Reinventing at the Pottery Wheel

I had Pottery Class tonight. We watched a movie about an artist that made teapots that I thought were hideous. I suppose that’s part of art, isn’t it? I trimmed up some of the pots I made last week and made two new ones. One that I made tonight I wrecked, but it looked kind of cool so I kept it, even though it’s really a “mistake”. That’s art, too, isn’t it?

As I was getting ready for class, though, I was trying to think of what it was that I wanted to make tonight. I’ve made several pots. I’ve made several cylinders. I’ve even made a really ugly mug and a lopsided saucer. I just don’t know enough about what is possible with the abilities that I have.

To continue along the symbolic nature of my pottery posts, it has recently occurred to me that I don’t know what it is that I want to make out of the rest of my life, either. I had imagined that I would be married with several kids at this point and I wouldn’t have to consider my options until all of my kids were in school, but that ol’ curve ball that life threw my way has given me a chance to “redream”. What do I want out of the next five years? The next ten?

I am at as much of a loss to answer that as to what to make out of the mound of clay sitting on the wheel.

I’m not sure how it is that we figure out what is it that we really want to do. I can ask myself all kinds of questions, but I come up with answers that to some degree feel out of my control. I’d like to be married again. I’d love to have more children. But right now, that’s not a door that feels ‘open’. I’m nowhere near close to either of those two options.

Given my current life, what would I like to be different? What would I do for a career if I could choose any? Where would I like to live if I could live anywhere? What sort of hobbies do I wish I had?

My answer to all of the above is: I.Don’t.Know.

I remember when I went to college. I entered the doors with the determination to become an International Business major. Whatever that meant. I took all the typical freshman courses and in my sophomore year, when I took Macro and Micro Econ, Business Stats I and II, Accounting I and II and the like I realized I hated business. I switched to a degree in Elementary Education without a clue of what I really wanted to teach. Luckily, throughout your early courses in the major, you spend time in various classrooms and I spent a spring break at my step-mom’s elementary school going from classroom to classroom until I realized that I hated the really young learn-to-tie-your-shoes classes, and really enjoyed the older, we-understand-metaphors ages. I student taught 6th grade and loved every second of it.

I wish I could do something similar now. Dabble in marketing. Try out photography as a hobby. Visit several states to see where I might like to grow new roots. But how does a person do that with limited money, vacation time and experience?

I.Don’t.Know.

I’ve decided though, that I need to really spend some time in thought. I really need to look inside and get a grasp on the direction that my dreams are leading me. I could waste the next ten years just being a mom and biding my time or I could take life by the horns (thanks, Dodge) and make it what I want it to be.

And, just like class tonight, I might find that when I try to turn my dreams into reality, I might make a huge mistake along the way. If so, I intend to still savor it, laugh, enjoy it and chalk it up to experience. That’s kind of like art, isn’t it?

Comments

Anonymous said…
Wondering what to make at pottery class...let me relate a favorite story of mine...I have been a potter for 30 years, and still sometimes think "what should I make?" Usually the answer to that question is teabowls. It's a good start. Years ago -- 25 years I think -- I was taking a pottery workshop with a master potter. He instructed me to make 50 teabowls. That seemed like a huge assignment -- I don't think I had made 50 pots in my whole pottery career up to that time. But I got to work, and slowly, one by one, the teabowls took form. I cut each one off the wheel, put it on the board beside me, and got to work on the next one. It was a long day, but finally, I had 50 made. I called the master over, and said, "There. 50 tea bowls. What's next?" He looked at them for a long time, and said nothing. Just as he turned to walk away, his left hand flipped out and knocked the board over, and all 50 of my little beauties fell to the floor, ruined. Without even turning to look at me, he said quietly, "Make 50 more." I was seething with anger. I would have gladly choked him to death, but there were witnesses and I was a coward. So I got to work and made 50 more. When I was finished, he came over, and chose one. "Keep this one. Make 50 more." I made over 200 teabowls over the next couple of days, and kept three or four. At the end of the course, he looked me in the eye and said, "You must learn each form you want to make. You learn it by making it over and over." I had the opportunity to visit this master potter last summer -- he's an old man now -- and after I introduced myself to him, he looked at me, trying to recognize me from so many years ago. Then he smiled and said, "You learn to make teabowls yet?"

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