My sister started pottery lessons in March. It was a long time coming because she's always loved ceramics, and her mother-in-law has a collection easily exceeding those of most galleries or a small specialized museum. Not to mention our Mom is a bit of a connoisseur herself.
I'm so happy for her because I think she was a martyr to her two sons for the last 15 years, (OK, five,) and was becoming a little all-too-omnipresent mother, and our Mom has been trying to get her to find a hobby since Boy 2 started school. Sister did yoga for a wee while but it didn't last. Our biggest worry was she was never a boring or conventional girl before she became a mother, and we knew very well she needed a creative outlet.
This is one of the first two pieces she ever made. In her life. And it looks pretty good to me.
She's always been like that. Soon after she joined the high school band, she could and did sit in and play almost any instrument if they were short of players; one day she picked up a racket and started to play a proper game of tennis; in two years she spoke better French than me in my five; the first time she ever sat in a flower arrangement class she was asked how many years she'd been teaching.
I can almost see her direction. Her aesthetics is simpler than mine, less adorned, so I can see her going more natural, more accidental/serendipitous, (you can do that with pottery, I know,) and less shiny for sure.
For me, it was hard growing up with a sister 7 years younger who didn't seemed to need to learn or try hard at anything. Plus, she was calm, collected and mature; skinny, cute and nice. And a good cook!!
For her, it was hard growing up with a sister who constantly clashed with the parents, and our Mom telling her, "Thank goodness, you are such a good girl," almost every day. And feeling inadequate because she didn't pick up English as easily as I did; well, duh, she never lived in the US.
I love my sister, and I love that she finally started pottery. And this is a creative outlet our parents and her in-laws enjoy watching, discussing, and appreciating. And it was a long time coming.
The thing is, though, in spite of my having encouraged her alongside Mom, I kind of wish she'll never take up weaving. Because that's been the only thing Mom and I shared, and if Sister dabbles, she might be better than me, instantly. At least in my Mom's eyes. She was an incredible knitter, when she was in high school.
Oh, when do we grow up and be freed of our childhood fears and worries?