How I Came to Clay

In 2019 I was meant to move to Guatemala to head an English department at a small, education-based NGO. Though the prospect of discovering a new place and being immersed in Spanish -the language that continues to get away- was exciting, I was battling imposter syndrome in regards to being an educator. Though I’d lived in China as a teacher and then worked hiring teachers for five years, my only credentials were my TEFL certificate and the warm endorsements of my Chinese employers. On top of that, I knew I didn’t want to be a teacher, at least not in an academic sense.

Before moving down to Antigua, I’d agreed to return to China one last time to help start a new branch for my company in Chengdu, Sichuan. It was an amazing experience, particularly for the natural beauty, delicious spicy food, and the friendly, relaxed demeanor of my new friends and other locals.

Then Covid-19 hit only two provinces away.

In Chengdu we began hearing rumors of an illness, but all of my friends and coworkers waved it off, and I followed suit for a while. Then, suddenly, a picture of men in hazmat suits treating an infected person in Northern Sichuan began circulating on Chinese social media. As news of more infected reached Chengdu, people began wearing masks even on non-polluted days. Friends began avoiding stores and resorted to having their groceries and meals delivered. As the situation became more and more serious, my employers decided to take me to Chiang Mai, Thailand, for the Chinese Spring Festival holiday, also known as the greatest human migration event of the modern era.

(Above: Coworkers and friends celebrating Christmas in Chengdu)

Who could’ve known this time it would cause a global pandemic?

By now it was around February 2020. Though Covid-19 was a threat, we all assumed it would be isolated to China. The atmosphere in Thailand was relaxed. No one wore masks, and though my Chinese employers received looks here and there, mostly it was a blissful, tropical paradise bubble. But as the world became increasingly alarmed at the spreading virus, Donald Trump decreed that the US would shut its borders. I decided to book a flight back to North Carolina, leaving nearly all of my possessions in China. As I prepared to leave Thailand, I heard from the NGO in Guatemala that the US staff was evacuating due to the US embassy closing. It just wasn’t safe to be there anymore.

(Above: A motorcycle tour around the Chiang Mai Loop in Thailand with a new friend)

I returned to the US without my belongings, without a career, and suddenly, the country was in lockdown.

Now, I was blessed in 2020. While so many people were truly destitute or even faced death, I had a place to return to that was pretty safe. I became closer with my youngest siblings and threw myself into various hobbies to keep myself occupied while the world waited. I was able to attend my sister’s wedding. I even quit smoking. In spite of all the tragedy happening around me, I was sheltered from it and, in some ways, flourished.

(Above: My sister, Juliet, and I at her wedding

Nevertheless, like millions around the world, all that time spent isolating lead me to spirals of depression, anxiety, and insomnia as I fixated on the idea of the world beginning to turn again and I, at 29 and once again in my parent’s home, having nothing to return to. A conversation with a good friend on his pursuit of a second master’s degree sent me into a full-fledged panic attack as it hit me life would resume and I’d be without any ground to stand on.

I decided then to embrace the creative skills I knew I had as an artist

I’m a perpetual hobbyist, having tackled everything from baking to wood carving, delighting in trying something new each time and enjoying the challenge of creating something worth making. None of these other pursuits hit like pottery, however. I’d always had a gumption that I’d love making pottery, and though I initially found wheel work frustrating, I was soon spending all of my free time working with the clay, watching videos, and asking an infuriating number of questions.

(Left: One of the pieces from my first class)

Later, when I chose to pursue ceramic work as a career, the decision clicked into place within my mind and soul like it’d always been meant to be. I doggedly pursued the craft, spending hours in a freezing garage with just me, a wheel, and clay I’d recycled from the only class I’d taken 2.5 years before. The pressure to succeed was immense, and even now at times it feels like I’m just keeping my head above water.

(Above: My plaster wedging table, proudly assembled in a freezing cold garage in January 2021)

But I love it. And thanks to the incredible generosity of friends who are more like family, I’ve been given the stepping stones in order to pursue this craft as a career. With each plate, bowl, mug, vase, sculpture, and handcrafted form, I’m learning more and find myself falling more in love with this craft each day. I’m delighted to have come this far and to be able to share this passion of mine with all of you.

Thank you!

(Above: Giving a demo to my first student)