It's been a while...

...since I last posted to the blog.  Not sure why exactly, except to say that travel and then the start of school seemed to dominate the daily landscape.  But now, here I am (arrrgh!), having just returned from another bout with surgery, where silence again dominates my day. Hopefully things will be alright, but still...

It all provides cause for some introspection for sure, within the professional, personal, and all other sides of life.  I've made a lot of ceramic work this past year, in a time of ups and downs, confirming for me, at least, that art certainly plays a role in ones day-to-day, allowing it to be the voice when you don't have one, thoughts when you feel worn out, a sense of touch when the hands are tired, or a simple comforting of spirit when things get weird.  I really can't make sense of it all, and as I age I find myself more contemplative than combative.  The high energy of my youth gives way to now older, thoughtful perspectives on what I make, what I do, who I am with, and all other aspects of being fully human.  There was a time I thought I would live forever, but with age I realize that is not a proposition any of us really need.  What we need is to realize the limits of our time and make the most of it.  Being productive in the studio is part of that, and touching the lives of those around us even more important than anything else.  I remember when I was young thinking about my father, who, without a great education on the higher academic level, that he was not that smart.  But as I got older, it was amazing how much smarter he became.  He had wisdom, something no one teaches us except life itself.  He had it, I want it!

So, it's another week of silence, and I hope I can learn something from it, coming from someone who probably speaks out more than he should. Nature's way of saying be still, be contemplative, be reflective.  I'll try to spend the days this week working in the studio (in silence), writing, watching the world around me without offering comment (physical, political, spiritual, etc.), hoping to gain some of that wisdom that seemed to come so naturally to my father before me.  I have heard the saying 'the nut does not fall too far from the tree', but in thinking of me and my father, I feel I am just a nut, not sure when or where to fall, but hoping when I land I am in his shadow.

In the meantime, I'll keep making 'stuff' in my studio, and here's a couple of things I just finished.  The sounds of silence, in me and my work?  We'll see!

Out of the jungle...

...and into another.  Another jungle that is, except this one is paved with concrete and displays billboards at every intersection.  You see, the junlge, the real jungles of the Amazon, are what one might imagine when thinking about jungle life.  Having spent years traveling into the rainforest of Ecuador, I am keenly aware of jungle life.  And while I think many of us think of the jungle as a difficult place to exist, I now tend to think that the jungles of civilization are far more difficult.  Sure, it is indeed a hard life in the real jungles of the Amazon, the least of which require bathing in rivers, eating very strange foods, sleeping on hard floors and trekking through slippery paths that are lined with animals and snakes (and I still, after over 25 years of doing travel and research in the Ecuadorian Amazon, have never conquered my own fear of snakes!).  Go figure, yet I remain committed to returning to a place that, while steeped in daily obstacles of survival, are also steeped in traditions that draw a person back year after year trying to better understand and grasp the very nature of life in such a remote location.

For me, the real struggle of travel within the rainforest is realized more and more as I age.  It is far more difficult to trek up slippery slopes, sleep on those hard floors, and swat away mosquitos at an alarming rate now than it was 20 years ago (and did I mention the snakes!?)...or at least I keep telling myself that.  I am not as flexible as i once was, and each year I tell myself why am I doing this since it seems to be harder and harder, at least physically.  Yet here I am, having just returned from yet another adventure in the Ecuadorian Amazon region, feeling a bit stiff and sore, thinking again of another trip down the road. Am I nuts!?

Well, maybe the secret is not my inability to realize I am aging and this stuff is getting harder, but more so my ability to realize what I am seeing and experiencing.  Making indigenous friends along the way, working with women potters who are in their 80's and still creating pieces that speak to a social and mythological consciousness, and feeling truly alive, something that comes only by living on life's edge, is what seems to provide the fuel to keep me returning. It is indeed a jungle out there, and while it is a very different type of jungle than what I see back home, it is still a place that allows me to keep learning about people, their daily lives and values, and the work they produce that helps define a type of cultural ethos we (artists at least) long to find in our own creative work.  So yes, I am indeed getting older, but the traditions I see in the Amazon jungle are older still, and ones that existed long before I arrived and serve to help me better understand my own place in the world.  For that, and the many indigenous friends I have made along the way, I am grateful.  And with that, I am sure to find more reasons to return.  But still, those snakes...!

