My latest love affair is with the process of pinch pots. I've always struggled a bit with the wheel, rarely feeling like I have the control that some other potters exhibit; poetry in motion, the seemingly effortless grace with which they produce a bowl or vase. Because of this, and remembering the fondness with which I recall my first experiences making pottery as a kid, I decided to return to this primal way of creating work; uncomplicated, ritualistic, and completely meditative. Taking a ball of clay and working it until it becomes a functional shape is totally grounding. Playing with dirt, in our increasingly digital world, is absolutely necessary.
I am so thankful of all the things I could have become, I became a creative person. I believe art is the one genuine thing in a world full of falsities and we are so lucky that artfulness can be incorporated into so many facets of our daily lives. Making a beautiful meal is an art. Drinking a glass of wine is art. Waking up, making coffee, and beginning your day is art. Finding these little moments of zen in an otherwise frenetic day is an excellent way to re-center.
I use a community studio to produce my work and have received some compliments from my fellow potters remarking that it’s so nice that I’m unconcerned with the perfection of the form. That’s partially true - I’m a perfectionist at heart, and ultimately very concerned with the perfection of the form - it just so happens that I am lucky enough to see perfection in the imperfection. I don’t make cookie-cutter pieces thrown on a wheel, and that is an intentional choice. And I am happy to see that is validated in the amount of bowls I have sold - others are finding value in something that looks to be made by hand, and I am so grateful! Because when it really comes down to it, what is the point of buying something handmade if it looks like it came off an assembly line? At that point you might as well buy a $2 bowl from Ikea. And this is not me dissing Ikea - I love Ikea - but when I want something unique that imbues the soul of the artist who made it, it’s not the first place on my list.
Not to mention there is just something a little extra about eating a meal (I’m picturing a hearty soup, but it can be anything of course) from a handmade, funky bowl. The food feels a little more nourishing, probably because as you hold it you can feel where hands formed it. To me, it scratches that itch of slowing down, focusing on the task at hand, and remembering that wonderful, functional pieces of art can still be made by human hands.
Thank you to everyone who supports my work and my perfectly imperfect pottery - I love spreading the handmade love!