In a studio full of women, you hear a specific silence. It is broken only by the thump-thump of wedging and the whir of the wheel.
The first time I sat at the wheel, my hands were shaking from an argument I’d had that morning—another battle in the long war of being taken seriously. The instructor said, “Center the clay.” female war i am pottery best
How does one operationalize this keyword? How do you walk the path of the female warrior potter? In a studio full of women, you hear a specific silence
I am that female. I am that war. And I am pottery. The instructor said, “Center the clay
During World War I, many male potters were conscripted into the military, leading to a significant shortage of skilled labor in the pottery industry. In response, women were employed in large numbers by pottery factories to ensure the continued production of ceramics, which were crucial for both domestic use and as part of the war effort, producing items like insulators for radios and other military equipment.
Every struggle, every "war" I’ve endured has only served to work out the air bubbles of doubt. The harder the hands of life pressed, the more centered I became. The Wheel: