Learning to make something imperfect

The bowl leans to the left. Not enough to spill anything, but enough that I notice every time I put it on the table. I made it during my first pottery class, and for a while I kept it at the back of the cupboard.

I had arrived at the studio with an unreasonable confidence that watching a few videos might translate into knowing what to do. Ten minutes later, my clay had folded into something that looked like a tired hat.

Starting without being good

Our teacher did not fix it for me. She showed me how to slow the wheel, how to brace my elbows, and how to notice when my hands were asking the clay to move in two directions at once. Then she let me try again.

There is a particular freedom in doing something before you know how.

Being a beginner is uncomfortable when you have spent years learning to appear capable. There is nowhere to hide on a pottery wheel. The thing in front of you tells the truth about what your hands can do today. Tomorrow might be different.

• Make one thing without deciding whether it is good.
• Keep the first attempt. It records a beginning.
• Give your attention to the process before asking for a result.

The bowl lives on the table now. It holds keys, sometimes an orange. I like its small lean. It reminds me of the afternoon I stopped trying to look like someone who already knew how.