Disasters in Clay

Because last year we’d enjoyed our maiden voyage into the land of clay, my friend Ann and I returned to the Venice art center for another pottery class. Neither one of us lays any claim to artistic ability, but this seemed like something even we could do.

          And we could – sort of – and departed at the end of April with a few piece that were almost recognizable.

          This year? Not so much.

  

Pieces before glazing

        Our instructor – nice lady – seemed more scattered than last year, and the little time she spent instructing went mostly to a high-maintenance woman who worked on the same damn piece for a month and a half.

      

Two of these are already in recycling heaven.

  

Meanwhile, Ann and I stumbled on by ourselves, either being ignored or rushed to finish what we were doing.

 

Ann’s creations were better than mine, but that’s probably not saying much, since most of what I produced not even a mother could love.

          Twenty-five pounds of clay, and only one thing safe from the dumpster. 

        And I'm not even sure about that.