I’ve been a writer most of my life. My dreams, inner worlds and secret adventures have always needed an outlet that writing provided. However, I’ve also tried my hand at other creative outlets. Two that went hand in hand came from an introduction to sculpture that led to my taking a pottery class.
Long ago, on a hot, summer day, I was asked by an instructor to help with moving supplies. I was happy to help and followed the instructor to an art studio. There, I lent a hand, transporting large bags of sand and clay. My help was appreciated, and I was later shown around. At the end of the tour, I was given a small bag of sculpture clay. If I made something and brought it back, the instructor promised to put it in a firing kiln so I could have a finished sculpture for myself.
I didn’t want to make anything too large so I kept it small, taking my time as I shaped the drying clay and carved into it using a butter knife and a pencil. It was like working on hardening mud with flakes of rock. By the time I was done, I made a little pyramid with different faces on each side. When I returned, the instructor was impressed, suggesting I take a sculpture class. I was told, given the chance, most people who took the class ended up making ash trays, cups or pencil holders.
I tried taking a sculpture class the following semester but found the only available class was pottery. Since it still utilized clay, I signed up. The class was very structured, but soon, I learned how clay was made, the varying firing processes and how to mix glazes. Like the clay itself, the colored glazes began as powder. When each element was mixed then applied with water, brushing them on was easy and along with the clay, would become like glass after firing.
I spent many hours working on each project with other dedicated students. Unlike the rest, I departed quickly from cups, jars or coil constructions. To me, clay was a form of expression. Every assignment on texture, shape and design became a new spark of inspiration. Just like when learning how to type, I had discovered a new creative outlet.
I took a sculpture class the following year, trying my hand at plaster, wood and an array of materials found in class and around school. My fellow artists took part in several exhibits, produced amazing works. I realized then I was not alone in my passion for creating. I was one of many creatives of the world and among my peers. It was one of the most enjoyable times of my life and I will always cherish the lessons I learned and the friends I made.
By the end, I had an assortment of sculptures. Some I gave to friends and family. Some were included in a gallery with other local artists and many others were sold. I still have a few from those days and hope to someday try my hand at creating with clay again. Over the years, I have discovered many outlets and am grateful to them all.
There are many ways to express our creativity. Whether we use words on the page or materials found around us, the opportunity to share our passion will always be within reach. The tools are in hand. May we all discover the outlets with which to share our greatest hopes, dreams and inspirations.