Unstoppable

Last night I taught a throwing class for beginners at the Central Institute of Technology, Perth, for the first time.  I had 18 students, most of whom had no clay experience except for a some hand building in high school.  The ages ranged from about eighteen to about sixty.  I congratulated them on signing up to something I suspected they'd wanted to do for a while, I was right.  The teaching part was easy, but keeping them all feeling positive about their achievements was uppermost in my mind.  It is only a six week course and my mission was not just to get them skilled up and more confident in their abilities, but also, to imbue a love and fascination with clay.

The workshop is large, spacious and well equipped, facing right on a busy corner of Northbridge, in central Perth. Windows face the junction of Beaufort and Aberdeen Streets and often passersby and even drivers at the traffic lights look in with open curiosity, like a daytime TV show with the public waving at the TV camera from behind the presenters.  What did they see?  A picture of industry, people leaning over their wheels valiantly taming their wobbling spinning clay.  I was so impressed with their focus after a long day at work, no skiving off for coffees or smokes here.  Between flitting from wheel to wheel showing them how to get the wobble out of their work, I spotted one person having trouble, yet keen not to draw attention to herself.  She was a Japanese woman, probably sixtyish, and her English was not great, more gestural with the odd word thrown in.  Eventually I discovered the problem,  She had what looked like three dreadfully broken fingers on one hand, I doubt they will ever heal or even line up properly again.  This was from a volleyball clash, and she still plays!  She had tried to wedge, centre and throw before she shrugged and quit, and who would blame her. Nonplussed I tried to talk to her about her options as she did not seem to be in pain, the fingers were just in the way and useless.  We tried working without the bent fingers, centring with the heel of that hand and I wondered aloud whether a refund would be a good idea but NO!  'Can I make with just my hands?' she said, wishing to continue, but just not on the wheel.  How could I say no?  Should I say no?  Disability is a major factor in my family so I try to accommodate it as much as possible.  I'd have felt like a total heel to turn her away, yet I wondered was this always her plan.  So we will continue this way and see how it works out, but nobody else will be given this option.  She seemed to just want to get in touch with clay again, for as she said when I offered to bring in some good books and ideas for her - 'I have plenty imagination'.  This should be interesting. check out http://mudcolony.blogspot.com.au/?m=1 to see what my pals are up to in their studios.
Gratuitous image of chawan for sticking with me through this long post.