For a recent look at an article in Studio Potter magazine (titled 'Preserving Culture...') on our work in the Amazon, go to:  http://issuu.com/studiopotter/docs/sp41_2web_32bf155af6b14e

Kichwa potter Rebecca Gualinga

in the village of Sarayacu

painting a mucawa

sleeping quarters

Taking risks...

...always sounds good in theory, but in reality, well that's another thing altogether.

I recently heard someone say that the person who risks nothing...does nothing...and has nothing.  Seems true enough to me.  But what are the risks we are taking, and for what purpose?  I mean really, doesn't it mean something different for the artist within the context of their artwork, versus, say someone climbing Mt. Everest, where the consequences of that risk could mean your life? Isn't there a difference here, and if so, what are the consequences for an artist when taking risks?  We sure talk a lot about risk taking in art, but maybe it is more 'chance' taking, since the outcome is not life threatening, only changing the direction of one's work.  Just a thought.  So maybe 'taking a chance' fits better?  Don't know for sure, but something I have wondered about lately as I work in the studio and contemplate new ideas and new directions with my work in clay.

Courage...I return to that word as it seems to be the fuel for any risk taking, or chance taking, in anything we do.  It takes courage to climb Mt, Everest (even though I've heard some call it foolishness?), and in art, courage to step outside of your comfort zone to try something new in order to discover another dimension to your work.  I'm not sure if there are different types of courage, but maybe so since there are different types of risks, aren't there?  The courage one needs for their art making seems different than the courage one might need to rise in the morning knowing they have something serious to deal with, be it personal, mental, health, job, or whatever.  We've all been there, and it can be daunting, scary, emotional...yet I am rarely scared to make 'courageous' decisions within the context of my creative work. The only fear there comes more from not creating a successful piece, either technically or aesthetically, or one that does not fully articulate my thoughts of what I hope to say. Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that taking risks within the creative process and finding the courage to do so is easy, just different.  And when weighed against the backdrop of other types of risk taking in our lives, it seems artists should be able to muster up the 'courage' easier than we think in order to find the unknown within ourselves waiting to be discovered.  After all, if we really want our work to serve as a visual language to communicate things we feel that are difficult to find in words, it seems natural that finding the courage to take a risk, or chance, is a small price to pay.  It is not the type of failure that is life threatening, just maybe a little thump to the ego when it becomes an unsuccessful piece?

So back to the person who risks nothing...does nothing...and has nothing.  Seems risk taking, or even chance taking, are vital components to both art and life.  Without them, we remain stagnant, only secure in knowing the results of our inaction.  So maybe indeed it is action, courage, risk taking, or whatever we assign to our motives and subsequent results of feeling alive that makes our art vibrant, meaningful, and in the end worth making, or in the larger picture of our lives, worth living. Not easy, for sure, but maybe worth the risk?

I wish I knew...

...what to think or say after hearing about the tragedy in Boston.  But let me try to wrap a few words around some feelings...

You know, I had been mulling over a new blog post about pots, again, when news of the Boston Marathon tragedy hit the airwaves.  At first I thought here we go again, another senseless tragedy, and for what?  And now, a day later, sitting down to think about a new post on pots, I read yet another story about tragedy, heroism, and the glue that makes people stick together in the most difficult of times.  Stories of how people helped one another, and stories of how lives are indelibly changed forever.  Senseless, for sure, and still heartwarming to hear and see the good emanate from strangers, family members, and so many others, in Boston and beyond, who will also find that day has changed them as well.  

