Before this summer rolled around, I hadn't touched a potter's wheel since high school. And for a class that I had been actively putting off since my freshman year of college, I found that I really did enjoy the experience. Don't get me wrong, the medium was endlessly frustrating. Just when I thought I'd gotten the hang of things, I'd sit down to the wheel and fail over and over at centering my clay. And when I'd finally get a piece to turn out, there was a good chance I'd ruin it trying to remove it from the wheel. And if it still survived, I'd probably jam my finger into the side of it while putting it up for drying.
I broke things and I cussed.
I may have even cried a little.
But now, a few weeks out from the end of the semester, I find myself missing it.
Here are a few of the imperfect pieces that managed to survive being made by me.