“Just slam it on there, and go for it,” said Roseanne, as I sat down at the wheel. It was my first pottery class, so I appreciated my classmate’s encouragement. “Mine used to collapse and fly all over the place. But you can’t be afraid of that.” Much like most things, throwing a pot is much harder than it looks. And Roseanne was right, you’ve got to just go for it. Once I accepted that today was not the day for perfect pots, but rather a lesson in freeing oneself of inhibition and expectation, I was actually able to make something. I made a bowl –– it was small and wonky, but a bowl, nonetheless. “Just to let you know,” said Roseanne, as we packed up our things to go home three-hours later, “your face is covered in clay.” “It’s okay,” I responded, “I’m off for a swim.”
