I can't remember who the instructor was for this class, I lasted only one week.

The fact that you could spend so much time and energy carefully building something that would then turn around and change shape... on its own... drove me crazy.

The clay will change shape trying to support its own weight.

The clay will change shape as it dries.

The clay will change shape depending on the weather.

The clay will change shape if you look at it sideways.

I never even got to the point of glazing or firing anything, which would have brought up a whole other array of unpredictable results.

For our first assignment, we were given about 5kg of clay and told to build the highest tower possible, using any technique we wished.

That sounded like fun.

We all got busy, and some of the results were quite impressive. I reached the heights by using a kind of "log-cabin" approach, stacking cylinders of rolled clay on top of each other.

Things were going well, but soon some of my classmate's structures started leaning over due to the weight of the clay pressing down on the lower sections.

One or two towers collapsed, and we all had a good laugh before finally using most of our clay and finishing-up for the day.

As we left the classroom, the instructor explained how the clay would dry overnight, and all our tower creations would become solid and strong.

The next morning, most of the towers, mine included, were just mounds of shattered rubble on the floor.

The sun had come in through the windows earlier that morning and accelerated the drying on one side of the towers, making them lean over and crash to the floor.

Besides my dislike of working with clay, I couldn't stand the classroom environment.

There was always a thick, reddish layer of dust everywhere, and I couldn't sit, or put anything down without getting covered in it.

And, for the rest of the day after a class, I'd be spitting up reddish goop or blowing it out my nose.

Clay was definitely not my medium!