Kelly Savino on mon 12 oct 09
Stop me if you've heard this one.
In 1990, when I was a newlywed, I found a picture of a potter's wheel in a =
Reader's Digest book of various crafts. So I built one, guessing at the pla=
ns. My new hubby came home from work one day and found me stirring up 100 p=
ounds of cement for the flywheel... it was maybe his first inkling that I w=
asn't the typical wife. "Making me some brownies?" he said.
"Yep!" I said, dumping in a bucket of gravel. "Hope you like nuts!"
What I didn't get from the book, though, was the mental reversal of the ima=
ge of a person throwing... so I threw with my right hand inside the pot. Fo=
r, like, years. I had never had a throwing lesson, and I didn't know any be=
tter. I did fine as long as I made little bowls and cups, but I had a hell =
of a time making anything larger.
One day, not long after I discovered clayart, I signed up for Mel and Danno=
n's workshop at Appalachian Center for Craft (Vince's place.)
It would be a solid week of learning to throw. It was booked for beginner t=
o intermediate students, but it turned out everybody there could center and=
throw a basic form.
The first day, we were working away trying to show off our best stuff, and =
mel came by and stood at my wheel. "You're throwing with the wrong hand", h=
e says.
The well woman beside me pipes up in my defense... "Everyone's different, t=
here's no right way, whatever works for you..." Mel waited patiently, and t=
hen started over: "You're throwing with the wrong hand."
I lamented... how could I change now? But I learned this way! I could soone=
r play piano with my toes than throw with my dorky left hand! I guess I'm j=
ust a right handed thrower!
Mel looked at my pots, no doubt thinking, "and how's that working out for y=
ou?"
"It's muscle memory", he said. "You'll get it."
So I switched. It felt awkward for a while but suddenly I was throwing clay=
that was spinning away from my grip instead of toward my fingers... I was =
steering the crucial outside profile of the larger pot with my stronger rig=
ht hand... suddenly I was getting out of my own way, and I could throw big =
bowls, and tall pots, and surprising stuff.
A few days later I had made a pot that was so tall I couldn't believe I mad=
e it myself. It was the biggest pot I had ever thrown. I wasn't done, but I=
didn't want to risk it, and just sat holding it as it turned.
Mel came by. "Are you going to finish that pot?"
I said, "This is the biggest pot I ever made, and I don't want to ruin it."
He looked me in the eye and said with a slight sardonic grin -- "Kelly... y=
ou're not that good."
As I caught my breath he continued. "You could take all your pots, and my p=
ots, and Dannon's pots, and throw them down the gully out back, and the art=
world will have lost nothing. It's clay. It's just clay. Anyway, aren't yo=
u flying back to Ohio? How many pots do you think you can get in your carry=
on bag?"
It was a light bulb moment for me. He had me throw 60 pounds of pots and no=
t keep a single one.. later I threw, dried and trimmed some before they wen=
t in the slop bucket. It was incredibly freeing. Hey, if it's going anyway,=
let's see how wide I can go, how tall, how thin.
Best of all, I tell that story in every class I teach. Then when a student =
starts to get all precious about a thick walled, beginnerish pot, I can say=
... "Helen... You're not that good!" and everyone laughs, and they remember=
what we're here for. Not, like Lili says, to make doodads to take home to =
mama. We're here to improve skills, discover and then push our limits.
My students have different teachers who show them different, sometimes conf=
licting methods. I say, try them all, and then choose what does the job for=
you. But like every aspect of pottery, I ask that my students make informe=
d decisions. The handle be like that because that was the best of all possi=
ble approaches, not because that's the only kind you know how to make and y=
ou always stick it there. The choice is always yours as the potter and make=
r of your own work... but "I never learned to do it any other way" is the l=
amest of reasons for making a choice, and limits the length of your creativ=
e leash.
Yours
Kelly in Ohio... 5 hours of private students in the studio today, 3 more to=
night at the guild, made sweet potato curry soup in between... tomorrow ear=
ly headed north to the lake with Molly and her school books to trench for t=
he gas line for my soda-cat.
http://www.primalpotter.com (website)
http://primalmommy.wordpress.com (blog)
http://www.primalpotter.etsy.com (store)
Lee Love on tue 13 oct 09
Kelly, was the wheel turning counter-clockwise? I throw with my
dominant hand, my left hand, inside. The reason the korean wheel is
used clockwise by most folks, is because it is pulled with the bare
right foot, rather than kicked with a shoed right foot, as we do in
the west. On the Korean wheel, it puts your dominant hand on the
inside of the pot.
If you look at classic asian pots, they primarily seem filled
from the inside. When you look at classic Greek pots, they seem to
be formed from the outside. Also, open bowls are very common in
Asia.
I learned to throw as a left-hander, counter-clockwise.
This is perfect on the Korean wheel, because my dominant left foot is
used for treading the wheel.
--
Lee Love, Minneapolis
"The tea ceremony bowl is the ceramic equivalent of a sonnet: a
small-scale, seemingly constricted form that challenges the artist to
go beyond mere technical virtuosity and find an approach that both
satisfies and transcends the conventions." -- Rob Sliberman
full essay: http://togeika.multiply.com/journal/item/273/
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