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Electives · Planning

Sometimes pottery needs a plan. Sometimes the magic is in not having one.

There are two kinds of night at the wheel, and most frustration in a studio comes from having the wrong one. A set of six mugs, a lid that has to fit, a commission for a friend, a planter for a specific plant: those nights need a sketch, a number, a clay weight and a schedule, and treating them as play produces four mugs that do not match. But a new form, a bag of clay and no idea, a slump you cannot throw your way out of: those nights need the plan taken away, and treating them as work produces careful, dead pots. The skill is knowing which night you are having.

This page covers the pieces that always need a plan and why, what a real plan looks like when it fits on one notebook page, the nights that need no plan at all and how to play in a way that actually teaches you something, and the middle path most working potters live on, where the parts that must fit are planned and everything else is not. Four videos, and how the studio makes both kinds of night easier.

This is the short version: which pieces need a plan, what a plan is, and how to play well. The reasoning, the questions and three of the four videos are in the comprehensive version.

1Notebook page. A plan that needs more than one is a plan you will not follow
10Of the same form in a night, each one different, is how a no-plan night earns its keep
x4Videos, from potters who do not work here
x2Lists to keep in your bag: what to plan, and how to play
Jump to a section

Which nights need a plan, what a plan is, how to play, the middle path, and four videos.

Read it, then watch it

Why this is written down and filmed, both.

This is a page about judgement, and judgement is mostly words: which pieces need what, and why, and what happens when you get it wrong. A list of the things that need a plan is a list, and a list is what a page is for. But a plan being made is something you have to see: a potter drawing a form, adjusting a line, writing a number next to it, and then throwing that exact pot. Watching that once teaches more about what a sketch is for than any paragraph.

So read the two lists first, and then watch a potter go from a drawing to a pouring bowl. Reading gives you the categories and watching gives you the feel of a plan being obeyed, and people who do both remember the whole idea rather than one half of it. Then go to the wheel with a decision already made about which kind of night it is.

Use both, in this order

The two lists first. Then the first video, which is a plan being drawn and then thrown. Then a notebook page, or a bag of clay and nothing.

The whole idea

Some pieces have parts that have to fit. Everything else is allowed to surprise you.

If two things have to fit each other, match each other, or fit a thing that already exists, the piece needs a plan: a sketch, a size, a clay weight, and a schedule for drying and firing. If nothing has to fit anything, the piece is allowed to become whatever it becomes, and planning it kills it. Most working potters do both in the same evening: the set is planned to the quarter inch, and the handles are pulled by feel. Decide which night it is before you sit down.

The first list

Pieces that always need a plan, whatever it feels like.

Pieces that always need a plan.

The rule underneath all of these: if a part has to fit another part, match another piece, or fit a thing that already exists, wanting it to work out is not a method.

If a part has to fit, match, or meet something that already exists, it needs a plan.

Anything in a setFour bowls, six mugs, a stack of plates. The eye forgives almost nothing on a set. Same clay weight, same height, same rim, measured with a stick and a gauge every time. Our proportions lesson is the arithmetic.
Anything with a lidA lid is a second pot that has to fit the first after both have shrunk. That needs a measurement, a shrinkage number, and two pieces made the same night from the same clay. There is no improvising a gallery.
Anything with partsTeapots, spouts, knobs, feet, handles on a jug. Parts made on different nights from different clay at different stiffness fall off. A plan is mostly a schedule.
A commission, or a gift with a jobA ramen bowl for a friend who eats ramen. A planter for that plant. A mug that fits a particular hand. Something out in the world already has the dimensions, and you have to go and get them.
Anything bigBig pieces eat clay, shelf space and kiln space, and cost real money to fire. Twelve pounds of clay thrown with no plan is twelve pounds of reclaim. Know the height, the weight and the firing cost before you open the bag.
Anything with a deadlineA wedding in six weeks means the piece has to be glazed in four, bisqued in three, dry in two and made this week. Work backwards from the day and the plan writes itself.
Anything with a specific glaze in mindIf the pot only works in that one green over that one texture, the tile comes first. A plan that ends at the wheel is half a plan.
A form you have made a hundred timesThis one surprises people. Once a form is yours, planning it is free: you know the weight, the height, the moves. A plan for a known form is just repeating yourself on purpose, which is what a signature is.

One page

What a plan actually is, and why it fits on one page.

Not a spreadsheet. A notebook page you can prop against the splash pan.

A plan is five things. A sketch, in profile, with the rim, the widest point and the foot drawn as lines you can compare, because a pot is mostly its silhouette and a silhouette is easy to draw. A size, written next to the sketch as the fired height and width you want, and then the wet size after shrinkage, which for our clays at cone 5½ is roughly twelve percent more. A clay weight, from the last time you threw something that size, or from the proportions lesson. A schedule, which is when it dries, when it gets its parts, when it goes in the bisque, and when you glaze. And a glaze decision, which means a tile you have already seen.

