The purpose of being at Compton Verney (which Wikipedia describes as an 18th century country mansion: Compton Verney House ) was a pottery lesson – and when we arrived there (just before 10am)….
…the gift shop had 150cm long soft toy snakes, Poo Bingo sets, and Christmas decorations (among other things) for sale; it felt cold, things were misty, I began shivering, and someone dashed in and said something I forgot. In the place called the studio a book that appeared to be titled ‘The Day The Crayons Quit’ was on a trolley, and I had a quick look at it before connecting to the WiFi (and most of the other people there were retired). The 12 of us there were led upstairs by someone who told us stuff about fire exits, and the name of the bloke sat with the 4 blue Millacron pottersmate machines. He then showed us some of his stuff, said a lot, and submerged something in a bucket – which then made loud bubbling noises (and I noticed a lady clutching an umbrella); we were told that clay is 250 million years old; then he put a lump of clay on a wheel and said we’d be looking for something shaped like a bread roll when beginning, to keep our elbows down, that the clay has to be centered, and at 10.53am – a wheel began spinning. ‘You push and you shove’ and ‘always take your hands off nice and slowly’ (and not to undercut anything) was how we were advised to begin things; and at 10.57am he took his finger out of the clay and said ‘I’m just going to have to blow my nose, sorry’. By then Mum had made a start on what she said was a gravy boat…
When the wheel got going we were told to resist the temptation to do something I forgot (I forgot it because he remarked on how it was doing finger exercises physiotherapists advise) – and to keep elbows down, fingers on the inside and fingers on the outside, and to squeeze and lift while releasing the pressure; then that ‘shaping is a revelation for people’ and to celebrate our shape, get the water out before we stop, use the end of a credit card to scrape round the bottom, and run a wire under it (and thoroughly dry the wheel). Then his pot collapsed (and I noticed ‘passed’ stickers on the 4 wheels), we were shown several other things he’d made, he mentioned a video of 5 Japanese women working together on the same wheel to make something, and he said we’d be making snakes first and coiling them round plastic flower pots wrapped in greaseproof paper.
A woman mentioned making little Christmas trees out of clay; using flour to prevent sticking – rather than greaseproof paper – was mentioned by the man, and that solid lumps of clay would explode in the oven (and I was wondering if coils could be kept rather than smoothed off) (and how bigger things stick). It was 11.48am when clay began to be handed out, and I attempted the methods demonstrated, failed, and decided to do it my own way; and I’d made good progress on a small cat model by lunch time.
In a separate room at lunch time we were given photographic consent forms, people who’d paid for packed lunches got sandwiches, bottles of apple juice, crisps and kitkats; and my nose was hurting. At 1.15pm we were taken back in, and told that solid clay will explode in the oven (so I said I’d try and gouge the insides of my little cat out); 10 minutes later Mum was on a wheel and being repeatedly told ‘elbows down Anne’; I made an interesting abstract shape, then went over to the wheel, paid vague attention to what the bloke said – but decided to do it my own way, and seriously impressed him with my wiggly design (he said ‘I think that’s the best one I’ve seen all day’) (and something caused me to mention being scientific prior to the encephalitis and creative afterwards) – so I remained there playing around after the others returned to the table, where Mum was talking to a man – who’d made a penguin (he told her it was an Indian Runner Duck, she said ‘what are you going to call it?’ – and he said ‘Raspur’).
Coating our models in a 50% PVA glue/50% water mixture to seal it was mentioned – and then using acrylic paints for decoration. I kept messing around – but didn’t make much progress with my final lump and decided to turn it into a bauble; and before we left – the man wrote down my blog address and looked very interested.
I didn’t write anything on the drive home due to clutching the box of our clay creations – but I knew we’d made a quick stop in the town; and I forgot when we made it home as I began trying to rescue a couple of Mums creations and spent a bit longer with clay on my hands. I eventually sat down with my tiffin chunk, Soot the 20 year old cat had been strolling around and squeaking, came and sat on me (and purred), and by then – sunset (6.10pm) wasn’t far away.
