Throwing Down

Tonight was the first meeting of the weekly ceramics class I decided to take in order to humanize myself to Ilan and Lauren (little do they know I'd still kill them to save a computer!). I got into ceramics in high school after I stopped complaining about the mandatory art class and decided to give it a try -- this is the last time I can recall an authority figure being right about forcing me to do something. (Authority didn't even get to enjoy the feather in its cap -- I never really got to thank my ceramics teacher for exposing me to something I will love for the rest of my life, and anyway the bulk of her daily experience was yelling at people for making marijuana paraphernalia).

There are basically two pottery aesthetics. One is "make something that has thin walls and is functional. Spend as little time glazing as possible (i.e., dip it in the glaze instead of painting it on). Now make 11 more exactly identical things", and the other is "I just carved a frog into into the side of my pot!". Obviously I belong to the first school, with the additional qualification that the identical bowls (mugs are probably more useful, but the handles are annoying) look like they were made by a machine.

On the other hand, the rest of the class is very human:

(Carol, the instructor, spots me throwing away an attempt at a bowl)

Carol: Wait, did you just throw away that ball of used clay?
Me: Well, wedging it again would be a pain in the ass -- it's $20 for 25 pounds, right? The replacement cost of this small piece can't be more than a few dollars.
Carol: Oh, that's not really how I think about it ... for me it's more like "I can use that clay to make another pot".
Me: Hmmmm, so I guess this is a bad time to ask whether I can pay someone to clean my wheel for me?

I didn't want to get into it at the time (as with the gym, after awhile you learn that correcting people in the pottery studio is a waste of time), but life truly is too short to re-wedge slimy used clay. Does she have any idea how many vodka tonics people buy even though they're about to leave the bar and aren't really even in the mood?