What's this, what's this?

Last month I set myself a making experiment. 

I have an idea for new work that requires joining two types of clay but because shrinkage rates differ, joining two clay bodies can lead to cracking, so much testing is required (again). I have been a "porcelain princess" for quite a while now so unwrapping a bag of Feeneys Buff Raku Trachyte (BRT) in my studio had me slightly aghast and I thought to myself - hmm, best get familiar with this clay body before leaping into anything. 

Enter the making experiment....

I decided to make a quick tableware collection that was simply intuitive. Not planned, sketched, measured, considered and dissected but drawing on an inherent knowledge of sizes and forms with the understanding that the end results did not matter. Not since my early days as a potter have I given myself such freedom. I threw quickly and loosely, turned ruggedly, glazed haphazardly and fired, well I fired like I always do, you can't mess with everything.

Apart from exfoliating fingerprints away it's a whole lot of fun to work with BRT. It's gritty, open texture means forms take shape rapidly and the turning leads to quite remarkable surface finishes. I used a cream coloured, satin glaze that was lying around, rather than start experimenting again, and fired the whole lot, small and big bowls, beakers and mugs, cups, saucers and plates, in one kiln load... without testing! 

The results are rustic to say the least and the naivety of the pieces remind me of work I made while studying.  And my goodness, are they spotty! I took some home to see how they looked away from the studio and they seem to be slowly creeping into daily family usage. The rims are chunky, the bases had to be ground with a Dremel but I have to say... I quite like them.

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.

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

The Deep End

July already. Yikes! In less than two months Jackie Kennedy and I exhibit our collaborative work at Potier. Aye Karumba! The work has continued at a realtively steady pace that will no doubt become a rather rapid and frenzied pace in the next few weeks. (Well... ahh... after school holidays.)

The always-so-supportive Jude, at Potier, was most excited with the idea and kind enough to offer us a two week show amongst the beautiful array of ceramics in her store. Opening night is September 11... hard to forget, unfortunately for all the wrong reasons. That's a Tuesday night from 6-8pm. Pop it in your diary but I will, of course, be sending out a reminder or 20 closer to the time.

I am pretty excited about the direction this work has taken and am looking forward to putting it in the public domain.

Creative paths travelled

I need to get something off my chest and what better forum than my own, neglected blog. I have a two-part tale to tell that might get a little wordy and possibly emotional but here goes...

Since the start of last year I have been developing new work. The time is ripe for a new direction. I have not been in a hurry, exploring ideas and incorporating personal experiences as they arise. Initially my desire was to work with new, braver colours while still using the matt exterior/ gloss interior that I love. I started to colour porcelain and fell in love with the results.

Good.

Needing to make a point of difference with other coloured porcelain wares currently available, I began experimenting with inlay, abstracting my previous urban iconography and enjoying this progression in my work.

Great.

Personal issues are bound to express themselves in creative endeavours and the death of my mother has had a huge impact on this new work. Nostalgia has crept into my form development and, no doubt, into my choice of colours. 

I inherited a collection of beautiful, traditional tea cups and saucers such as the one above and I loved the nod to ceramics of my mother’s era when one blue stain I tested appeared so like Wedgwood Jasper-ware blue. 

Wonderful.

There is still work to be done. The cup above is not particularly great to drink from, for example, so I have plans to resolve the form. But recently I have felt this new work is finally at a point where it is fit for public consumption. It will always be developing but I feel ready to start getting it out there. 

Hooray!

This blog has been so neglected of late as I have been busy taking photos, designing a new wholesale catalogue, putting my mind to pricing and making, making, making. Finally I took a collection of bottles, beakers, carafes and bowls in a range of colours to a store last week.

So here is where the tale takes a turn. 

First some background...

For those that are unaware I am a big fan of potter Lucie Rie. Her work was brought to my attention early in my ceramic career when a friend noticed parallels in our work, dark matt exteriors with scratched lines and minimal, functional forms. I was amazed by some similarity in our pieces, made some fifty years apart - she an Austrian living in London, myself, at the time, inspired by patterns and markings in the Australian landscape. 

Lucie Rie

Sophie Milne

I was aware that I liked her work because it was like my own and conscious, from that point on, of recognising her influence but not wanting to imitate.

Recently a new biography was published, Lucie Rie: ModernistPotter by Emmanuel Cooper, and as soon as I heard about it I ordered a copy and checked the post box daily for its arrival. Last Friday it came. I stowed the package in my pannier, rode straight to my studio, made myself a coffee and undid the cardboard wrapping. Mmmm, the cover image is beautiful, I flipped it over to look at the back and imagine my astonishment when I laid eyes on this image...

Holy Fuck.  

How could I not have known Lucie Rie designed work for Wedgewood? How could this cup and saucer, made in 1963, be so similar to one I just promised a store owner?? How could I have created new work so different from my previous work and still it looks like Lucie Rie’s??? And why oh why did this come to my attention the day after I made my first delivery?!

In the past few days I have gone through a mixture of devastation, feeling my work is unoriginal, self doubt that I hadn’t seen or been aware of this work before (but I honestly don’t think I have), fear that any deliberate changes I now make to my own work will feel contrived and a small, strange element of pride that I design work so like my idol’s. 

I have calmed down a little now and realise that the majority of this new work is not so similar. I am beginning to feel somewhat stoic. I will let go of the Jasperware blue for now, I have many other coIours and forms. I am a creative person, I can roll with the punches, I will continue to develop this work in the personal and honest way I have done to date and it will not be the same as Lucie Rie’s!

