Testing - one two

I am deep in testing mode. Throwing hundreds of test bowls, weighing stains in 2 gram increments, mixing, sieving, pouring, firing, assessing, re-assessing... How are the percentages? Is the glaze too thick? Should I readjust the firing schedule. I need more test bowls, more weighing...

This is a time perhaps only craftspeople can really understand. (And maybe their partners!) The time that if you were honest about when working out your hourly rate of pay would really put you closer to.. um.. $3 an hour? The time that to truly answered the question "How is your work going?" would make people back away from you slowly at parties. And the time that requires a great deal of faith.

I have several goals in mind. I am continuing to explore colours for my stained porcelain works, attempting to develop a colour palette of translucent, high gloss glazes for a new collection of porcelain tableware and believe it or not I am still searching for my ideal, clear stoneware glaze.

While I have a vague vision of things in my mind I am always open to being led by unexpected results. I think you need to have an open mind at this stage otherwise you can end up feeling like you are banging your head against a brick wall.

The testing process is a little like reading a book. You are excited to begin and as things slowly progress, and if the book is good you become immersed. But sometimes you don't like where it has taken you and occasionally you are better off just putting the damn thing down and starting another before you waste any more hours, days... weeks.

A potter must test. These are the good, hard yards. It is how we get to know our materials, develop ideas, discover new things and expand our language. And every now and then the results are magic. 

Last Winter

It was ridiculously hot the night of Shane Kent's exhibition opening at Australian Galleries. I stupidly cycled there and felt pale and clammy amongst the beautiful people, as they nibbled on their wagyu beef hors d'oeuvres and completely bewildered by the fact that I couldn't see any 'pots'. Plates, yes, on the walls, but not a plinth with a vessel to be seen.

Shane's previous exhibitions have included flat based, high sided forms, cups with fluid handles and curvaceous, bath-like shapes, all covered in his trademark, landscape-inspired markings and a spectacular, almost golden, high gloss, clear glaze. This show was different and opening night had me befuddled. I made the decision to scarper and come back another day and when I did I was fortunate enough to catch Shane and ask him a question or twenty, which he patiently answered.

Shane is interested in observation, the recording of observations and viewer recognition of what is recorded. Last Winter features a series of large scale, wall mounted compositions that record his observations of a bare Hawthorn tree in winter, over long periods of time. Rather than 'draw' the tree, he records precise imitations of what he witnesses by scratching on unfired porcelain plates.

The marks on the white surface are only revealed when black clay is washed over them and scraped back. The resulting 'drawings', while being intimate observations of  the emerging shapes and spatial relationships of a single tree, come to resemble abstract, landscape pictures of fields of wheat , barbed wire fences or aerial views of pastoral land.

The glaze and colours of his previous work has been replaced by the matt black and white of vitrified porcelain and terra sigillata, so as not to distract the viewer from recognising the intimacy of the artist's observations. The compositions balance light and dark, fine and bold to become strikingly beautiful displays of chiaroscuro. 

There are many other elements at play in this exhibition. Taught in Japan to create the surrounding space when making a pot, rather than the pot itself, Shane is interested in the environmental effect of objects. In mounting the plates on the wall he attempts to manipulate the atmosphere of the gallery space. These are not canvases and are not flat. The sculptural curve of each form, with it's raised central point, cushions the surrounding space, softening the square room and creating a flow of energy that would otherwise be still.

Wall mounting these mark-laden plates also conjures cave drawings. Early inspiration for this body of work came from journeys in outback Australia and Shane pointed out that, unlike painting on a canvas, his drawings are created from above, as the plate lies flat, akin to the process used in aboriginal dot painting. To this purpose four plates were set on a bench, lying flat as they were when they were created. For me this acted as a nod to the initial function of the plate form and the roots of Shane's practise and provided a required counterpoint to the wall mounted installations.

Last Winter marks the beginning of exploration into large scale, architectural ceramics. Shane cites the drawings of Richard Serra as a strong influence and an admiration for the ceramic murals of Miro. Some of the works in this show utilise physical impressions for marks, rather than scratches and painted lines, giving flashes of the sculptural scope of the medium and perhaps a sign of things to come.

I asked Shane if his purpose was to explore the multitude of ideas represented in this work for personal fulfilment or with a desire to communicate a message. He responded that his aim was to create work that could be recognised for what it is. Good answer. I look forward to seeing where it takes him next.

