Discovering a Passion for Pottery
Our passions have the power to transport us to a place of complete contentment and fulfillment, and often, nothing else in life can replicate this experience. When it comes to pottery, “I dream about it, I go to bed thinking about it, I wake up thinking about it, making a plan,” says Margie Zavoico, guest on the I’d Rather Be Making Pottery episode of the I’d Rather Be podcast.
Margie had always loved art, but didn’t consider herself to be a natural talent. She even tried to major in art in college, but changed her mind when she felt she couldn’t be successful. But one day, several years into her retirement, Margie was getting a massage, and her therapist began telling her about the pottery classes he had begun taking in Asheville, NC’s River Arts District. His excitement was contagious, and he suggested she try a class or two, so she did — she took one class after another, loving it more and more every week.
But, throwing pottery — that is, making pottery using a spinning potter’s wheel — like the other art forms Margie had tried, didn’t come easily to her. It took raw physical strength to get the clay centered on the wheel, and Margie labored against two pounds of clay while she watched younger potters shape eight pounds of clay with ease.
When the clay is centered, it will look like it’s standing still even when the potter’s wheel is spinning quickly. Even the slightest wobble can make it impossible to create a mug, bowl, or pot that will be balanced and uniform. Margie watched student after student quit when they failed to center their clay after taking multiple classes, but she was so fascinated by pottery that she continued to return to the studio, ready to do battle with a new piece of clay on her wheel.
It took over six months of trying to center the clay before Margie found any success. If she could go back and do anything differently, she says, she would have been working out in the gym to strengthen her arms and hands — the key was to be strong enough to “tame” the clay as it defiantly wobbled.
It takes a single pound of clay to make a mug, and when potters work with 8-10 pounds of clay, they’re creating big, elegant pots. Margie loved being able to glaze, carve, and decorate big pots, and this motivated her to continue trying to conquer the challenge of centering clay on her wheel. After all, a potter can disguise a slight wobble in a single pound of clay, but it’s impossible to shape a 10-pound pot when the clay is off-center. “Most potters love to throw the pot, but they don’t like the glazing part. The glazing part is a chore. But for me, the throwing part is the chore and the glazing part is the joy.”
As the chore of throwing pots became more manageable when Margie could finally center her clay, she was able to dive headfirst into all kinds of glazing techniques. She gravitated toward Raku pottery, which is fired outside in a kiln at a slightly lower temperature than the traditional gas-fired kiln. For a Raku fire, potters wrap their pieces in newspapers after coating their pottery in chemicals and stringy materials like corn silks or horsehair, and then the high temperature causes a chemical explosion that causes beautiful and unexpected colors and zig-zagging lines to be seared into the pots. Margie loves the unpredictability and one-of-kind beauty that results from the Raku glazing process.
Margie is invigorated, not discouraged, by every new challenge pottery presents to her. This is the imprint our passions leave on us: they never feel like work even though they can frustrate us as we encounter repeated failures. But here is the mystery: why pottery, for Margie? Why ice skating for one person, or painting for another?
There is no defined path or blueprint to discover the equivalent for ourselves, but there is a certain openness and curiosity we can all tap into to be ready to stumble upon a new source of passion. For Margie, it was as simple as following the enthusiastic encouragement of her massage therapist. It was, when presented with the chance to try something new, the decision to say yes.
