Stu and I braved the beautiful snowstorm last night and headed back to our pottery class again.
I didn't go into this with any preconceived notions. I hadn't considered what I might make. I suspected I'd make something round since we'd be working with clay on a spinning wheel, but beyond that, I was ready to be pleased with whatever happened.
It turns out, I make bowls. Other people make pitchers, mugs, spoon holders. I make bowls.
My bowls are each individually unique. Similar in some ways, but different in others. None of them is perfect, flawless. But each is beautiful, and pretty amazing, if you ask me. I can't hardly wait to see how they turn out after firing and glazing and firing again.
And even more amazing are the pieces that Stu has made, like the one on the left next to mine on the right in the picture below. Mine are great in their own way and his are a step beyond, a reflection of him and his vision of how to create pottery.
This whole experience feels very much like parenting. I didn't have any preconceived ideas about who or what my children would become. I only knew I would love them, whoever they became. And they have all turned into amazing adults who are creating another generation of beautiful, creative beings.
Yes, it is awesome indeed.
1 comment:
So cool. You should visit the Church History Museum and see the Native American pots there. Ask a docent to tell you the history. A lot of pot making in that culture is about tying families together and telling the family story.
Wonderful that you can do that with your son.
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