Shane Kent

Last Winter

Australian Galleries (Smith St, Melbourne)

12 March to 7 April

Thinking bowls

"In the higher stages of skill, there is a constant interplay between tacit knowledge and self conscious awareness, the tacit knowledge serving as an anchor, the explicit awareness serving as critique and corrective." The Craftsman by Richard Sennett (p.50)

I am reading The Craftsman at the moment and loving every minute of it. Sennett often discusses the tacit knowledge of a craftsperson and the inherent difficulty in accessing this knowledge. It is hard to put into words the thoughts, both conscious and sub conscious, that run through my mind during the process of making and I agree wholeheartedly that knowledge and ability is best acquired through the act of doing and repeating.

As a teacher, however, I think it is important to impart all that I know to the best of my ability. Within the course structure I have developed for a (very) short course in ceramics, I find passing on information can be fairly ad hoc, or on a 'need to know' basis, as different students have different rates of learning and comprehension. Detailed conversations about specifics arise, and are most effective, only when students are attempting the task themselves or are naturally inquisitive about a certain problem.

I have been ruminating on my own tacit knowledge and the other day decided to jot down some of my mental meanderings as I threw some bowls. I was surprised by all that transpired despite realising I was only scratching the surface. To illustrate Sennet's point I thought I'd share my notes here, on my much neglected blog...  

BOWLS

When I begin a new form I play around with different amounts of clay. I weigh a few balls and take notes. As I have made many a bowl before I have a vague idea of the size of bowl I will gain from a certain amount of clay. This all depends on the type of clay being used - there is shrinkage to consider (10-15% after drying and firing) and the desired thickness of the walls. If the bowl is to have a foot it will need more clay in the base.

As I sit down to throw I think about the height and width ratio and the line of the curve. The point at which the wall comes to rest, the rim, is like a full stop at the end of a sentence, I don't want it to finish before my thought is complete but I don't want to warble on either. It has to be just right. Again I measure and take notes.

My work is quite minimal in form so I aim for a consistent curved line with no hiccoughs, interruptions or unnecessary changes of direction. I want a smooth surface that is comfortable to run a spoon over.

I am also conscious of the requirements of future stages. There needs to be enough clay at the base of the wall to support the form as I take it off the wheel and a slight taper up to the rim to give it structural soundness. I know the walls may lift slightly in the drying process so I make the width slightly greater than what I want the final result to be and I like to round and soften the rim so that it takes glaze well and doesn't become a rough edge. Turning the foot will alter the outside shape and in certain areas the form can't be too thin or it will collapse in the glaze firing.

Sub consciously, as I throw, I ponder the function of the piece. How it will be held and used directs my choices of size, balance, weight and feel. The "vibe of the thing." I also consider how it will be finished. Will I make marks on it that will affect the appearance of the form? How will I glaze it? Does the form listen to the glazes requirements - it's pooling potential or density?

I repeat and repeat and repeat. I might make ten or so and take them through to completion - turned, dried, decorated, fired, glazed and fired again. I assess the results, consult my notes and try again. Each series will resolve issues and the bowl will evolve, becoming something other than what I had initially imagined in response to the materials needs and because I have learnt more along the way. The piece becomes 'informed'... as I do.

Reading back I realise how obsessive this must seem, but when Richard Sennett writes lines such as...

 " the craftsman represents the special human condition of being engaged" (p.20)

and

"people can feel fully and think deeply what they are doing once they do it well" (p.20)

then I start to feel a whole lot better about what it is I do.

Upgrade issues

Nose to the grindstone is a fairly apt idiom for those that work on the potters wheel. I have nearly grazed mine on numerous occasions of late as I frantically make like a mad woman for the Christmas period. Loving every minute of it of course.

I had an idea to invest is some newfangled technology to speed up the clay colouring process so picked up this little beauty at the Daylesford trash and treasure...

No more holding the blender to mix stains in slip, I cunningly thought. I can get all sorts of things done as the machine works its magic. Alas this was not to be. While the beaters work a treat and the variable speed is a marvel, the bowl of this 1950's model Sunbeam does not rotate of it's own accord. I have to stand there slowly turning it, rather defeating the purpose. That and... well the walls of my studio were covered in splatters in an alarmingly quick manner. 

Not a huge success. But on the plus side I did have a lovely moment of being back at my mother's side, waiting patiently to lick the beaters as she whipped up her classic one-bowl-mix chocolate cake, .

