Making Peace with Imperfection: Pottery Taught Me to Chill

I started taking pottery classes a little over a year ago simply because I wanted an excuse to get out of the house at least once a week and try something new.

I figured it would be relaxing. Maybe even meditative.

Spoiler: it isn’t.

At least not at first.

What it has been is unexpectedly helpful in tackling something I think most creatives wrestle with—perfectionism.

Pottery looks chill.

It’s not.

You know those Instagram videos where someone effortlessly centers clay on the wheel and it comes out perfect? Lies.

Throwing clay is trying to mold a wet, spinning lump of dirt that actively resists your every move. It wobbles. It slumps. It fights back. You think you’ve got it, and then—splat—it folds in on itself and you realize you should have stopped one second sooner. Hand building is a little more manageable, but I could spend hours trying to smooth out fingerprints or erasing slab roller marks that somehow survive every tool.

My first few classes were humbling. I’d sit there, determined to make the perfect little bowl, and instead end up with something that looked like it belonged in a “Pinterest fails” post. I’d try again. Still weird. Still bumpy. Maybe worse.

The part of me that loves clean lines, polished work, and “just one more round of edits before we share it” was screaming.

The shift

Eventually, I had to make a decision: keep obsessing or... stop taking it so seriously. I had to remind myself this was supposed to be fun. No one’s grading me. No one’s asking me to open a pottery shop.

So I started caring less about the end result and more about the process that got me there. What if I didn’t try to fix that weird dent? What if I just let the glaze do its thing? What if the mug had... a little personality?

It didn’t make me instantly better at pottery (I’m still trimming through the bottoms of bowls on the regular), but it made the whole thing way more enjoyable. I was less stressed. Less critical. Weirdly proud of my lopsided pieces. 

They weren’t perfect, but they were mine. And also—they technically could hold liquid, so… I’d call it a success.

You can’t fall in love with it too soon

One thing I’ve learned: you can’t fall in love with a piece until it’s completely finished. It doesn’t matter how good it looks on the wheel—clay cracks, glaze drips, explosions happen in the kiln. Sometimes the piece you were sure was the one comes out of the final firing looking like it went through something traumatic experience.

And sometimes, the bowl you were about to toss in the reclaim bucket turns out surprisingly beautiful.

You just don’t know until it’s done.

That’s been a surprisingly helpful reminder outside the studio too. Sometimes you’ve got to stop tweaking, let things run their course, and see how it turns out before making the final call.

It quiets the noise

One of the other things I didn’t expect? The silence.

The studio is filled with chatter, whirring wheels, and every now and then the occasional frustrated sigh but my mind is silent. When I’m working with clay, my brain shifts into a different mode. The constant mental noise—deadlines, drafts, decisions—fades into the background.

Maybe it’s because I have to focus. But I think it’s mostly because I’ve let go of needing it to be perfect. It is a version of unchained creativity I didn’t realize I needed. Just me, the clay, and whatever weird little dish we end up making together.

Still a perfectionist. Just a softer one.

Somewhere in all this clay-related chaos, something started to shift in how I work outside the studio.

I became a little more okay with things not being 100% perfect all the time. That design I kept nudging pixel by pixel? I sent it off. That concept I wasn’t totally sure about yet? I shared it anyway.

I’m not suddenly immune to perfectionism. I still wanna deliver the best product, but now I’ve got these small, slightly off-center bowls in my kitchen that remind me it doesn’t have to be perfect to be successful.

Imperfect can be impactful. 

Thinking about picking up a hobby? I highly recommend pottery.

Just... don’t get too attached to your first mug.