Learn how one fellow potter, following a traumatic medical event in which mobility was compromised, is making her way back to clay and managing the tools and space in a ceramic studio.
I stumbled into the world of ceramics after participating in a raku-firing workshop at a local college. I was hooked. Luckily, that was in Minnesota, where the clay runs strong, and investigating the subject further was natural and easy. I kept my hands in the clay in one form or another, from Minnesota to the Southernmost Point of the US, and then back north to the coastal Northeast, and south again to Durham, North Carolina.
A New Reality
Almost seven years ago, I had a brain bleed that changed my life completely. My left side lost all strength and function. I relearned to walk and to do things one-handed that I had done daily using both hands, as I cannot lift, hold, or steady things with my left hand at all. My peripheral vision on the left is also compromised, keeping me from driving or spending much time in front of the computer. Walking, balance, and endurance are now, and will most likely remain, challenging for me.
I was too busy adjusting to my new reality to think about pottery, so it did not come to mind until a good friend told me about the classes she was taking at a local community ceramic arts studio in Durham. She knew that my partner and I had worked in clay in the past, and she encouraged me to think about what I could do in clay now, rather than what I could not, and take some classes with her. Initially, I dismissed the idea, feeling too raw over the loss of so much of my normal. After thinking it over, working with clay seemed like a good form of therapy for my left hand (and my brain in general). I figured, even though I may not have the strength to do wheel work again, if I considered things from a fresh perspective and started over from the beginning, I could relearn to handbuild with clay, keeping my current abilities in mind, and let the process unfold organically into something new.
Searching for Adaptive Tools
Thus began my return to a life including clay, and the quest for accessibility and adaptive tools in the ceramic world. While searching, I found that both adaptive tools for creators and safe, welcoming spaces to work are of high importance to people with different abilities.
With the exceptions of ways to adapt the potter’s wheel for use with a wheelchair and the brilliant Strong Arm Pottery Tool, there are not a ton of tools specifically for adaptive ceramics out there that I have found (I hope someone proves me wrong here); however, there always seems to be something that can be used in a way that assists in the process. As many have found, the kitchen, the recycling bin, and the thrift store are great places to find such tools. Looking at adaptive tools for other things and imagining them for ceramic processes that require a specific tool is a good starting point. For example, I ended up using an adaptive cutting board concept I developed in my kitchen to hold items as I worked on them. The board holds things steady with either a vice or some spikes to keep roly-poly veggies still, so I can slice them without having to hold onto them with my weak hand. I don’t employ spikes for clay projects, but the vice-grip idea from that board is very useful when I need a piece held while I take a tool to it.
As per usual, the simplest things seem to work best. I use a large cleaning sponge to set leather-hard pieces on while I am in the carving stage (it holds the piece where I need it, but has a little give), That same sponge doubles as an easel, holding pieces at a good angle while I am glazing. I started using an empty box to hold the left side of slab-built objects while attaching slabs into 90-degree connections. If I am working on something larger, those big produce boxes are super sturdy. For something smaller, packing corners work great for a left-hand support replacement, both the foam ones and the heavy-duty cardboard ones. I now embrace using an interesting thrift-store bowl or platter as a slump or hump mold. It has opened new trains of thought that I may have never had if I were not looking for novel ways to create in my current circumstances.
Finding a Workspace
As for welcoming and safe spaces, there are some good guidelines/conversations out there as resources. We Are Not Invisible (wearentinvisible.org) has a basic guide that covers it.
As far as a physical working space, a level floor with no tripping hazard spots and wide walkways is a great basic start. Since my situation makes carrying things tricky, I get help to carry bags of clay and in-progress projects on large ware boards, but I have seen a few people with walkers carrying clay in their front baskets while moving around quite easily in a local classroom studio.
It is important, and I would argue valuable to all involved, to welcome people who are on a path of healing or just have a different reality or point of view into our communities. Diversity and inclusiveness strengthen our communities. Creating is healing in myriad ways. I can only speak about my own experience, but it is well documented that art therapy is beneficial in many situations. For me, creating again opened something I hadn’t even realized I was missing. It provided a feeling of exploration and accomplishment. The value of this, after so many things suddenly cannot be done as they were before, cannot be overstated.
I can think of no better, more creative, more inclusive art community than the ceramic art community to bring all these things together and shine a light on inclusiveness. The truth is, we’re all different. We all have different bodies, different minds, different experiences, and different abilities. This means we all have different tools we need and/or like to use to create with. Our communities are stronger where there is space for diversity and encouragement for everyone to create, grow, and heal.
the author Dawn Hintgen maintains a thriving studio practice in Durham, North Carolina.
We understand your email address is private. You will receive emails and newsletters from Ceramic Arts Network. We will never share your information except as outlined in our privacy policy. You can unsubscribe at any time.
Please enjoy this complimentary article for the month.
For unlimited access to Ceramics Monthly premium content, please subscribe.
