. You want smooth work! (Thanks Mark and Meredith for teaching me to sand at every stage!)

I'm still really good at pulling handles. The woman next to me was pretty astounded by my skill. It was awkward, because she would ask me to call her attention to whatever I was working on to teach her. I tried my best to teach her how to pull a handle, but that felt strange. I think I blew her mind when I pulled the handle off the mug. I love doing that because I love how it looks finished, but it's tricky. I'm very proud of myself for that.

I think altered 1.5 to 2 foot vases are my calling. I started doing them in my last semester of school, but never really pursued it further. Yet, when I sat down at the wheel on Tuesday, that's what I kept making. And having tons of fun with it. I like the challenge of getting 3 lbs. of clay into a tall, even cylinder and then completely skewing the sides, while keeping it functional. Also, tall forms are the envy of many of my classmates, so I ended up giving a "lesson" to the two people who sat next to me on how to keep your hands together and steady when you pull up a tall vessel. I also realized I have no idea how to explain that. I wish I took pictures of these things, but I forgot in the moment. I've also been a little distracted by another (wonderful!) event in my life, so I'll use that as my excuse.

Things come out of the kiln today. I may stop by and see what I've wrought! (Plate below glazed in Woo's Blue and Leach's White)

I tried!

Encouraged by Meredith, over at Whynot Pottery, who knows my clay skills, I tried to tackle a 4 lb. casserole dish. The first one ended awkwardly when I didn't remember how to make a rim for a lid. I got all the way there, shaped the pot, it was going so smoothly. And then, I suddenly found myself staring at the rim, trying to figure out what to do. I asked the guy next to me, but he said that he'd only made one lidded container, and that was by accident. (How does that happen?) So, I turned the casserole into a large bowl and tried again. What resulted is what you see above. That was last Thursday.

This Tuesday, I charged myself with making a lid. I was in a funk when I went to class, and didn't really want to go, and that was clear when I sat down to work. I pulled a handle, which took me four tries, (Four!!) and then started on lids. I thought originally I would do a bowl lid that I could trim to fit the pot, but that didn't work out. I ended up going with what I was taught was called a "Tom Terrific" lid. (Not sure if anyone else in the world calls it that.) (And a quick Google search tells me it was named for a character on Captain Kangaroo. Thanks, internet!) No pics of the lid, and not sure how well it will work. My calipers are still set to my original measurements, so until I'm satisfied, I'll know what size I need to make that lid.

Threw a few little tea cups, no pictures of those either. I really want to push myself to do altered forms and keep looking at pictures. I sketch, but when I sit down at the wheel, my hands go to what they're used to. Must work on fixing that. Ultimate goal: make an altered, yet functional, teapot.

Thrown

I'm loving pottery class. Really thinking (hoping I have the money) of continuing to go back. I realized last night that in this world of clay, "Advanced" means throwing larger pots. Seeing as I made the personal rule to not throw more than 5 lbs. of clay at a time, I think I'll keep that for now. But I did throw a few bowls, a coffee mug and some sort of little pitcher that I'm not sure will make it to firing or not. Above is my wheel all set up to throw. I'm sitting down, which at the end of each evening, my back complains about, but alas, there are no standing wheels in a yurt.

Above we have a small bowl I threw which matches the one from last week, but smaller. I think they're going to turn into wide nesting bowls for pasta, decoration, or whatever else strikes my fancy. The coffee mug got a nice pulled handle and is sitting on its rim to get the curve in the handle to set properly. I like pulling handles, so hopefully more things that need handles will come along.

I saw these beautiful lidded casseroles (not pictured) that a fellow student made last night and was instantly filled with inspiration and envy. Beautiful round shape, lovely handles, really the kind of thing I like to use. I am not quite sure I'm ready to jump into covered dishes yet. I know I should try, but I think I'll try some bottles next week before I start bigger things.

Making pottery, again!

I started taking a pottery class last week. It's at Glen Echo Park in Maryland. It takes place in a yurt. I was very nervous going in. I haven't thrown since the early summer of 2008. That's three years ago. I signed up for the Intermediate/Advanced class, figuring that I'm close to one of those two things. I mean, I got an associate's degree and worked for potters, right? I showed up, nervous as a kid on the first day of school. Everyone was incredibly nice, and the instructor gave a me a great tour of the facilities. Small, but clearly very productive.

I just threw to get myself back in the rhythm of what clay feels like and how I work with the wheel. I kept my bad habits in mind (I still use too much water when I throw) and just kept making cylinders, cutting them in half and seeing how I was doing. Not bad. I really focused on making my rims as well, as I had the bad habit of reaching the end of a piece and it had no rim. That was night one.

Night two I had plans. Plans for bowls. I wedged my clay, sat myself down and got to work. I threw several nice things, but nothing up to my standards. Plus, I kept cutting things in half, just to see what my wall thickness was, how my rim proportion was, you know, the things that, if you enjoy pottery, makes the piece so much better looking and feeling. It takes a lot of work to make it happen. The people sitting next to me kept wondering why I was destroying what seemed to be perfectly good pieces. I tried to explain that I hold myself to a very high standard.

All that said, I have 5 more weeks of making work! And, I kept a coffee mug and a bowl. I might just keep on taking these classes if it goes well.

I'm a Cone 11

I had a very vivid dream about doing pottery last night. It was amazing. My dreams have been very real lately, not sure if it's the stress of graduating this week (yay!) or getting rejected from a few more jobs (boo!), but I wake up and can recall my dreams in incredible detail. Which is nice, but sometimes confusing.

