It’s been nearly a year since I made my Beer-Guzzling African-Maori Dude. I can’t believe how much time has passed … and how quickly (cue: weepy violin commonly associated with the passing of seasons, leaves falling off withered branches, people growing old and wrinkly).
I had great Ghost-inspired potter ambitions at one point – specifically May last year – but then something happened along the way. Oh yes, life. Life happened along the way and my great Ghost-inspired potter ambitions were reduced to mulch.
The other day, I made the feeble attempt to resuscitate my inner potter (not unlike my other feeble attempts to resuscitate my inner artist here and here) by going to the studio and making …
… this. I say ‘feeble’ because it was supposed to look like …
… this. Talk about having your grand plan derailed …
… derailed by starting out wrong
As with everything else in my life, I was overly ambitious, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and started by cutting out a giant base because I wanted to create a giant pitcher.
… derailed by myopia
As I laid the spaghetti strips of clay around the fringe of the base one by one, I was highly focused, which unfortunately meant that I also became increasingly myopic. I was so concerned with how each strip was laid that I forgot to step back and take a good hard look at what the hell I was making.
… derailed by a lack of skill
And once I did take a good hard look at what I was making, I realised it had grown into a monster. I became very upset because I had no clue how to fix it.
… derailed by impatience
After a couple of hours of laying strips of clay one on top of the other, the monotony began to eat away at what was left of my brain. I was still miles away from the pitcher’s spout – thanks to its ridiculously gigantic size.
… derailed by disillusionment
I looked at my mass of clumsily shaped clay and the drawing of the smooth, shiny pitcher with its beautiful pregnant curves – no doubt the original destiny of the clay – and felt totally disillusioned. This mass of clay had been destined for a better life. Instead, I had battered it down to a lumpy existence of mediocrity – nay, an existence of Epic Fail! (grammatically erroneous, I know, but who cares) – and I was overcome with guilt.
So I decided to end the clay’s suffering (and mine because I was rather tired by then) and shape it into its secondary destiny: a less-than-stellar giant salad bowl. To assuage my guilt, I carved pretty little flowers along its insides.
The universe tells me there are some life lessons to be learned here. Now if I can only figure out what they are …