You see, it seems that while the person responsible has done something unimaginable to most, what we are now left with is the truth of humanity and real examples of what it means to be alive and to care for one another.  Sure, it is indeed senseless, and the first reaction is to find the person responsible and make them pay the highest price for what they have done.  But through it all I cannot let go of the feeling of warmth and caring I see on the streets of Boston.  How people share the pain and care for strangers, doing all they can to help one another.  I see more stories of caring and love than I do of revenge.  The most recent story I saw in the NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/04/17/us/in-grisly-image-a-father-sees-his-son.html?smid=fb-share) made me want to weep, both out of the sorrow I felt for the victim as well as offerings of help from strangers who stepped up in such a dire circumstance.

So, today I initially want to say my thoughts are about neither pots nor art, but in some weird way, I think they still are.  You see, for those of us making art every day, we only hope to connect to others and share parts of our lives that we hold dear.  Lives that we know are fragile, and temporal.  Sharing who we are through art, becoming vulnerable to our own human existence, and allowing it all to connect us to one another on the most human level is indeed a noble act.  I want to say that nothing I have ever done compares to the noble acts of kindness and generosity I have seen on the streets of Boston, but if, in some small way, we can each share a moment of kindness and generosity to one another through what we do and say through our art work, it mutes the acts of a few determined to speak loudly through their negative actions toward others.

It is all so confusing to me, and I only wish I knew better what to say or think, but my most primal thoughts on yesterday's events are sure to remain with me as I go to the studio again to touch clay.

Objective Clay...

....which could, by definition, refer only to the objects presented?  But is there more to be mined from this collaborative project?  I tend to think so...

This post comes from seeing the recent release of the web site Objective Clay (www.objectiveclay.com), which is the product of a group of young potters brought together through the recent Arrowmont Utilitarian Clay VI conference. Friends Peter Beasecker and Bill Griffith, the organizers of this symposium, strayed from the traditional mix of artists from previous events, those being a mix of young, mid-career and seasoned veterans, to this time around bringing a group of young emerging artists together for the symposium.  A great move on their part as it presented some young talent, fresh ideas and new energy. And, resulting from this experience being brought together as a group of young presenters, if I understand it correctly, they pledged to remain a group after the conference, and now they have presented a web site of their work.

What a great idea, and knowing several of these young artists I can attest to their devotion, skill, knowledge and passion for working in clay.  A great concept to lay the groundwork for a new generation of potters and setting a direction for new work, discourse and attitudes in contemporary clay.  The web site presents work for sale from the members of this group, with a couple of short essays by Peter and Bill. All told, it is a clean and professional site that, with time, may offer great insight in presenting ideas and work by some of the younger members of the clay world.

I think this site will only continue to grow and improve.  More work added to the site for us to see will be a good addition, and even reading thoughts from them about how and why they work in clay will be something to look forward to seeing in the future. One of the observations I particularly liked, from Peter's essay, was by Mary Barringer, when she commented on the discussion of the careful selection process of these young artists, she said "make sure they have something to say".  And I believe they do!.  But it is a beginning, and a good one at that.  I am proud of them all and look forward to seeing how they will continue contributing to the contemporary clay landscape in front of them.  

So, I recommend anyone reading this post who might have an interest in the future of contemporary clay work to look at this site (www.objectiveclay.com).  It shows great potential.  Their new website will mature, I am sure, as I have faith in them all and love what they are trying to do together to help shape the future of our field.  And really, there are so many other young artists out their too that need to contribute to this dialogue and direction, so hopefully their voices will be heard and their work will be seen.  But what a great start here with the birth of Objective Clay!

The real and the not-so-real...

...or I guess I mean, the real and the digital...in a rapidly changing world.

A few thoughts here that came to me after reading an article by the art critic Jerry Saltz (http://www.vulture.com/2013/03/saltz-on-the-death-of-art-gallery-shows.html).  An article on how galleries are struggling, and the one aspect that stuck with me being a result of the Internet and the role online galleries play in the marketplace of art and ideas.  There is a lot to cover in this article, so I wont re-hash it all, but the point that I am left contemplating is how the Internet has changed the face of art and its audience.  And while it is easy to jump in on either side of that debate, with one deploring how art (clay in my case) is so often viewed as only a 2D representation of a 3D object; or the other side, in saying it has leveled the playing field making objects so much more accessible to everyone who has a computer (and who doesn't these days?), I don't think the discussion, or debate, is really that black and white.