But dreaming about clay, glazing, and firing was really nice. I was taking a class in ceramics somewhere, and my favorite part of the dream was when the woman showed me how to set up cone packs. In the dream I looked at her, smiled, and told her I learned long ago how to set up cone packs. For those of you who don't know, temperatures in kilns are measured by pyrometric cones. Each cone has a number that corresponds to a certain temperature that you want the kiln to reach (ideally). I really like cones aesthetically after they are fired - especially Cone 10 firings. They slump over, like they just gave up, but if your kiln didn't get too hot, and you put a Cone 11 in there, it stands up defiantly. I like defiance. I'm not much of a rebel, but there is a part of me that secretly sides with rebels. I can't explain it. I'm a rule follower to a T, but sometimes, I want to do the tiny rebellious thing, just because I can.

I feel defiant today. I've been feeling down and insecure this week, but today I feel strong. I can stand up to the world. I have talents and gifts, and I know that it will come through some cover letter and I will get a job that is perfect. I will find the space where I can be a Cone 11. Standing proud, strong, and not taken down by the fire.

Photo from ortonceramic.com

Renwick's Craft Invitational

Last weekend I went to the Renwick's Craft Invitational, "History in the Making" which will be on the first floor of the museum until July 31st. The four artists in this year's invitational are silversmith Ubaldo Vitali, ceramicist Cliff Lee, stained-glass artist Judith Schaechter and furniture maker Matthias Pliessnig. The work by all four of these artists is astounding, beautiful, and full of detail and craftsmanship.

When you enter the gallery, you are confronted with the highly refined, reflective surfaces of Vitali's silver work. Often, not one who loves silver, I really liked his quality of craftsmanship, attention to detail and clear knowledge of historicism. Even before reading his biography, where I learned he's from a long line of amazing silversmiths, I was taken by his awareness of history and how he made it modern, without making it postmodern. I really enjoyed the sketches for his work that were included in several of the cases, helping me to understand how he arrives at his designs.

Cliff Lee's porcelain work shows his background as a neurosurgeon with small details that I think would drive any other person blind or crazy. Or both. His work is sensual and his colors are rich and deep. He's spent a lot of time working on researching, developing and creating his glazes. One of his glazes has a long history, one better told by the wall text at the exhibit. (This is my passive-aggressive way of telling you to go see this!) His work is so refined and delicate, yet sturdy. His celadon glaze is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. And it highlights his intricate carving in a way I'm pretty sure the Chinese originally intended.

The stained glass by Judith Schaechter is some of the most beautiful contemporary stained glass I've seen. I've been in a lot of churches (where else do you see stained glass?), researched Tiffany, but her work is thoroughly of today and takes stained glass to a level of storytelling and deeper emotions than what I've seen in other works. Rather than stick to one color in a pane, she uses several techniques to achieve patterns and create multiple colors to tell her stories. With a leaning toward the macabre, her work is delightful and disturbing. But the way she truly won me over was with her Judith and Holofernes window. One of my favorite apocryphal stories (that I only learned in art history classes), she turned it to an almost whimsical, playful image of a young girl merrily going about her way. I loved it.

If I'd seen the furniture of Matthias Pliessnig earlier on in my life, I might not have the feelings about furniture that I do. However, his use of boat-making techniques to make organic, flowing furniture captivated me. I wanted to sit on it, I wanted to touch it, but instead, I just spent a long time staring at the bench in the room, moving around it, seeing it from different angles, and being astounded by his ability to manipulate wood in beautiful way. Fortunately, the Renwick has a "touch" gallery, and I was able to touch a sample piece of his work, finally, tactile enjoyment of the smooth, bent wood. If only I could sit on it. Or take a nap.

Go now before the invitational closes! The works are absolutely gorgeous and it is so heartening to see such beautiful craft on display. It gives the potter in me hope.

Embracing Unemployment

I'm entering week four of no job and I still have the ups and downs anyone looking for work does. The hopeful cover letter sent to the organization I'm dying to work for. The bleary eyes from reading job description after job description, wondering how I can more eloquently express that yes, I do have excellent written and oral communication skills. The frustration from the passive rejection that comes from an empty inbox and a silent phone.

But those are the bad things. The good things are these:

I actually stopped and smelled roses today. I went to my local coffee shop where I go to hang out for a few hours and interact with other people, just to keep the insanity at bay. Today is so beautiful, so I decided to take a long, meandering walk home. Joblessness = more time. As I walked down a street I'd never been on in my neighborhood, I came by lovely, huge, red blooms, gently swaying in the breeze over a fence. Roses are my favorite flower and I was compelled. The sun was shining, birds chirped (I only hate that sound in the morning, it's awesome in the afternoon), and the roses smelled heavenly. Sweet, but not overpowering. And they had that grown-in-nature smell that hothouse roses will never achieve. It was perfect.

I've started reading novels again. I had trouble reading for fun while in graduate school. All that other reading just made me want to put down books at the end of the day and watch something on television. But with the library only a few blocks away, I've started taking weekly trips to find new books, maybe read some old favorites I don't own, and actually read a book in only a few days, not a few weeks. It's like reconnecting with an old friend.

I do want a job, don't get me wrong. But it makes it a little easier when I have things that I can enjoy in the midst of the exhausting hunt.

Photo: Roses from the rose gardens at Reynolda House, take by me, 2010.