My Greek pottery project is finished, thank goodness.
It’s been an interesting experience, for sure, and I was thinking earlier today that surely, there must be something I got out of it, besides the reiteration of how much I dislike art.
Strangely, I did find something, and it was as I was putting a last coat of black slip* on my pot. I realized I actually can understand how people can want to do art all day, every day. I hadn’t been in the greatest mood when I was painting^ my pot earlier, and the repetitive action of stroking the brush across the clay surface was incredibly cathartic, somehow expressing feelings I didn’t have the words to communicate.
I have the terrifying suspicion that if I had any great talent at ceramics, I would be switching my major. Actually, that’s a lie. But I might be trying to find a way to still be able to play with clay, because as joyful as I am that I will never darken the doors of the art center again, I just might be a little sad that I can’t squish clay between my hands simply because it amuses and calms me.
I am glad, too, I realize, for the insight God has given me through this project. Me making a pot out of literal clay is not a perfect analogy for God shaping us as though we were clay, because I am not talented in the realm of ceramics at all, but this brings home to me all the harder that I should be–and am–thankful I have a God who does not have that problem. His vessels always come out right. Which means it’s only my ridiculous stubbornness I have to thank for my life not going the way it should.
That’s humbling. For how can clay even begin to shape itself?
News flash: IT. CAN’T.
That’s the new flash I got about a week and a half ago; see my post A Story About Clay, Tears, and Dreams to read about it. Before this project, that metaphor in the Bible about God being the potter and us being the clay really held no meaning for me. How would I know anything about it? I’d avoided art since it’d ceased to be mandatory. But now I do. Now I know how frustrating it is when clay doesn’t do what you want it to, and an idea of the time it would take for an absolutely perfect pot. God is making the vessel that I am and handling all my stubbornness and the time and effort required with a loving patience I cannot even begin to understand.
Me, not so much.
God, I don’t understand You and somehow that makes me want so much more of You.
*slip is super wet clay that functions quite nicely as a paint when dyed.
^according to Kelsey, this is not a term I should be using, but since we’ve established that I’m not talented nor fond of art, I will disregard this technicality.