So it's back to the trusty Kambrook for the time being...

Perhaps I'll try and modernise, maybe hunt down a 1960's model...

Shopping doesn't have to be a dirty word

I dropped by the Modern Times Pop Up shop yesterday and took a few happy snaps. More 'stay up' than 'pop up' it would seem as their lease has been extended to the end of the year. Fine by me! I enjoy the local artist works / retro Danish furniture combination.

Sophie Milne

There are many opportunities to see hand crafted wares in a market environment these days but good retail opportunities appear fewer on the ground or short-lived. I applaud, respect and appreciate the buying public's resurgence of interest in 'handmade' and the ingenuity of makers in finding ways and means of promoting and selling their work. But I do grieve for the decline of the retail outlet. 

I mentioned the importance of context in my post on Cone 11's recent exhibit. The way objects inhabit space is essential to their narrative. The creativity and ingenuity of some stall holders is spectacular but work crowded on a small table, put together in the space of an hour, is never going to have the same impact it could have in a well considered shop display. 

Tara Shackell

I don't like being an impulse buyer. I prefer to put thought into the objects I chose to bring into my life and assess them in an unhurried, quiet environment. Old fashioned I guess, but I like to pick things up, put them down, walk away and look at them from a distance. And I like to be able to go home and think about it and come back another day.

Rene Carrasco

Markets have been a saving grace to makers in an economic climate that makes it difficult to earn a living from labour intensive, traditional crafts. I do a few myself and am grateful for their popularity. Although the rapidly rising cost of hiring a stall does seem to suggest this bubble may soon burst - but that's another story!

I think there is room for a variety of selling formats for the handmade - markets, stores, online - and it is important to find what works best for you but also supports the industry and doesn't undermine the value of the work. I haven't found that perfect situation yet and I am aware that constant re-figuring is required to respond to the ever-changing market.

Adriana Christianson

But for now, I just want to express my gratitude to the retailers of handmade wares (particularly those that buy the work outright!) and encourage people to support the local store who supports their local artists.

 Sophie Milne

Thanks!

Quote #8

Since the Subversive Clay conference all I have wanted to do is devour any kind of craft writing I can lay my hands on. I guess it got me thinking. I have ordered many of the books mentioned by presenters and am eagerly checking the post box each day to see if any have arrived. 

In the meantime I have once again picked up Lucie Rie: Modernist Potter by Emmanuel Cooper. Readers of this blog will know I had rather a shock when I received this book a while back so I tucked it away for a few months to compose myself. I am now thoroughly enjoying reading it. Nearly every chapter reveals similarities in our work approach and thinking. I must admit I nearly cried when reading the first sentence of chapter one...  "Lucie Rie Gomperz was born on 16 March"... my birth date also... freaky. However there is something validating in the similarities and Cooper has an eloquent way of expressing many thoughts that muddle about in the recesses of my mind. 

Lucie Rie in 1988

Photograph: Tony Evans/Timelapse Library Ltd/Getty Images

I feel I may be recording a number of quotations in the months to come. So to begin, a note to self...

"Throughout her working life, Lucie never sought to make things as cheaply as possible or to reach a mass market, knowing that there was a limit to the quantities she could produce. The pots she made were labour intensive, carefully thrown with precisely turned bases and meticulously applied glazes  They were sophisticated in both concept and making, aimed at an educated, appreciative market that was specialist rather than popular, and their relatively high prices, as far as Lucie was concerned, was a fair reflection of their value."                     

Lucie Rie: Modernist Potter by Emmanuel Cooper p.72

In context

Getting back on top of things now, a few orders complete, studio clean and starting to think about next weekends trip to Adelaide for Subversive Clay. Woohoo. 

I have even had the inclination to raise my head from the wheel and see what's happening out and about as the winter hibernation comes to an end. Ahhhh spring.

Last weekend I rode to Abbotsford Convent to see what Colin and Ilona have been up to in their studio at Cone 11. They had mentioned an event called Spin Off, an installation of their ceramic works for sale, and it had me intrigued. It was not in their studio, as I had thought, but thankfully as I wandered vaguely through the farmers market (eating the best ever spanakopita) I bumped into Ilona, who pointed me in the right direction. 

