For a while I taught beginners pottery in Devon and when people arrived for their first class, after introducing themselves, they’d always add a disclaimer such as they were very clumsy or not at all creative, their hands were too big or they were hopeless at art. In the beginning I tried to reassure them that they would be fine, but after a while I just smiled to myself because I knew what was going to happen!
Give anyone a chunk of clay and however scared they are of making a fool of themselves, they have to do something with it - it longs to be smoothed or poked or hollowed out and before long something personal will begin to appear that invites further exploration and then they are hooked because clay is wonderful stuff. As the course developed, I would see a person’s energy, self-belief and opinions about themselves start to change. My ‘very clumsy, not artistic, big handed’ students all produced pieces they were astonished by and completely thrilled with.
We might not be painting a masterpiece or knocking up a moon jar but we are all being creative all the time in most everything we do; from cooking to choosing what to wear, from hanging a picture on the wall to planting a flower in a pot. So why is it then that we are so hard on ourselves when it comes to creating in front of others? We instantly judge ourselves against some fictitious standard that doesn’t exist and I’m no different, but being mindfully creative is such a wonderful release allowing you to switch off and use your head, heart and hands.
My grandfather Ted lived through two world wars and fought in the first one. We know now that his go-to to relax was always art, his own, and he found solace and joy in whittling wood but he kept it very private and hardly anyone knew, as if he felt it was something to be ashamed of. He carved exquisitely life-like boats and animals, particularly fish, in miniature, which he painted and varnished, and which we discovered in his belongings after his death, like an afterthought about himself that had no real value. His daughter, my mother Jill, inherited his artistic gift but it was a different shape from his; if my brothers and I sat still for a moment she’d sketch us. She was extremely good and we became rather bored by the pictures she produced, in fact it became a bit annoying to be drawn all the time! I couldn’t draw in the way she could, just conjuring up a horse or dog out of her mind, so I didn’t consider myself to be artistic like her but of course I was; it’s just about finding the right medium in which to express yourself. It took me a while but eventually I did and it changed so many aspects of my life.. For anyone who thinks they are not creative I’d say, give it a go! Pick up a lump of clay, trust your own creativity and be truly amazed at yourself.