Saltz talks about the importance of seeing art in galleries, and how that helps us formulate our opinions and foster a conversation about what we are seeing in the real world and in real time.  This is certainly true, and if I lived in NYC, LA or Chicago (or any other art center around the world), I would tend to think the absence of the gallery scene might be a loss too great to imagine.  But what about the rest of us, those of us rowing quietly in the cultural backwaters of society (and this is not to imply anything pejorative here as honest looks into culture are so often found in those places).  The very idea that I can experience art via the Internet certainly does create a more level playing field in what I know and see.  And after all, in the past (before the digital age), it was magazines in print that delivered the newest work to my doorstep, in 2D, from shows of artists far away from where I lived, meaning I was not always seeing clay objects in the real anyway.  The difference now is that I can see things as they appear at the same time as others in the big art centers around the world, albeit still in 2D (that is also changing!).

I remember back in the early 90's when I started the Clayart Listserv for ceramists, living in a more rural environment I was looking for a way to be more 'connected' to the clay world on a regular basis.  For me, it made a huge difference to be able to share ideas about clay with people from around the world, almost in real time.  And while images were not part of that format, the discussions were lively and new connections were made possible, and immediately.  Of course, Clayart continues today even though I passed it along to Ceramics Monthly in 2000, and since then, more electronic venues have presented themselves and added more to the digital dialogue that continues today. Saltz talks about missing the 'conversation' that is a vital part of the gallery scene, through openings and other meetings at shows.  But really, are these 'conversations' lost through the Internet?  Not sure. Clayart alone, at least in the early days, provided a great deal of grist for the (ceramic) mill and discussions were often lively and thoughtful (not sure these days as I do not follow the list regularly).  But the idea that the loss of a meaningful gallery scene equates to a loss of a meaningful 'coversation' on art seems narrow in scope, at least to me.

But, on the other side of the issue, when comparing traditional galleries to on-line venues (can I still call them galleries?), have we really made progress?  I guess it sort of depends on what we call 'progress', don't you think?  I say this because sure, on-line galleries (or any other electronic means of showcasing one's work) does allow for a more level playing field with regard to people having access.  I mean really, now your work can be seen by anyone with a computer, and your audience is not limited to those locations where good, traditional style galleries exist (and I have not even mentioned accessibility to web sites!).  But it also means everyone has a venue for showcasing their work, and in many cases, without regard to the quality of that work.  As I said in an earlier post...when art becomes everything, it also becomes nothing! So while we have this tremendous access to work from around the world, where and how are standards being applied?  And for that matter, who creates the standards in the first place?  When traditional galleries present work, I guess we rely on their knowledge and keen 'eye' towards presenting the best.  So now, through the internet, we need to rely on...?  Hmmm, makes you wonder, right?

With all this said, there are certainly good places, at least for me, where I look to see good work in clay.  Access Ceramics is one, and I love it because it is not a sales room, only a place to see good ceramic work.  For sales, AKAR does good shows, along with Schaller Gallery, Charlie Cummings Gallery, etc., not to mention other less commercial gallery/more community based venues such as Red Lodge, Lill Street, etc..  Oh, the list goes on and on, and I'll bet anyone reading this could add another name (please do!) to a growing list of credible clay spaces that function primarily as on-line galleries.

In the end, I am glad to have ANY access to looking at clay, be it in-person, through the Internet, or print magazines.  They all still play an important role for me, and I am sure many others as well.  But as magazines move toward on-line apps (like Ceramics Monthly just has), and the digital age gets more and more sophisticated, the future for following clay art is obvious.  How many of you have already thrown out your old clay magazines?

A few sites worth checking out, but we all know there are so many more to list: