POTTERY IS FOR recentering.
Last Thursday I was feeling wobbly. By the time my pup and I padded up the stairs after our mid-day walk, my thoughts were swirly, my mind felt fuzzy and anxious. I needed a refresh, a re-centering.
It was a designing day, which meant I was home, curled in my cozy chair, face lit up by the glow of my laptop for hours on end. I thought back to a few weeks earlier, perched in front of a wheel in the studio, centering a mound of clay for the first time in years. It felt as natural as breathing and soon I was shaping the walls of what would become our coffee pour over. As my fingers pulled upward, I knocked the clay off center. No longer positioned in the middle of the wheel, it felt wobbly, swirly - just like my mind last Thursday. I scooped some warm water from a bowl and, using my fingers and the base of my hand, slowly pushed down, re-centering the clay so I could shape it again. Throwing it off center didn’t mean it couldn’t still become the dripper that would brew our coffee each morning. Centering and re-centering that little mound of white clay reminded me that, even if I’m thrown off halfway through, I’m not at a loss. I can always re-center.
After my walk, I knew I needed to capture the feeling I had on the wheel that day, so I filled the kettle with water and unwrapped a bag of my mom’s favorite tea. I chose a cream colored mug from the shelf, one I had made myself in the desert a few months earlier. With the tea steeping, I took a moment to look out the window. I wrapped my hands around the mug and practiced a grounding technique - three, two, one.
Three things I could see: a knot in a tree reminiscent of a little dancing man; a person calmly sitting at a bistro table in the restaurant in my backyard, waiting for their lunch date to rejoin; a limp pink balloon that had floated away from a babyshower months ago, now snaggled in electrical wires.
Two things I could smell: the licorice root and peppermint wafting from my steaming tea; a lingering rose from the oil I had rubbed into my skin earlier that day.
One thing I could feel: my hands wrapped around a warm mug I had pinched from clay, a mug that had been twice through the fire and made it out even more beautiful than when it went in.
I felt more at ease as I wandered back to my desk, to my glowing screen and my to-do list.
I hope the pottery in your home reminds you that there’s always time to re-center, to take a moment to yourself and ground.
My Desert Pottery Collection I made in Arizona mid-January is live! This collection is so special to me. I made each piece by hand at the same table in the desert home where my great-grandmother made her art in the 60s. Subscribers get 10% with code SAGUARO
March Grounding Clay Club pieces are shipping next week!! I still have a few more spaces for March/April/May group :) newsletter subscribers get 10% off with the code CLAYCLUBLOVE [and if you’re bk local use ILOVEBK for free pickup]
ps - If you’ve been thinking of joining, but don’t want to commit to three months, I’m offering a one month version for $60 with code ONEMONTHThe other day I mentioned in passing how I still prefer to create in my home studio, even with access to a shared studio space. This article gave me a little insight into myself, and why home is so special to me. “For an artist, home is not just a shelter. It’s a studio, a refuge, a cabinet of secrets, a site of inspiration. It’s where work gets done — work that will someday be released into the world but also, just as crucially, work that will end up in the trash, literally or figuratively. Home is a place to experiment, to make mistakes, to be vulnerable.”
With my new bookshelves in place I’ve been plotting my Spring reads. I’m planning to reread Getting to Center as I emerge from my winter den into this warm new season.
Thank you, thank you for being here. xx