Tomorrow ...  the studio.

Today... I just needed to get this off my chest.

Revisiting the past

I would not say I hoard. I am not keen on accumulating possessions and love a good throw out or pass on. However, one thing I am hesitant to dispose of is glazes. I have buckets upon buckets of liquid glazes from long past repertoires, that I may wish to revisit... one day... maybe. A perfectly understandable notion I think? 

In the midst of my sorting and moving the other day I stumbled upon a rather large bucket of Ming glaze (a deleted Northcote Pottery line) that I realised had not been used for over 10 years and had settled beyond resurrection. Tossed it I did. Very brave of me I thought.

The reason I had held on to this glaze for so long is because it graces some of my earliest pottery pieces that are probably amongst the most used items in my home. I made many of these bowls and plates when I set up my first studio. Thrown, squared slightly and reduction fired. 

I was eating a lot of Thai food at the time.

They have stood the test of time, the most important quality I could wish to achieve in my ceramics. They have not chipped or been broken by hands young or old . They have been versatile in their function, morning, evening and all through the day. And despite my constantly changing tastes in food and decor I haven't grown tired of their aesthetic. They are by no means the prettiest things I have made but their quite solidity has ensured their stable presence in my ever changing life.

Oh, and I couldn't help but notice the slight similarity in glaze colour with these classic Wedgwood numbers that I have recently inherited and remember so fondly for my childhood.

I love the conscious and sub conscious effect of nostalgia on the choices we make in daily objects and I'm looking forward to exploring this more in future work. 

That Ming glaze, however, will not be making another appearance, which makes my somewhat naive and homely bowls and plates all the more special.

Ever changing urban landscape

City life churns on. Thankfully the sun is putting in a few more appearances, highlighting incidentals in my immediate urban landscape...

A parting gift from a studio artist... 

A watchful paste up on a demolition site...

And constant suggestions on which direction to take...

Hmmm, which direction to take?

Going to the country

Sophie Milne Wear 2011

I feel fortunate indeed to be included once again in the Clunes Ceramic Award exhibition and am looking forward to a blissful trip to the country this weekend to attend the opening. Hooray! Clunes is about a two hour drive from Melbourne. I'm told it's a beautiful township and of course I encourage all to visit.  

The 55 selected artists (view list here) includes many friends, colleagues and heroes but also names I have not come across before which adds to my anticipation and great eagerness to see new work.  It's going to be big and I will take my camera!

Wear (detail)

Wear is my selected piece and part of Domestic Wear, the recent body of work I discussed in the previous post. A somewhat refined artist statement (it had to be 120 words or less which was a great way to almost stop me rambling) was included with my entry...

Ceramic traditions occupy the periphery of my creative contemplation. Pots I have held or seen in books, exhibitions and museums subconsciously shape and inform my work. As objects that can survive millennium the historical weight of ceramics is heavy but the everyday character of functional pottery inspires me. In Wear I commemorate the functional vessel and the still life tradition and explore concepts associated with the passage of time, such as fading and eroding. I endeavour to express my respect for the longevity of the ceramic object by striving for timeless appeal and a perfection that maintains ‘made by hand’ qualities. Wear is unhurried and quiet, suggestive of the passage of time and the notion that objects become slowly stripped back to beautiful. 

I'm not a big fan of being in the same place as my work and an audience (squirm) but I do feel comforted by the scale of this show and thankfully my desire to see all the work is overriding any apprehension. Well... today anyway.

Wear (side view)

The Clunes Ceramic Award exhibition will be open Thu - Sun 11am - 5pm 11 Sep - 2 Oct 2011

Domestic Wear

Time for an 'outing' of new work. As usual it doesn't quite feel complete (one more firing... I'll just tweak this...) but I am happy with the general direction the coloured porcelain and inlay is taking me. 

I have titled this body of work Domestic Wear because it explores concepts associated with the passage of time as well as commemorating the functional vessel. 

With different percentages of ceramic stains in the clay body the intensity of colour varies from piece to piece so, when grouped, there is the impression of fading. The inlay is slightly raised (difficult to see in these images), as a result of wiping away the surrounding clay, to suggest erosion.

I'm enjoying the contradiction of exploring these concepts in a material that is know for it's durability. I think it makes the work feel unhurried, quietly suggestive of the passage of time and I hope it captures the notion that objects become slowly stripped back to beautiful.

Of course the urban imagery lingers.

To be continued...

Collaboration continues at a comfortable pace. It's hard not to show images of everything we have created so far but some things need to be kept for reflection and reconsideration at a later date. 

Here are just a few more teasers...

I would like to introduce my creative partner in this project - Jackie Kennedy. Jackie studied visual art at RMIT and has an impressive breadth of knowledge in many artistic mediums and processes (compared to my quite singular focus!) As mentioned earlier, it was her interest in printmaking, etching and linocutting that prompted me to suggest we work together.

What fermented the idea was Jackie's desire to explore figurative works with an underwater theme. When she alluded to a sense of wonder at movement through water I was captivated. As a creator of receptacles I am interested in containment and play between internal and external space. The scope of ideas to explore seems endless.

The marriage of image and form was a consideration from the outset and the more we make the more we understand what works. In response to Jackie's ability to capture movement in her figures I see the need create shapes with fluid lines and, in turn, the figures move with the curve of the form. It's an ongoing dialogue.

There is much to explore and resolve... shape, line, colour, surface... but it's hard not to like what has emerged from behind the kiln door already.