Monique Greer

First-Year Tips (from a Second-Year Clay Artist) 

Clay is a wonderful companion for anyone beginning a new chapter—especially those stepping into retirement or simply slowing down to rediscover creativity. Clay, after all, is ancient earth—humble, patient, and full of possibility. It reminds us that transformation takes time, and imperfections can become the most beautiful parts of what we create.
When I first began, I was used to structure, goals, and clear definitions of purpose. In the studio, I found something different—a space where time softens, where play and curiosity matter as much as precision. Working with clay is like working with life itself: you start with raw material, make-a-plan, build a foundation, and then, slowly, allow yourself to let go and see what happens. The clay always has a say in the process. It teaches patience, flexibility, and joy in the unexpected.

Right now, I think of myself as being at the bisque stage both as a clay artist and in my retirement—stronger than before, but still ready to absorb new color and wisdom. I’m learning to embrace those around me who share their knowledge generously while also trusting my own artistic choices. After all, it’s your hands, your heart, and your story shaping the clay. Lessons from the Wheel and the Table
· Clay takes time. When you run out of time or energy, wrap your piece carefully and let it rest. You can always return to it.
· Check in often. Clay dries at its own pace—sometimes faster, sometimes slower. Adjust as you go.
· Reflection is part of the process. Growth, in clay and in life, often comes when we pause and look again.
· Keep nails short. Clay prefers steady, even pressure—not gouges.
· Leave time for cleanup. It always takes longer than you think! That extra time is also a moment to reflect and adjust.
· It’s okay to start over—or not. Both choices are valid.
· Some things can be repaired, some can’t—and that’s okay too.
· Clay is both intentional and accidental. Be brave enough to experiment, ask questions, and embrace mistakes.
· Find your people. Notice the artists who inspire you. Ask about their techniques. Share your own discoveries.
· Take notes and photos. You’ll be glad you did when inspiration strikes again.
· Wear a great apron—and expect a little clay everywhere. The smudges and dust are proof that you’re creating something real, something from the earth.
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So, welcome to your first year with clay. Be patient with yourself, stay curious, and let the process shape you as much as you shape it. Every piece holds a story—and every story begins with just a handful of dirt and a little bit of courage.

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