Why Handbuilding, and Why It's Not the Beginner Table
Okay, so let's get one thing out of the way first.
If you signed up for this class thinking of it as the warm-up before you graduate to "real" pottery on the wheel, I want to gently push back on that before we even touch clay. Handbuilding is not the consolation prize for people who can't throw. I threw for four sessions at a studio near the point of the mountain a few years back and produced what I can only describe as ashtrays for a family that doesn't smoke. I was bad at it, and I'll be honest with you, I still am. The wheel wants you to surrender control at exactly the moment your instincts tell you to grip tighter, and I don't surrender control gracefully. Some people love that. I don't.
Slab and coil work is a different discipline, not a lesser one. You measure. You cut. You plan a shape before you commit to it. If a wall goes wrong, you can often fix it, rebuild it, or start that piece over without losing your whole afternoon. It rewards patience and a little stubbornness, and if you've got those in supply, you're going to do fine here.
What we're actually doing in this class
Two techniques, all six weeks: slabs and coils. Slabs are flat sheets of clay you cut and assemble, like construction. Coils are long ropes of clay stacked and blended into walls, like something between weaving and bricklaying. Most of what you'll build is some combination of the two. No wheel. No wheel envy either, if I can help it.
What you actually need to start
Here's the thing nobody tells you when you're standing in the pottery aisle feeling like you need to buy a $200 starter kit: you don't. Not on day one. A butter knife, an old fork, and a rolling pin will get you through your first several projects. I distrust anyone who tells a beginner they need to spend real money before they've made a single pinch pot. Buy the good tools eventually, once you know what you actually reach for. For now, raid your kitchen drawer.
Things worth having on hand before our first session:
- A canvas or old towel to work on (keeps the clay from sticking to the table and saves your table)
- A rolling pin, any kind
- A butter knife and an old fork
- A cup of water and a small sponge
- Some kind of covering — a garbage bag works, plastic wrap works, and I'll make my case for shower caps later, because I'm serious about them and nobody believes me until they try it
That's it. That's the list.
A word about mess, and about supervision, from experience
I ran a youth activity for our ward a while back, pinch pots, fourteen kids, and I'd budgeted four pounds of clay per kid, which felt generous. It was gone in twenty minutes. Half of it ended up ground into the gym floor before I'd even finished my demonstration. I spent the whole cleanup afterward rethinking every assumption I'd made about how much clay a person needs and how much attention a room full of enthusiastic beginners actually requires. You are, thankfully, adults, and there's fewer of you, but I tell you that story because clay is more mess than people expect, and it's worth planning for that honestly instead of pretending it'll be tidy. Cover your work surface. Wear something you don't mind getting dusty. And please, wipe up dry clay dust with a damp sponge rather than sweeping it — it's genuinely not something you want to breathe, and a wet cloth handles it in five seconds.
The one opinion I'll defend all six weeks
We'll get into the mechanics of joining clay in a later lesson, but I want to plant the flag now: you score and slip every single join, no exceptions, no matter what anyone tells you otherwise. I've watched enough pots crack clean through in the kiln, including my own first slab box, to be a rules absolutist about this one thing. Everything else in this class I'll argue with you about happily. Not that.
Before next time
Just get your tools together and find a spot at home where clay dust won't horrify anyone, a kitchen table works fine. Nothing to build yet. We'll get our hands dirty next lesson.
~erin