50 for 50: 39 - Pottery Class with Sharon

Sharon used to work at the court.  She reached out to me when I first started working there, which I really appreciated.  But we sort of drifted to our own corners and didn't really hang out much together.  She's left the court -- gone off on her own -- and I reconnected with her on Facebook.

I've noticed from her posts that she digs some things I dig -- like space exploration.  And Dapper Days.  I wonder why we'd never stumbled upon these common interests when we were working in the same damn place.

I posted that 50 for 50 was pretty much open to any of my FB friends who wanted to play, and she asked to get in on this.  Hell, yes!  This project isn't just about celebrating with people I'm already close to.  It's also about giving a little push to friendships that can use a kick in the pants.

Sharon was interested in pottery class, which turned out to be a good choice.  (Full disclosure -- I had exchanged a few messages with someone else about doing the pottery class item.  We couldn't really find a pottery class and the whole thing fell through the cracks.  Hey!  Other friend!  If you're still interested in a 50 for 50, I totally want to play!) 

It was not easy to find a one-evening private pottery class.  Most places run classes for multiple sessions and/or want you to join an group class. 

And then we stumbled upon POT.  A radical collective in Echo Park, run by women of color.  How radical?  Here are some of the items for sale:

So, yeah, me and Sharon decided to get our Radical Feminism on and make some progressive pottery.  (Woo!  Power to the people!)

And then I put on the kitty apron.

Yeah.  The revolution is coming and it consists of two bespectacled middle-aged Jewish women wearing cutesy aprons.  Be afraid.

We met our teacher for the night, a young woman named Desiree, who asked that she be called Dez, had a bunch of ink and a nose ring, and emitted a really positive energy.  (Also:  she's the sort of person who probably appreciates being told she has positive energy.)  She's good at ceramics and good at teaching; she's patient and funny and offers us a bottle of wine.

We each have our own wheel and lump of clay.  Dez takes us very slowly through the steps of throwing a pot.  (And let's see how well I remember.  Put bat on wheel.  Put clay on bat.  Attach clay to bat.  Spin it into a cone.  Smush cone down into a ... well, Dez's looked like a fat mushroom, but mine looked like a Ding Dong.  Find the center.  Press in at an angle.  Pull that out so your Ding Dong is vaguely candy-dish shaped.  Tidy the inside.  Pull up the sides until you've got a cup or a vase or whatever you're aiming for -- or, if you're us, something you probably aren't aiming for.  Turn off wheel.  Remove item.  Drink more wine.  Get another bat and lump of clay.)  Dez walked us through it once, and we each came up with something you could legitimately call a ... thing.  Mostly round.  Bowl- or dish-like. 

She then talked us through it a second time.  Sharon got something legit out of the second one, but I messed up on pulling it and it lost roundness.  It very much lost roundness.  Looked at from above, I proudly announced that I made a Yin.

In places, I was working it left-handed.  There was one very good reason for this and one odd one.  The good reason was that several fingernails on my left hand had previously broken, so the nails over there were much shorter than on my right.  And throwing pots is not something you want fingernails for.  You're supposed to find the center of your Ding Dong with your right index finger.  Due to the nail situation, I was using my left middle finger.  Dez rolled with it, telling Sharon to stick out her finger and point at her pot, while I was telling my pot to fuck off.  But the odd thing was that she'd tell us to hold the pot with our left hand and shape it with our right, and I'd just WANT to do it the other way around.  Shaping with my right hand felt awkward.  Who am I kidding, the whole thing felt awkward, but shaping it with my left felt a lot more right.

(I am reminded that, back in the day, I used to pirouette the wrong way.  Well, I wouldn't say "wrong," but it was the way the teacher said lefties turn.  Hey!  Maybe I'm a lefty for art!)

ANYWAY, we had a third try at the pots, and I was up to the "pulling it" part and I made another Yin.  Although, THIS time, I caught it happening, so I know exactly what I did and how to avoid it.  (Basically, the third finger of my right hand, which isn't involved in this step at all, dropped slightly.  My nail hit the pot, carving out a chunk of clay, and the shock of the moment made me jerk both hands away too fast.)

When we finished, Dez let us each pick one of our pots to be glazed and fired (and available for pick up in about a month).  For me, it was a pretty easy call -- I went with the actual pot, rather than one of the ones that looked like it would be home in "The Persistence of Memory."  Sharon had two decent ones to choose from, and we helped her pick.  Then we spent way too long choosing our glaze colors, because glazing up the little dishes that we actually MADE somehow seemed REALLY IMPORTANT.

Then we cleaned up and took pictures with Dez.

Despite the radical feminism of the mugs in the shop (and I'm not even talking about the "Stop having Sex with White Guys" I saw on the desk -- was that one a political statement or a mental note the manager left for herself?) there wasn't anything particularly radical about our class.  OK, sure, you sit with your legs around the wheel like you're giving birth to it, but that's about it for the feminism.  But you COULD feel that "safe space" POT talks about on its website.  Art or craft (or whatever hybrid pottery is) can be scary, especially when you're experimenting with it for the first time and have no actual clue what you're doing.  But it's fun to try it in a supportive environment with a friend.