Saturday, February 11, 2006

Playing with Clay

The other night FacetsWoman held an event at the Baltimore Clayworks. We had a great time, making tiles and pots. Yes, we got our hands (and our clothes) very dirty and enjoyed every minute of it.

As I poked a plastic fork at my tile, creating an effect similar to chicken footprints, I felt like a kid in camp. In those days we made ashtrays. Of course, today that would a politically incorrect thing to make. That’s OK, as those little ashtrays we all made we ugly and never really that suited to actually be used as ashtrays.

I don’t normally make anything with my hands. My hands type; they stir, the pick-up things; and they clean. Of course, there is the occasional hamburger patty, but that is hardly what one would call creative. Let’s face it; the link between the creative side of my brain and my hands is barely functional.

I must confess to an annual diversion with Silly Putty. Each November I attend a meeting in Chicago. The meeting is held at a fancy conference center. At each seat there is always an egg filled with silly putty. The first year I played with the silly putty the entire four hours. I rolled it; I cut it; I shaped it. The next year, I restrained myself and didn’t take it out of its egg until about two hours into the meeting. This year, I only played with it during the last hour. The reason we have the Silly Putty at the meeting is to open up our creativity. I figure if I use the Silly Putty I give the impression of being bored. Does it make you more creative to play with Silly Putty during a meeting? I don’t know, but it makes a good theory and a great gift for the grandchildren. They have come to expect Silly Putty as a Thanksgiving present.

Any seven year old could have made a tile at least as creative and pretty as the one I made at the Clayworks. I poked and prodded at it with various things lying around the table and I painted it with a glaze. Unlike my colleagues, I did not make any kind of additional clay attachment for the tile. Despite my abstract design in yellow, green and blue, my traditional and driven side took over and I concluded that I wanted to make a flat tile and get on with the pot.

So while my colleagues were still laboring with their tiles, I was off to the pottery wheel. My first attempt at a pot was OK until the thing fell completely apart. I am amazed at the amount of pressure required to shape the clay on the wheel. My second attempt, with much help from the instructor and a potter friend, actually came out looking like a small vase. I decided to quit while I was ahead. No doubt had I kept fussing with it, the thing would have collapsed just like its predecessor. In that respect, I am getting smarter in my old age.

This little experience has taught me that we really don’t change that much. I am no more artistic or patient than I was when I was a kid. I was the kid who wanted to make both the painted match holder and the clay ashtray. And at the Clayworks, as in life, I was not content to do one thing; I had to experience both the pot and the tile. Yes, I am a Gemini!

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