Hands
Clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand. - Janet Fitch
Have you ever smelled wet dirt and loved it because it had the smell of roses?
Have you ever heard it dancing?
I have.
In a poterie in Avanos, Turkey during a trip.
Our guide had asked us to write about our experience, a specific person assigned to each day of the tour. My turn came on the sixth day when we visited Avanos which is set on the banks of the Kızılırmak Red River.
The town is noted for its carpet-weaving and tapestry-making craft, but it is the pottery and ceramics produced as far back as around 2,000 BC that it is most famous for. The Red River, which also happens to be one of the country’s longest rivers, has supplied many generations of craftsmen with the red clay used to create their iconic art.
This was what I wrote.
*******
Day 6, May 1997
At Avanos, in an unassuming poterie, we watched the creative process unfold in its most undiluted form - quietly, but masterfully.
Seated inside his rock-carved workshop, Galip presided over a lump of clay.
There was almost a reverent hush in the room punctuated only by the whirring of a foot-rotated wheel as the master craftsman and potter honed, shaped, refined, and turned out a properly proportioned covered teapot, capped by a perfectly fitted lid.
He breathed life into his creation with a puff into the teapot's spout. As its lid came off, he pronounced that it was good. Grinning widely, he additionally quipped, See, eet eez not difficult.
Then cupping in his hands a moistened clod of earth from the Red River, he invited us to listen to the sound of the earth.
*******
I remember how he trailed off, feeling like he was on the cusp of something. But I was clueless.
All I was thinking about at that time was the movie Ghost. Does Patrick Swayze now go up behind people in pottery classes and hug them just to crack up other ghosts?
My pathetically trivial thoughts aside, I did know.
The Avanos potter had just held earth in his hands.
And he made it dance.
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