That is the whole thing. The sketch does not need to be good; it needs to have the proportions you are aiming for so you can hold it next to the wet pot and see whether you are there. Potters who draw badly draw the same five lines and the pots come out right, because the sketch was never for anyone else.

  1. 1The sketchProfile only. Rim, belly, foot, as three widths you can compare. Add the lid or the handle if there is one.
  2. 2The sizeFired height and width, then wet height and width. Twelve percent more is close enough for most of our clays; measure a shrinkage bar once and know for sure.
  3. 3The weightFrom the last pot this size, or from the proportions lesson. Written down so the next one in the set uses the same number.
  4. 4The scheduleThrown, trimmed, parts on, dry, bisque, glaze, fire. Backwards from the day it is needed, with the studio’s kiln rhythm in mind.
  5. 5The glazeA tile you have seen, with its number, and the coats. If you have not seen it, the plan starts with making the tile.

The plan is allowed to be wrong

The first pot in a set is where the plan meets the clay. If the number was off, change the number, not the pot, and make the rest of the set to the corrected page. A plan is a hypothesis with a clay weight on it.

The second list

The nights that need no plan at all.

The nights that need no plan.

The rule underneath these: if nothing has to fit anything, a plan is a set of expectations, and expectations are what you are trying to get rid of.

If nothing has to fit anything, take the plan away on purpose.

Learning a new formThe first ten of anything are not pots, they are information. Plan them and every one is a failure against the plan. Do not plan them and every one is a fact about the form.
A bag of clay and an eveningSome nights the only brief is to be at the wheel. Those nights make the pots you did not know you could make, and they make nothing if you bring a list.
Being stuckWhen the planned pots keep dying, the plan is usually the problem. A night of throwing whatever the clay wants breaks the loop faster than a better plan does.
Finding your shapesNobody sketches their way to a signature form. They throw two hundred bowls, keep the six they keep looking at, and then plan those. The looking comes first. Our do it your way lesson is about the looking.
New glazes, new clay, new toolsThe first evening with a new material is a test, not a piece. Play with it on things you do not care about, and log what happened.
Trimming into a form you did not throwA pot that came off the wheel as one thing and gets trimmed into another is where a lot of potters find their best work. You cannot plan that; you can only leave enough clay on the foot to allow it.

Playing well

No plan is not the same as no rules.

A no-plan night with no structure produces a pile of pots and no lesson. Four habits keep the play honest.

  1. 1One form, ten times, each one differentPick a cylinder, a bowl, a bottle. Throw ten with the same clay weight and change one thing on each: the rim, the belly, the foot, the height. At the end, line them up. The one you keep looking at is the one to plan next week.
  2. 2Follow the clay instead of correcting itA wobble becomes a lobed rim. A collapse becomes a wide low bowl. A too-thick wall becomes a carved surface. On a plan night those are mistakes; on a play night they are the whole point, and the pot that follows them is usually the best of the ten.
  3. 3Keep the rejects for a weekDo not wire off and reclaim the ones you do not like on the night. Put them on the shelf under a sheet and look at them on the next visit, when you are not the person who made them. Half of the good ones are in that group.
  4. 4Do not glaze play pots the same nightPlay pots want play glazing, which is its own night, with its own tiles. A play pot glazed in a hurry with the safest glaze on the wall is a play pot that taught you nothing twice.
The set matches because it was planned. The handles sing because they were not.

Most nights

The middle path: plan the parts that must fit, and let go of everything else.

This is where almost every working potter actually lives.

A set of six mugs is planned to the quarter inch: same weight, same height, same rim. And then the handles are pulled by feel, one at a time, each one a little different, because a handle does not have to match anything except the hand that will hold it. A lidded jar has a gallery measured with calipers and a knob that got made up on the spot. A commission has the dimensions the friend gave you and a surface that was decided by what the clay did when you carved it. In every one of those pieces the plan covers exactly the parts that would fail without it, and stops there.

That is the whole skill of this page: not choosing between planning and playing, but knowing which part of the pot in front of you is which. The rim of a lidded jar is a plan. The belly of the same jar is play. Do the plan first, while your attention is sharp, and let the play happen in the parts that are allowed to.

A set of mugs

Planned: weight, height, rim diameter, clay. Played: the handles, the trimmed foot, the glaze on the last two.

A lidded jar

Planned: the gallery, the lid, the clay, the night both are made. Played: the belly, the knob, the surface.

A commission

Planned: the dimensions, the deadline, the glaze from a tile. Played: everything the client did not mention.

A planter

Planned: the roots, the hole, the inside. Played: the rim, the outside, the texture. Our planters lesson is exactly this split.

Watch it done

Now watch a plan get drawn and then obeyed.

Watch this one, then decide which night it is.

