Every six-week course starts the same way: twenty minutes in, someone asks when we get to use the wheel. Not yet. First we wedge.
The clay tells you when it’s ready
Wedging looks like kneading bread and feels like an argument you slowly win. You push, the clay pushes back, and somewhere in the rhythm your shoulders drop and your breathing evens out. That’s the state you throw from — not the strength, the patience.
By week three nobody asks to skip it. By week six some students tell me it’s their favourite part, and I pretend to be surprised.