chill out! the meditative power of creating with clay.
There’s no better way To clear your mind Than by getting your hands dirty
if i had to pick one highlight of 2020, when we had to stay indoors, it’d be the joy and calmness that Clay Hands gave me. A friend of mine has been going to ceramic classes for about a year, and the works of art he produces, some practical, others not so much, are exquisite and downright impressive. The day he gifted me a vase that he’d made with his own hands was the day I thought to myself, ‘I should totally get into these clay classes too!’ Unfortunately, thoughts like this can form as quickly in your mind as they disappear. But if you’re stuck at home, the urge to be as fit, productive and creative as possible is a welcome distraction. When Clay Hands, which started as an in-studio ceramic class, began offering online courses, that sounded perfect to me. I knew getting my hands dirty, quite literally, was just what I needed in a time filled with boredom and anxiety. Not only did the classes allow me to express myself creatively; the physical act of working with my hands to create something tangible and sometimes functional was an extremely gratifying and wholesome experience. As soon as I started posting stories on Insta about the (basic) pinch pots I was making, I received an influx of interest. So, it got me thinking that if my mates on Insta were captivated and keen, then why not share it and allow an even wider audience to revel in the same meditative and calming process of making things out of clay. Everyone is born an artist; you need to ignite the flame. Clay Hands allows you to become familiar with some of the basics of creating with clay, such as pinching, coiling and slab construction. It designs courses for you to work at your own pace, from home, with guided projects incorporating each of the techniques. While it includes various wonderful and inspiring videos, the practicality of learning how to work with clay allows you to switch off your screen and get back into using your hands, which can be healing, meditative and therapeutic. While you’re kneading and sculpting, you learn that clay is earth, a type of
mud, if you like. It’s soft, receiving and so forgiving that it’s easy to forget the opposite nature of the process: fire, heat, shocks, expansion, variation, friction. Before clay becomes a ceramic, it must undergo a hefty right of passage, a firing of up to 1 200°C. Among many of the lessons you can learn through the art of clay, is that it teaches you patience and letting go as it tests you with inevitable flops, cracks, and unexpected and inexplicable surprises. This quote resonated with me as I feel it adequately describes the art of ceramics – hopefully, it will live, rent-free, in your mind too: “Working with clay is a tactile experience. There’s something incredibly humbling about forming earth into art.” There are no guarantees with this process, but the limits are endless – that’s the magic!
We chat to the founder of Clay Hands, Natascha Viljoen.
When Were you first introduced to the art of clay?
I’m a third-generation potter, though I never thought I’d end up getting into it as a career. It’s just always been a part of my life; there’s mud in my blood, as they say. I used to go to other peoples’ houses as a child and ask, “But, where’s your pottery studio?” So, for me, it’s as woven into my life as a kitchen is into someone else’s. Some of my earliest memories of clay are watching my mom, Lissa Claassens, trimming her pots – the little shapes the clay would make as she turned her wheel-thrown pieces captivated me. There were also many happy moments for my ‘gremlin’ friends and me, when we’d cover our bodies in clay, from head to toe. We attended classes with my mom and spent hours creating entire worlds out of clay – it’s such an immersive medium for children. I rekindled my interest with clay in my early 20s, gravitating toward its wonders and healing. I started an apprenticeship with my mom, which led me to open my studio from my lounge in 2017, and in the following year, the Clay Hands studio in Woodstock. As you can imagine, my parents home’s full of ceramic art. I was lucky to be dragged along to many exhibitions and markets where I saw the works of pottery giants such as Andile Dyalvane, Cias Bosch, Lisa Firer, Madoda Fani, Andrew Walford and Lesley-ann Hoets. Clay holds such duality for me. In the same breath, I can say that I appreciate the dedication it takes to master the art and craft of clay; but, I also think the real ‘art’ is its ability
“working at the wheel is a meditative practice for me”
to be accessible to anyone and work deeply as a healing medium.
can you remember the very first piece you made?
It was probably a fairy house or something. I still have a guinea fowl teapot that I’m rather proud of, and one of my favourite sculptures to date is one I made when I was seven of my dad and I sitting on the couch eating bolognese, spaghetti hanging out our mouths.
What’s your favourite part of the process?
I love how physical the entire process is. But it’s not only physical because it’s the most dynamic job ever. I fully grow all the aspects of self-working with clay. I feel most at peace when I’m trimming wheel-thrown pieces. I guess this fascination that started so young never left me. Working at the wheel is a meditative practice for me. I love it – it keeps me sane in this crazy world. I must say, there’s often a misconception that pottery is all meditation and ease, but working with heavy earth is labourintensive. I’ve had many frustrating moments and tired muscles, but with each firing process, the magic of the alchemy refuels me. I also love sharing the thrills, joys, wonder, and even heartbreaks, of clay with other people. That’s what inspired me to run a shared studio. Seeing the look on someone’s face as they receive their first piece back from the kiln after it’s been through this alchemical process of changing from a squishy, muddy mess into a glossy, stone-hard bowl that you can eat out of, is priceless. And it’s often meaningful because so much is involved in the process.
Who do you look to for inspiration?
I’ve never met someone as enthusiastic about their work as my mom, even after 40 years. I often look at my grandmother’s work, and all her old books.