It was my honor to participate in the International Guild of Miniature Artisans academy in Maine last weekend to learn miniature pottery. Maine’s my favorite state, so I’m always thrilled to travel north from Maryland for the lobster, cool fresh air that ensures I won’t have a humidity-induced migraine during my stay, the blueberry ice cream, beachcombing, historic architecture and brilliant sunsets.
I’d bought a miniature pottery wheel at home, promptly purchased the wrong kind of clay, and produced absolutely nothing, deciding to wait and learn from a professional. Our teacher, Troy Schmidt of Red Dragon Pottery in California, was perfect to learn from, not just for his expertise, but for his patient, calming nature in a setting that was stressful at times for a beginner.
A six-day, seven-hour class that began at eight a.m. was no joke. It was a crash course in tiny pottery on a tiny wheel. I must’ve known it’d be at the limits of what I could handle, because I rented a little cabin on the lake in the woods where I could retreat, reinforcing the shaky foundations of my self-esteem by swinging on the porch swing, drinking in the sunset, getting high and creating a new moon crystal grid, and any other reiki-master woo-woo that could help me get through a week.
On day one, I was sure I’d never be able to complete even the simplest of pots. My wheel rocked and rolled so hard I heard the “wobble baby wobble baby wobble baby wobble…” song on repeat in my head. The pottery wobbled because I was letting it control me. But I remembered my mom telling me about babies: you have to let a newborn know who’s in charge early or you’ll never get a good night’s sleep again.
The first thing you learn is how to center the clay. Don’t be off-kilter or all out of whack, or else the end result of your efforts will be off-balance too. Take the time to create a good, centered foundation. And know when to pack it and go for a fresh start.
Don’t be too much of a perfectionist. I used to always say “embrace mediocrity” and it drove my son crazy (he’s a Virgo), but never have I been more thrilled to be a non-OCD person than during my week learning pottery. Was this pot great? No. Was it good enough? Sure, since I’m just learning. I do have three Virgo placements in my own chart, so there were times, like when I learned trimming, where I could get down with learning to make things more detailed and better too, and I found that very rewarding.
Especially during Pride month, it was beautiful to learn and experience the process of glazing, and seeing work come out of the kiln in its new colorful form after having been through its earlier cocoon stages. There’s so much artistry in the choices you make with glazes and decoration: I can’t wait to explore them in future creations. In a week that could feel heavy and exhausting at times in learning (and often failing at) something new, I felt it was important to create a few things that were sentimental or just for fun— and those turned out to be my favorites.
While I was proud of a teapot that had been most technically difficult, I love the Corningware coffee pot I created in remembrance of the one my mom always used, I made an out-of-scale “Ms. Pac Man-ware” plate from leftover clay I’d used as a base for trimming, and my favorite: a humble ceramic Christmas tree—like the one my mom brought out every year (I collect them now): the whole miniature community came together to help me quickly find the electrical supplies and learn how to get her lit up in time for our graduation exhibit on the last night.
—Follow Mary McCarthy on Substack, Instagram & Bluesky