Last September I signed up for a wheel-throwing ceramics class thinking I would be able to make a set of dinner plates. I had big plans to write a piece about my experience: a photo of a stack of serene white plates, a little wabi-sabi of course, not perfect, but complete, heavy and unique. I knew there would be some bumps along the way, but I fully expected to succeed and have a great story to tell. My enthusiasm came from a sense of being lifted up as I answered a call from the pottery angels, three friends in particular who surround me, and gently nudged me to learn to throw.





































