A Love That Took Shape

As a photographer who loves telling stories, I want to share the story behind how this beautiful piece of art comes to life, through the eyes of a fellow artist.

While photographing him, I realised I wasn’t just witnessing the making of a pot.

I was watching a love story.

Not the usual kind. No flowers, no candlelight, no dramatic music. Just a potter, a lump of clay, and a spinning wheel.

And honestly, the clay seemed to be the one giving him all the trouble.

I watched him begin by kneading the clay, pressing it, turning it, and working it patiently until it was ready. It felt almost like their first meeting, getting to know each other, figuring out who was going to be in charge.

Then came the wheel.

He placed the clay right at the centre and began to spin it. At first, the clay had a mind of its own. It wobbled, moved around, and seemed determined not to stay where it was supposed to.

But he didn’t give up. He patiently brought it back to the centre, again and again.

A little like love, I thought. Sometimes you just have to keep each other grounded.

Once the clay finally settled down, it felt like the two of them were getting to know each other.

I watched as he pressed his fingers into the centre of the clay and slowly created an opening. Then, with each turn of the wheel, he began pulling the clay upwards.

The walls grew taller. Slowly, I could actually start seeing the shape of a pot.

His hands moved gently, but with confidence. There was no rush, no hesitation. Just years of knowing exactly how much pressure the clay could take.

And that was when I started seeing something beautiful.

He wasn’t really forcing the clay to become something. It felt more like he was listening to it.

Or perhaps, after all these years, he had simply learned how to argue with clay without losing the relationship.

Round and round they went. The wheel kept spinning, the clay kept changing, and his hands kept guiding it.

A little more pressure here. A gentle touch there. A small adjustment.

And slowly, almost without me noticing, the shapeless lump I had seen at the beginning began to look like a pot.

By then, they seemed to understand each other.

He knew exactly what the clay could handle, and somehow, the clay seemed to know what he wanted from it.

I found myself thinking about how much this resembles any relationship between two artists. One has a vision, the other has a nature of its own, and somewhere in between the two, something beautiful happens.

Together, they create something neither could have made alone.

And just when I thought the love story was heading towards its happy ending, he brought out a thin wire.

That’s when things got complicated.

He carefully slid the wire underneath the pot and began cutting it away from the wheel. And just like that, after all that time together, the pot had to leave.

I watched that moment through my camera and couldn’t help thinking that perhaps this is the hardest part of creating anything.

You spend so much time shaping it, looking after it, giving it your patience, and somehow, along the way, a little bit of yourself goes into it too.

And then, at some point, you have to let it go.

Maybe that’s what a relationship is also about. Patience, trust, understanding, a little bit of pressure, and knowing exactly when to let go.

And perhaps that’s what made this story so beautiful to me.

The potter doesn’t simply make the clay into something. The clay gives him a way to create.

Unlike most love stories, this one leaves behind something you can actually hold.

The story ends here.

A tale by Vishal Kunjam.
With the help of Shutter Society Hyd.

IG: vchithra.jpeg