London Pottery

When I was a little boy in London (I think), my parents enrolled me in a pottery class. I remember the wheel and clear as yesterday. Too fast and the clay would grow to thin and collapse. Too dry and the clay would tear.

One of the attractions in the town was do-it-yourself pottery. I took a taxi to the location; nothing was walkable here -- a first for Japan. Upon entering, it was clear the strong command of Japanese was required to complete the application, as spoken English was limited. An address to mail the completed pieces was required.

Regardless, once the demonstration began, language was irrelevant. The guy had the Hollywood stereotypical Japanese sensei-feel. He had long hair, spoke with a flawless voice, and wore a bandana. His control of the wheel and clay was incredible. Ten minutes of watching him, I was ready to move back to SoHo and go pro as a potter.

On the wheel things were a little different. It took a few tries for the memories to come back. I created two pieces. Keeping the clay wet and spinning the wheel slower than the teacher was the key. I will photograph when they arrive.