Splat.
Pat.
Pound.
Whump.
Sounds like the pottery class for beginners at Freeland’s Whidbey Clay Center is underway.
Six students take a whack at shaping a chunk of clay as instructor Jordan Jones talks about a shaping technique known as wedging.
“Pat it into a ball,” she says, demonstrating on a high table of taut canvas specifically designed for plying and pounding wet clay. “Wedging is basically like kneading bread dough but not adding air into it. You want to get rid of any air bubbles.”
Jones rocks the 2-pound clay ball onto the table and flattens it into a fat log. She then presses the top end down and into the center, rolls and presses again and again until she says the sides resemble a ram’s head.
“We don’t want this little piece of clay to bully us,” she tells the class. “You want to press down but not too much. I want the clay to have a response to what I’m saying.”
Learning the art of ram’s head wedging is the first indication that this six-week beginning pottery class might better be called: “Mucking About in Mud: It’s Fun but it’s Complicated.”
After wedging comes the mastering of so many other steps — centering, throwing, opening up, knuckling up, lifting off, trimming, decorating, burnishing, glazing, bisque firing and finally the final firing. This can be completed in myriad ways involving wood, electric or gas kilns, or via the Japanese Raku method involving lifting red hot pots out of scalding cauldrons with tongs and heavy-duty gloves.
So as her students sit down and nervously stare down a pottery wheel for what is the first time for most, Jones offers some reassurance. “Clay is very humbling,” she says. “Maybe what you make is a flop. But you can remake it. It’s just mud. We’re just having fun.”
A hub, classroom and community
Simply titled “Wheel Classes with Jordan Jones,” the Whidbey Clay Center’s Wednesday evening class takes place in a sprawling combination studio, gallery and teaching space that opened in November 2023 following the expansion and renovation by current owner Cara Jung. Members of the studio pay $135 monthly for 24-hour access to equipment, tools, firing services, participation in special events and storage space.
With eight pottery wheels, two electric kilns, shelves of countless glazes, stains, tools and ample areas for preparing and sculpting clay, the big bright white center is packed with everything that big city ceramic studios offer.
And like other clay centers regionally and nationally, classes are full and there’s a wait list to get in. Every day of the week — and many evenings — Whidbey Clay Center is abuzz with energy, ideas, tricks, tips, community, conversation and camaraderie.
“Clay is having a day, indeed,” remarks instructor Karen Abel as she prepares for Thursday’s clay sculpting class. “Clay has never gone away but it seems to really be having a comeback.”
Getting out of the house and the need for social interaction following COVID restrictions explains some of the increased interest in beginner pottery workshops. (The Washington Clay Arts Association, a statewide pottery group, reports its membership has doubled to more than 600 members since 2018.)
But for Whidbey’s longtime potters who depended on craft and art shows for their income, COVID cancellations left them product rich and cash poor.
“It’s a riverboat gambler’s style of life,” says Dan Ishler, 76, known for his Oak Harbor studio where he’s been crafting sleek ceramic coffee mugs, bowls, vases, small cars and other quirky pieces since 2002.
“You pay booth fees and for all the material to make your pieces up front. COVID really knocked a lot of artists out but I was fortunate I’d given up shows.”
Ishler counts himself among the old-timer clay artists of Whidbey — along with Al Tennant and Cook on Clay’s Robbie Lobell and Maryon Attwood — who offer kiln space, advice and a sense of community to newcomers of the craft. Jordan Jones spent two years with Cook on Clay’s Zakin Apprenticeship, learning the flameware manufacturing process and skills needed to run her own studio.
“Whidbey Island now touts its own homegrown crop of potters,” Attwood says. “We’ve trained a number of young women to become potters. Our goal was to create more community. I’m proud of my participation in that.”
Ceramics also tends to be a solo pursuit requiring expensive equipment. So when Jung tripled the size of the Freeland studio space, it didn’t take long for Whidbey’s far-flung potters to fast track it to the fully-equipped communal space. Paying membership increased to 70 from six over three years, she says.
When the newly formed Whidbey Pottery Salon first met last year, many in the crowd of 65 attendees were seeing the center for the first time.
“We couldn’t believe the turnout,” says Lindsey Strand-Polyak, who started the salon meetings with Jill Lipoti. “We knew there were lots of potters on Whidbey working away in their own studios but we needed to be able to connect them.”
A start-up grant from the Whidbey Island Arts Council helped the volunteer salon group create a website, recruit participants and pay expenses of visiting workshop presenters.
“You can’t control the outcome”
Potters love to talk shop, Lipoti says, because much of the pottery process is solving problems.
Pots slump, pinholes poke through glazes, sculptures tip over in the kiln.
“Here’s where the Whidbey Pottery Salon steps in,” she explains. “Here is the opportunity for potters who are at the Whidbey Clay Center or (who are) solo artists to get together. The best way to move forward is to crowd source solutions. So obviously, you need a crowd.”
The tiring tirade of technology and 24/7 information streams into our lives is also leading Americans to rediscover the ancient art that derives from the earth.
“Working with clay is such an escape,” says Jung, who creates odd, voluminous shapes molded from everyday objects, such as balloons, balls, plastic toys. “You have to be so present, especially with wheel work. It’s also really slow, painstakingly slow. You have to work through all the steps. Then wait for the kiln.”
Strand-Polyak, who plays violin and viola with Seattle Baroque Orchestra, loves the concentration required of clay. “It forces you not to multitask, which is sad to say, something we have to force ourselves to do these days.”
As they meticulously shape, sculpt and study their respective pieces of clay, the trio of Whidbey artists comments on the fragility and futility of pursuing their beloved craft.
Sometimes they love it. Then they loathe it.
Mostly, it’s beautiful. But also so brutal.
“You can’t control the outcome,” Strand-Polyak says.
“Until it’s out of the kiln,” Abel adds.
“But not even then,” reminds Jung. “You can drop it. All that work, gone.”
If you go
Whidbey Clay Center, 1664 Main St., Freeland.
Phone: 206-550-5932
Email: whidbeyclaycenter@gmail.com
Each student starts with a 25-pound chunk of clay to begin with pounding, rolling and shaping the clay at the Whidbey Clay Center in Freeland. (Patricia Guthrie / Special to The Herald)
Pottery class begins with pounding, rolling and shaping the clay at the Whidbey Clay Center in Freeland. (Patricia Guthrie / Special to The Herald)
Pottery class begins with pounding, rolling and shaping the clay at the Whidbey Clay Center in Freeland. (Patricia Guthrie / Special to The Herald)
