Hands in Mud

I took my first pottery class tonight.  It was everything I was hoping it would be, once I actually managed to find it.  The local community college offering the class is a labyrinth composed of many little buildings and many winding halls within those buildings, so it took me quite a while to find the ceramics studio.  When I got there, the instructor hadn't started yet, and I was able to catch the whole class.

I watched the teacher go through the process of centering the clay and forming an object.  Then, we got the chance to try it ourselves tonight if we wanted to.  Since that was why I was there, I got some clay, headed to a wheel, and literally tried my hand at it.  To my great amazement, and I think, the amazement of the instructor, I got the clay centered fairly quickly on my first attempt.  I'm sure it was beginner's luck, but it felt so natural.

I had more trouble pulling it up.  I got a cylinder built, but it's not the loveliest thing you've ever seen.  For the first time I've ever done it, though, I don't think it's too bad.  Maybe with some glaze on it, it won't be utterly disreputable.

This is everything I hoped it would be.  I could have done it all night, just me and the wheel, pressing and shaping, forming and reforming.  It's like a meditation.  As I watched my hands pressing into the center of the clay, I felt my stress draining down that same center, spiraling away.  I can't wait for next week.  The instructor said he's going to teach me to throw bigger vessels since I have large hands and long fingers that will enable me to reach and pull them.  Maybe these hands are not just organ-playing hands and wildly-gesturing-while-I'm-talking hands.  Maybe they're pottery hands.  I hope my beginner's luck holds.