Last night I threw some pots...

Well, actually, I threw some cylinders.  “Huh?”  You say? 

When I was in college, I spent many hours in an art studio.  Yes, ME, Erin, in an ART studio.  It is not that hard to imagine, come on!  I do enjoy other things besides horses and rocks and flowers.  Sheesh!  But yes, I spent many hours lost in my head in a pottery studio making all sorts of items out of red clay.  After some time, I realized that while I liked all aspects of working with clay, my favorite method was the pottery wheel.  Working the clay on the wheel was a hypnotic state of sense for me – if something was on my mind, I was guaranteed a respite from it while covering myself with mud and watching my blob of clay go round and round in almost infinite circles.  After a while, however, school, life, and a job got in the way of my studio time and I eventually ceased my involvement altogether.

Fast-forward many years. 

I miss going to the studio and working with clay.  It is, in some part, about creating something from scratch, having a finished product, and being able to proudly (or maybe not so proudly!) say “yeah, I MADE that”.   But it is also about simply loosing one’s self in something beyond the daily grind of adult responsibility.  I see pottery (and for that matter, art in all forms) at folk festivals and remember my own minuscule items which I treasure.  For anyone who makes things, be they items made of wood, stone, or string, or words, there is a knot inside of you that just feels the need to create.

My need to create never goes away; however, life becomes the priority once you are responsible for things like paying the bills, putting food into your tummy, putting clothes onto your body, and in my case, having an expensive equine obsession (expensive both in money and time!).  Insignificant interests like gardening, photography, writing, and pottery, in large, become items which require balancing and manipulation into the little bit of ‘extra’ which exists only after all the important stuff.

In some ways, I do find time to manipulate my interests into my day.  I take pictures of everything, fixate on flowers and plants, pat my horse (although on a less than perfect schedule), and write on this blog.  Loved ones wholly support me in my quirky endeavors as well.  Still, I wondered how I would get a taste of clay again.  In the back of my mind, I plan on eventually, some day, having a house with an extra room so I can get a wheel and a kiln and entertain myself whenever I want.  In the meanwhile, I was not even sure I still liked clay.

Enter Jim.

For a few years since moving back east, I have entertained the idea of possibly getting back into pottery.  I looked around the area, but did not want to rent studio space or take classes in Alexandria or up in Fairfax someplace.  One of Jim’s coworkers also enjoys pottery and enlightened Jim, and later myself, to a pottery studio in Old Town Manassas.  I was intrigued, but did not act on my interests - unwilling, I guess, to find again a love for it and be limited in what I could do.  However, Jim bit the bullet for me and for my birthday, presented me a gift certificate with a little push in the middle of my back to go try it out.

So I signed myself up for an 8-week pottery class - on the wheel, of course! 

I arrived at the studio last night, paid my fees, bought my supplies, picked out my 25 pounds of clay, plopped myself in front of a wheel, and after a refresher tutorial from the class instructor, threw my first piece of pottery in over 9 years.  A cylinder…which looked more like a crooked bowl, but it WAS a circular container!  After some pointers from the instructor, I proceeded to throw three more cylinders – the last one looked (and felt) great.  I then threw my first ever plate.  I must say, for not doing anything for so long, it is a little like riding a bike – you never forget.

I cannot wait until my class next week!  We’re throwing goblets…  J