"Happiness is to be fully engaged
in the activity that you believe in
and, if you are very good at it, well that's a bonus."
-- Henry Miller
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It all began with dip holes.
I was four or five years old when I had my first encounter with clay. All it took was a wad of clay and a stick from the walnut tree in my yard to find out how wonderful it feels to work -- to play! -- with clay and make it into something that didn't exist before.
The next opportunity to try my hand at ceramics came as a diversion from graduate studies in Cultural Anthropology at UCLA -- a much less tidy and more immediately satisfying process than taking lecture notes and writing papers. Yet clay was just something fun for many years. My clay tools came with me as I moved across the country, completed my doctoral studies in Cultural Anthropology at Columbia University, taught college courses and held corporate management positions in health care planning....
And then I lucked into the last opening in a Saturday morning class at Third Avenue Clay in Brooklyn. There I met Adrienne Yurick, a talented potter and great teacher. Even more than showing specific techniques, she challenged me with the big questions: What are you trying to accomplish with that vessel? How does the surface glaze relate to the essential form? Where are the positive and negative spaces? Does it feel in the hand the way your eye predicts it will? Is there something new to see each time you look at a finished piece? Now my doodles began to look like pots...I'd get ideas while driving, during business meetings, late at night...and I was hooked. Since that time I have taken workshops with potters in New York and California, attended national and regional conferences, looking and learning everywhere.
These days I am grateful to spend much of my time up to my elbows in clay. I sign every vessel with my initials, thinking of each handcrafted piece as a memo on my ceramics journey. Daily I appreciate the endless possibilities of transforming a wad of clay into something that is good to look at, good to use, and good for contemplation.
I was four or five years old when I had my first encounter with clay. All it took was a wad of clay and a stick from the walnut tree in my yard to find out how wonderful it feels to work -- to play! -- with clay and make it into something that didn't exist before.
The next opportunity to try my hand at ceramics came as a diversion from graduate studies in Cultural Anthropology at UCLA -- a much less tidy and more immediately satisfying process than taking lecture notes and writing papers. Yet clay was just something fun for many years. My clay tools came with me as I moved across the country, completed my doctoral studies in Cultural Anthropology at Columbia University, taught college courses and held corporate management positions in health care planning....
And then I lucked into the last opening in a Saturday morning class at Third Avenue Clay in Brooklyn. There I met Adrienne Yurick, a talented potter and great teacher. Even more than showing specific techniques, she challenged me with the big questions: What are you trying to accomplish with that vessel? How does the surface glaze relate to the essential form? Where are the positive and negative spaces? Does it feel in the hand the way your eye predicts it will? Is there something new to see each time you look at a finished piece? Now my doodles began to look like pots...I'd get ideas while driving, during business meetings, late at night...and I was hooked. Since that time I have taken workshops with potters in New York and California, attended national and regional conferences, looking and learning everywhere.
These days I am grateful to spend much of my time up to my elbows in clay. I sign every vessel with my initials, thinking of each handcrafted piece as a memo on my ceramics journey. Daily I appreciate the endless possibilities of transforming a wad of clay into something that is good to look at, good to use, and good for contemplation.
