I work with clay, and at the risk of sounding very cliched I feel that it chose me, or perhaps more accurately that I didn’t really have any say in the matter.
I find working with ceramics almost a form of self-flagellation. At times I really hate it but I feel compelled to do it. It involves a lot of patience, which I am not very good at. You form a picture in your mind of what this thing will look like when it’s finished, but you have to completely relinquish control of it at multiple stages throughout the process. You often end up with shattered expectations because there’s no way of knowing if what you’ve made is good until it’s done. It’s simultaneously magical and heartbreaking, and I think that’s why I'm drawn to it.
