hey y’all,

i just got back from a trip to the west coast, and i’m excited to share some photos and coffee reviews. here’s a sneak peek. let me know if you recognize this rock formation.

it was truly one of the most beautiful places i’ve ever seen, and i’m a snob about the east coast. it was a whole week without writing, sculpting, throwing; creating of any kind. i really need that kind of reset every now and then, especially in the summer.

i write about this every year, but i’m at my worst in the summertime. my most depressed, my least inspired, my most lethargic, etc. etc. summer 2026 is teaching me to embrace that part of me too. it’s okay to have cycles and seasons. i’ve been feeling some urgency around my creative practice, and my pottery class last night was a remedy.

it was a one-night-only wheel throwing intensive with the extremely talented and contagiously playful jess sanford. since i opted for a studio pass this session, i’m not currently enrolled in a weekly class. i took this one-time class because it advertised a disruption of your muscle memory to improve your core cylinder. for those unfamiliar, the cylinder is the foundation for everything on the potter’s wheel. it’s the first fundamental you have to tackle to be able to do anything else.

i’m incredibly proud of the progress i’ve made in two years. the pots i’m making now are so clean and consistent, compared to where i started. but, it’s true that the better you get at something, the more you find you don’t know. simultaneously, the more you find wrong with your vessels. i’ve been struggling with thin rims and fat bottoms lately, so i thought a refresh and a shake-up was in order.

craft reflections

when i arrived, jess described the session as “cylinder bootcamp.” i love a challenge, and i love structure, and jess brought both. over the course of two hours, we threw and threw away no less than 8 cylinders. i won’t give away her trade secrets, but i will tell you the proof was in the pudding. at the start of class, i was most comfortable at around 1 pound of clay. by the end of class, i’d thrown an even cylinder with consistent walls and proportionate bottom with 2.5 (!!) pounds of clay. it was the largest cylinder i’d ever made.

the core elements were intention, repetition, and constraints. in a writing class recently, my instructor shared a philosophy around craft that made a lot of sense to me: artists can find immense growth, creativity, and inspiration when operating under constraints. i am extremely resistant to authority (shocker), and equally resistant to parameters. i must be free, goddammit!! but my freedom often comes at the cost of discipline and consistency. focusing on one single form, in a 3 hour window, under specific weight and time constraints resulted in the best form i’ve thrown.

soul reflections

outside of the craft itself, i also left with some interior reflections. i’m no longer scared of the clay. by that i mean, i have a true relationship with it now. i can feel how plastic it is, if it’s too watered down, if it’s unevenly wedged, if i’m putting too much pressure, or if i’m just not grounded enough to throw well. i’m not scared to make mistakes, and i’m not letting the clay dictate my actions. i don’t get escalated when trying something new, and i don’t feel self-conscious throwing in front of others.

jess had to cut me off a few times because i was taking too long on a single form. there were a few of us who kept laboring away, long after we should have put the sponge and rib down. she clocked me as both an intentional thrower and a perfectionist. she specifically told me to work on letting go of making a perfect form and to focus on consistency.

instead of feeling the white hot shame on my cheeks, i felt delighted at being recognized as a slow maker. i am a slow maker! i take pride in that. i don’t rush the process; i take the time to do things right. but, i can (and often do) overdo it. i sometimes straighten my walls one too many times, until my forms are so flimsy they fall apart.

there was a time, not that long ago, when frustration and humiliation was easily accessible. in fact, it was my default. any outside observation of me felt like an attack, and any imperfection felt like failure. i lacked confidence, because ultimately i lacked self-worth. i’ve been doing a self-worth bootcamp in 2026, and there have been small moments like these that have shown me it’s paying off. i’m worth investing in my craft, and i’m also worthy of enjoying the process of making regardless of the outcome.

global reflections

i’m making my way back to the playful, good-natured, and earnest version of myself that has been hiding under a thick wall of armor. i genuinely would not have rediscovered him without pottery, and specifically claymakers. having a community space to go to every week has renewed my connection with humanity, after almost a decade of progressive alienation. i always have someone to chat with, or learn from, or quietly body-double with. i’m part of the fabric, and it matters.

i recently helped paint the new gallery that claymakers just built, and i feel proud to have contributed to this next chapter of the studio. i’m also now a monthly sustainer at $10/month. it isn’t much, but it isn’t nothing. i realized recently that my relationship to claymakers is a tangible example of living my values; in particular, relating to others through a filipino lens.

in the west, we often hear “you can’t pour from an empty cup”. i learned from dr. nette (the brown psych) that in indigenous filipino ways of relating, we say “if we have some, we share.” this doesn’t mean we overextend beyond our boundaries, it simply means that we share what we can with others as a matter of relational practice. it is the opposite of american individualism, which so often demands that we hoard our resources for catastrophe.

as i’ve been reconnecting with my heritage and understanding the world through sikolohiyang pilipino, i’ve recently been studying the concept of hindi ibang tao ("one-of-us"). in essence, hindi ibang tao provides a framework for relating to those we are close to. it also serves as a way of understanding the way we already relate to others, but maybe lacked the language.

in specific, pakikipagkaisa has helped me orient myself around my relationship to claymakers. pakikipagkaisa can be loosely translated to mean “being one with others.” or, fellowship. i know it’s so out-of-fashion to provide a dictionary definition, but i think it’s worth it this time:

fellowship (n)

the companionship of individuals in a congenial atmosphere on equal terms.

eg. “voracious reader who found fellowship in a book club.”

equal terms. last time, i wrote about the ways organizing can alienate you from yourself and others. as activists and organizers, we spend so much time thinking about injustice that it can be easy to feel permanently subjugated. my relationship to claymakers reminds me that subjugation is being enacted upon me by many systemic forces, but it is not an immutable fact of my existence.

by contributing to the success and sustainability of claymakers, i’m investing not only in myself but other makers too; past and present. it doesn’t have to be grand. it doesn’t even have to be recognized by anyone other than yourself. choose to be one with others, and your dignity cannot be taken from you.

xoxo,

kuya von

p.s.

i made an instagram for my ceramics. i’d love if you checked it out!