We understand your email address is private. You will receive emails and newsletters from Ceramic Arts Network. We will never share your information except as outlined in our privacy policy. You can unsubscribe at any time.
Subscribe to Ceramics Monthly
Learn how one fellow potter, following a traumatic medical event in which mobility was compromised, is making her way back to clay and managing the tools and space in a ceramic studio.
I stumbled into the world of ceramics after participating in a raku-firing workshop at a local college. I was hooked. Luckily, that was in Minnesota, where the clay runs strong, and investigating the subject further was natural and easy. I kept my hands in the clay in one form or another, from Minnesota to the Southernmost Point of the US, and then back north to the coastal Northeast, and south again to Durham, North Carolina.
A New Reality
Almost seven years ago, I had a brain bleed that changed my life completely. My left side lost all strength and function. I relearned to walk and to do things one-handed that I had done daily using both hands, as I cannot lift, hold, or steady things with my left hand at all. My peripheral vision on the left is also compromised, keeping me from driving or spending much time in front of the computer. Walking, balance, and endurance are now, and will most likely remain, challenging for me.
I was too busy adjusting to my new reality to think about pottery, so it did not come to mind until a good friend told me about the classes she was taking at a local community ceramic arts studio in Durham. She knew that my partner and I had worked in clay in the past, and she encouraged me to think about what I could do in clay now, rather than what I could not, and take some classes with her. Initially, I dismissed the idea, feeling too raw over the loss of so much of my normal. After thinking it over, working with clay seemed like a good form of therapy for my left hand (and my brain in general). I figured, even though I may not have the strength to do wheel work again, if I considered things from a fresh perspective and started over from the beginning, I could relearn to handbuild with clay, keeping my current abilities in mind, and let the process unfold organically into something new.
Searching for Adaptive Tools
Thus began my return to a life including clay, and the quest for accessibility and adaptive tools in the ceramic world. While searching, I found that both adaptive tools for creators and safe, welcoming spaces to work are of high importance to people with different abilities.
With the exceptions of ways to adapt the potter’s wheel for use with a wheelchair and the brilliant Strong Arm Pottery Tool, there are not a ton of tools specifically for adaptive ceramics out there that I have found (I hope someone proves me wrong here); however, there always seems to be something that can be used in a way that assists in the process. As many have found, the kitchen, the recycling bin, and the thrift store are great places to find such tools. Looking at adaptive tools for other things and imagining them for ceramic processes that require a specific tool is a good starting point. For example, I ended up using an adaptive cutting board concept I developed in my kitchen to hold items as I worked on them. The board holds things steady with either a vice or some spikes to keep roly-poly veggies still, so I can slice them without having to hold onto them with my weak hand. I don’t employ spikes for clay projects, but the vice-grip idea from that board is very useful when I need a piece held while I take a tool to it.
As per usual, the simplest things seem to work best. I use a large cleaning sponge to set leather-hard pieces on while I am in the carving stage (it holds the piece where I need it, but has a little give), That same sponge doubles as an easel, holding pieces at a good angle while I am glazing. I started using an empty box to hold the left side of slab-built objects while attaching slabs into 90-degree connections. If I am working on something larger, those big produce boxes are super sturdy. For something smaller, packing corners work great for a left-hand support replacement, both the foam ones and the heavy-duty cardboard ones. I now embrace using an interesting thrift-store bowl or platter as a slump or hump mold. It has opened new trains of thought that I may have never had if I were not looking for novel ways to create in my current circumstances.
Finding a Workspace
As for welcoming and safe spaces, there are some good guidelines/conversations out there as resources. We Are Not Invisible (wearentinvisible.org) has a basic guide that covers it.
As far as a physical working space, a level floor with no tripping hazard spots and wide walkways is a great basic start. Since my situation makes carrying things tricky, I get help to carry bags of clay and in-progress projects on large ware boards, but I have seen a few people with walkers carrying clay in their front baskets while moving around quite easily in a local classroom studio.
It is important, and I would argue valuable to all involved, to welcome people who are on a path of healing or just have a different reality or point of view into our communities. Diversity and inclusiveness strengthen our communities. Creating is healing in myriad ways. I can only speak about my own experience, but it is well documented that art therapy is beneficial in many situations. For me, creating again opened something I hadn’t even realized I was missing. It provided a feeling of exploration and accomplishment. The value of this, after so many things suddenly cannot be done as they were before, cannot be overstated.
I can think of no better, more creative, more inclusive art community than the ceramic art community to bring all these things together and shine a light on inclusiveness. The truth is, we’re all different. We all have different bodies, different minds, different experiences, and different abilities. This means we all have different tools we need and/or like to use to create with. Our communities are stronger where there is space for diversity and encouragement for everyone to create, grow, and heal.
the author Dawn Hintgen maintains a thriving studio practice in Durham, North Carolina.
January 2026: Table of Contents
Must-Reads from Ceramics Monthly
Unfamiliar with any terms in this article? Browse our glossary of pottery terms!
Click the cover image to return to the Table of Contents