None of these people work here or know we exist. Between them they cover the sketch, the profile, the lines a form is made of, and the notebook habit. Nobody films a night without a plan, because there is nothing to film; that half you have to go and have. The still frames load while you read; the player and its cookies wait until you press play.

Twenty-two minutes from a pencil line to a pouring bowl. The other three videos are in the comprehensive version.

Start here: a plan being drawn, then thrownMy Design Process, From Sketch to Pouring BowlFlorian Gadsby
Twenty-two minutes from a pencil line to a finished pouring bowl. The clearest look anywhere at what a one-page plan is for and how closely it gets followed. Watch on YouTube
How to draw a pot you cannot drawHow I Draw & Design Pottery, Tips & TricksFlorian Gadsby
The profile-only sketch, the three widths, and why the drawing does not need to be good. Sixteen minutes, and the practical half of the band above. Watch on YouTube
Where the eye goes on a potBetter Pottery Designs With These Simple Line Tricks!Little Street Pottery
Eleven minutes on the lines that make a form read well, which is what a sketch is trying to get right before the clay is involved. Watch on YouTube
Keeping the notebook alive10 tips for starting your sketchbook, and keeping it going!Sketchbook Skool
Not a potter. Seventeen minutes on the habit of a sketchbook, which is the habit a plan page lives in. Skip to what applies. Watch on YouTube

How it works here

Both kinds of night, and what the building does to each.

This page is written for potters everywhere. Here is where our studio stands.

Three things to know here

Class nights are short and shelves are shared, so a plan here includes when the piece dries and when it fires. The Mega Glaze Tool and the Glaze Bible let you plan a glaze from a tile before you throw. And a bag of clay with no plan is always allowed; the wheels, slab rollers and slab molds are open to every Level, and nobody is grading the rejects.

A plan includes the calendar

A class night is a few hours and a piece dries on a shared shelf for days between them. A plan here is mostly a schedule: thrown this visit, trimmed next, handle the one after, bisque, glaze, fire. Work backwards from the day you need it and add a week.

Plan the glaze from a tile

Every glaze on the wall is already fired onto a numbered tile, in the Glaze Bible by the mold room and in the Mega Glaze Tool on your phone. Decide the glaze before you throw, and the pot gets made for it.

Plan the firing cost

Glaze firing is five cents a cubic inch with a $4.80 minimum. A big planned piece is a known number before you open the bag; a big unplanned one is a surprise at the front desk.

Play is welcome

Wheels, slab rollers and slab molds are open to every Level, and nobody counts your rejects. Reclaim is free. A night of ten cylinders you cut in half to look at the walls is a normal night here.

Keep the rejects a week

Shelf space is shared, so keep play pots to one bat under a sheet, name and date on the bat, and decide next visit. A bat of unlabeled bowls reads as abandoned.

Ask which kind of night

The onsite instructor will tell you whether the thing you want to make tonight needs a plan. Lids, sets and teapots always do, and it saves an evening to hear it before you center.

Questions people actually ask

The ones that come up at the wheel.

How do I know which kind of night it is?

Ask whether any part of the piece has to fit, match, or meet something that already exists. If yes, plan. If no, do not. Most nights are both: plan the part that has to fit, play with the rest.

Do I have to be able to draw?

No. A plan sketch is a profile with three widths: rim, belly, foot. Nobody else sees it. Potters who draw badly draw those three lines and the pots come out right.

How much bigger do I throw for shrinkage?

Roughly twelve percent for most of our clays fired to cone 5½. Throw a ruler line into a scrap slab, fire it, and measure once to know your clay exactly.

What if the plan keeps producing bad pots?

The plan is usually wrong about the clay weight or the height, not about the idea. Change the number on the page after the first pot and make the rest to the corrected page. If the pots are technically fine and still bad, the problem is the plan itself, and a night without one is the fix.

Is play a waste of clay?

Only if you reclaim the pots before you have looked at them. Ten of one form, kept a week, is the fastest way to find the shape that is yours. Reclaim is free here.

Can I plan a set and still play?

That is the whole middle path. Plan the weight, height and rim so the set matches. Pull the handles by feel. The set matches because it was planned; the handles are alive because they were not.

What about glazing? Plan or play?

Plan it from a tile for anything that matters. Play it on a night of its own, on pots you do not care about, and log what happened. Our test tile lesson covers both halves.

That is the whole thing

Plan the parts that have to fit. Let go of everything else.

The potters whose work you admire are not more disciplined than you and they are not more free. They have learned to be both, on different nights, and sometimes in different halves of the same pot. The set matches because it was planned. The handles sing because they were not.

If you want the reasoning behind each list, the middle path, the questions and the other three videos, switch to the comprehensive version at the top. Otherwise, decide which night this is, and go have it on purpose.

Written for potters everywhere. Where our studio does things differently, the page says so.