In a beautifully lit, high ceilinged room within a convent building, the pair had set up a space that felt like a minimalist, Eames-era entrance hall and lounge room, providing a natural and calm setting to display their recent explorations in clay.  It is wonderful when artworks are given room to breathe and are allowed to inhabit a space. This environment was like the half way point between gallery and home and provided a lovely way to view and appreciate the works. They do context well.

So well in fact that while I was there two ladies downed bags and jackets and sat amongst the exhibit with coffees for a chat. Ilona appeared beautifully unperturbed.

Colin has been spending some time with Phil Elson and the influence is evident in his large bowl forms. I was very taken with these beautiful porcelain light shades (below).

Ilona has been exploring new satin glazes that compliment the raw clay body in functional pots, vases... 

 incense holders, bowls, cups and...

 lots and lots of jugs!

I had to pick up one of the larger jugs because I was enjoying the aesthetic of the handle to body relationship but was not convinced of it's practicality. Convinced I was however as soon as I lifted the vessel and it gently swung to a beautiful pouring angle.

Exciting developing work to see in a really beautiful context. 

Spin Off - A Cone 11 Ceramics + Design Studio Initiative

Satellite Showroom

21 - 05 Oct

St Heliers St Gallery

Abbotsford Convent

Pictures from an exhibition

Tuesday, so five more possible days (today-Sat) to see our exhibition, The Deep End at Potier. We had such a lovely opening night with friendly, interested people and some very excited swimmer/models who saw themselves immortalised on an art work for the first time. It was a whole lotta of fun.

Our pieces are installed on the central table and in the window of Judith Buckridge's most excellent store, Potier, dedicated to Australian ceramic art. Being surrounded by some of the best ceramicists in the field is a little intimidating (!) but we are aided by the fact that this body of work is vastly different from anything else on the shelves. I am really pleased with how it looks and when we added some water to a bowl, here and there, the swimmers and the vessels came alive. 

For those further a field, who kindly requested images, I have done my best to capture the feel of the room and the work but as we all know, it is never quite the same as being in touching distance.

None of these images do justice to the spectacular imagery Jacqueline Kennedy 'scratched' on the forms. The detail is just too tricky to capture in a snap. The day after the opening Jacqui declared her intention to  work in PNG, for an indefinite period, as a cook on another kind of vessel, sailing the ocean, surfing, diving and fishing. So the Deep End project draws to a close due to the call of the waves. A fitting end to thoroughly enjoyable collaboration.

Thanks for all the support and interest!

Just a few more laps

I have heard it said that the resulting work from a creative collaboration is often greater than the sum of its parts. With our exhibition just a few weeks away I have been contemplating what has emerged from the interaction Jacqui and I have had over the last year or so and have attempted, in a fumbling kind of way, to put it into words.

Here's what I come up with so far...

Half way through a party we started talking about pictures and pots. The idea of combining underwater imagery with vessels sang of avenues to explore and themes such as volume, containment, reflection and light started to take shape. By the end of the night collaboration had begun.

It was important that there was cohesion and interplay between the images and forms, although initially the practicalities of process directed our choices. Distortion of figures on a three dimensional canvas mirrors the magnifying effect of water, and not always in a flattering light. 

As conceptual elements developed, we made a decision to utilise only the open bowl form with its clear parallels to still bodies of water. The darkened engobe provided a sense of depth from which swimmers partially emerged.

The symbolism of water could not be ignored and explorations of a more personal nature also took place. Like the cathartic act of swimming itself, emotions surrounding grief and loss manifested in the work. Seemingly of their own accord, the works began to convey the feelings gained when swimming; the exorcism of negative energy that physical exertion allows; the opportunity to think, or even not think, in isolation; but also the sense of an intimate connectedness to others and the immediate environment.

This dichotomous notion of alone yet together reflected in the way our collaboration took place. Alone one threw pots, alone the other ‘scratched’ , swimming in our separate lanes but from time to time taking pause to inhale a collective, creative breathe, in the deep end.”                                                 

Jacqueline Kennedy and Sophie Milne

It has been, and I think will continue to be, a wonderful conversation without words.

We hope you can join us at the opening for a celebratory beverage or you find time to pop in to the Deep End at some stage during the course of the exhibition.

The Deep End

Sophie Milne and Jacquie Kennedy

11 to 25 Sep 2012

opening Tues 11 Sep 6-8pm

Potier

29 Mills St Albert Park

open hours Tues - Sat 10-5

My happy place

A few recent snaps of my making space. 

Official opening to come... one day...

better late than never, right?!