A lesson in accepting imperfection
The Kurinuki technique, used on the bowl I am holding here, is characterized by sharp and slightly rough angles.
Last week, I went to a pottery workshop at Yonobi in Copenhagen. Being on an extended sick leave from work, I am slowly finding my creativity again and the urge to learn something new and use my hands to make things is strong. It makes me so happy.
The class started with a matcha tea workshop, held by Tyst Te, after which we handbuilt our own matcha bowls using the Japanese Kurinuki technique, where the outside of the clay is carved leaving a rough exterior characterized by sharp angles. While I would normally be more drawn to s more gentle and soft bowl, the individual look of Kurinuki pieces, that can never be repeated, intrigued me.
I don’t have a lot of pottery experience and handbuilding was completely new to me. But I have to say, pottery does something to me. There were a lot of different emotions in the span of those two hours which one of the teachers called a rollercoaster.
Pottery is an emotional rollercoaster
There is the excitement of working with your hands, which is such an unfamiliar exercise for many of us, when we usually spend our day behind a computer and watching tv in the evening.
There is the fear of failure when you inevitably carve away too much clay and make a hole in your bowl.
There is a sense of accomplishment when you manage to patch up the holes and save your piece.
There is the disappointment when the patching up does not look as good as it did before.
There is the encouragement from the teachers which I found very much needed when I struggled to stay positive in light of my lack of experience.
There is comparison with class mates and all of their work being so much ‚better‘ than your own. Questions like: Why didn’t I do it like that? Why can’t I make my bowl’s walls stand up like that?
There is annoyance or sadness when you don’t manage to make your piece come out as you imagined it or as the examples (from a professional, mind you).
And then there is acceptance that you did your best. That clay has a mind of its own. And that the imperfections are what make your piece unique and wonderful after all.
The imperfect journey
After a brief introduction and selecting our clay, we got started handbuilding our own Matcha bowls.
I feel like pottery’s gift is helping me to accept imperfections as part of the journey. As part of the goal in fact. The Kurinuki technique wants us to make pieces where none look alike. Perfection and all-the-sameness are impossible (and discouraged).
With all negative emotions came the intrusive thoughts of not being good enough, that I am all too familiar with. I was reminded again that comparison truly is the enemy of joy. That without making mistakes (aka carving holes into my bowl) I wouldn’t learn how to hold the carving tool correctly. That I can fix all mistakes - one way or another. Throughout it all, I need to keep in mind that it was my first time quite literally trying my *hand* at something new.
Can I take these lessons forward and apply them to other areas of my life, I wonder? Can I accept imperfections in my knitting, for example? Can I accept imperfections in my home? Can I accept imperfections in my love life? Honestly, I am not there yet, and I am not sure if and when I will get there. But I am okay with starting to practice on my next pottery pieces.
“Pottery’s gift is helping me to accept imperfections as part of the journey.”