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:

Why pots?...

...or maybe better still, why not?

Pots, especially pots that are utilitarian, are, simply put, lovely to touch, hold, use and have in the home.  This thought came about recently with an article I read about a show of bowls at the Portland Museum of Art, along with information on the show that was published in the NY Times (titled..."Finally, the Bowl Gets Its Due" - nytimes.com) and then widespread across the Internet.  A lovely concept and equally provocative exhibition, highlighting the quiet, yet powerful place the 'bowl' plays in our lives.  I will take this one step further, and also say the quiet, and provocative place functional handmade pottery plays in our lives.  A posting on FB by my wife, Mary, captured it all when she said "Do you have a favorite bowl?  If not, you are not getting your dishes from a potter".  Well said, but then again, she lives in a house full of pottery and uses them every day, in every way.  But still...I think she's right, if you don't have a favorite bowl, well, you know.

It all made me pause and start to think more about the things I make in the studio, and their connection to the pot, or rather, the utilitarian pot. Now understand, I do make functional pots from time to time, but I never claim that as my main work.  I would love to, but I get so easily sidetracked seeing the pot/vessel form in the abstract, and how ideas of function work on so many levels.  The spirituality of functionalism is of great concern to me, and because of this I so easily stray from the pure utilitarianism of pottery forms.  Don't get me wrong, I am not saying what I am doing with pottery forms is not good, and for me, it is essential.  You see, I cannot help but see the pots I make as abstractions of ideas that are contained in the forms that have their roots in everyday pottery.  While I started with a background in functional pots, and even had a great experience doing an apprenticeship at a pottery, it has always been the 'what if' of functional forms that intrigue me.  But in the end, I am most comfortable working with the pot/vessel form, and I often think it is like an umbilical cord that keeps me tethered to the roots of what I love...the pure functional pot that one can use every day.  And while there is a lot of sculptural clay work out there today, and much of it very good, I just can't seem to disconnect myself from the pottery forms I love, even as I stray away from pure functionalism.

So, I guess what I am saying is that the pieces I am making now are more connected to functional pottery than previous work I have made, yet they are still not the most 'functional' of forms.  Can it be?  Hmmm, I just can't seem to help myself seeing pottery forms in a way that take me on a visual journey (not to say pure functional forms cannot do this, and they indeed do).  Yet for me, vessel abstraction is still part of a pot being functional.  How many levels of functionalism are there anyway? Boy, I hope I am not finding excuses (sometimes I think I rationalize things in a way that would make Freud turn over in his grave!), and if you are confused, think how I feel. But thinking out loud may help me work through the ideas I have that are ongoing in the studio, and in the bigger picture, what's really more important is that there is work ongoing in the studio.  Just make stuff!  It will all make sense some day (he says hopefully!).

But as for functional pottery, and for those of you who do it so well, you are my heroes! 

Here are a some images of some ''work-in-progress'!

pierced vessel

Slab tray with thick slip

Home again...

...from the NCECA conference in Houston.  And now busy trying to get time back into the studio, but first needing to get the article I have been working on with Richard Burkett on the pottery of the Amazon off to Studio Potter magazine.  Their next issue is titled 'Indigenous', and we are contributing a piece to it.  Good timing with us just having done a presentation at NCECA titled 'Indigenous Pottery:  Does Research Preserve Tradition?'  Not sure we answered any of the pertinent questions, but the discussion was lively and sincere.

Our article, titled 'Preserving Culture:  Evolving Traditions and Outside Influences Facing the Ecuadorian Amazon' has been an interesting thing to work on the past few weeks (and part of a book we will have out very soon on the pottery of the Amazon).  I look forward to the issue Studio Potter magazine will produce as it should present many facets on the topic of the indigenous.  Having studied the potters and the pottery in the Amazon for over 20 years, I am anxious to see what they put together for this issue.  The very term 'indigenous' invokes a myriad of thoughts for me, and I cannot help but think of it in political terms knowing how poorly the indigenous of the rainforest are often treated. It's crazy how those with the most, especially in terms of money and power, treat those who can so easily be marginalized.  To me it's a fairness issue, and all about treating others as you hope to be treated yourself.  Land and mineral rights in the rainforest, along with the religious pursuits of various groups, seem to invade the lives of those who are so easily manipulated.  In the meantime, lifestyles are disrupted, traditions are left behind, and the environment suffers.  So, we continue to document the ceramic traditions in hope they are at least kept alive through writing, video and oral interviews.  So,  preserving culture?  You bet, but only on one level.

I am looking forward to getting back to work in the studio, and being away from it for a week is quite disruptive.  Feels like trying to start a car engine in winter that has been left idle for a while.  It initially grinds and grinds, and then, hopefully, turns over.  I did get back in the studio today, and found myself staring at the pieces on the shelves and under plastic, feeling like a stranger who entered a party that had been going on for a while.  I had to look at the work, reflect on the ideas that they were trying to become, and try to merge my own thoughts with what they are now.  Sort of like trying to drive onto an on-ramp on the interstate, carefully giving it gas and hoping you don't get shoved off the road as you enter!  Luckily I was only away for a week...it's really hard when a week becomes two, and then three, and then a month or more. That merging process then is painful!

And good news from the medical front...and I feel like, at least for now until the next check-up, I dodged another bullet!  It's all so crazy sometimes, trying to live day-to-day, looking into the future with hope and excitement, yet reminding yourself today is really all you have for sure.  We all want more, but we should never trick ourselves into thinking we will live forever.  Ahhh...if only we could!  Maybe the people we love and the art we make are the only things that really will live on...?

For now though, how about more images from our work with the indigenous...and hopefully new studio work will soon follow!  (does anyone see a mucawa theme here?)

large chicha container with mucawas

Kichwa potter Rebeca Gualinga

     

Andoa girl

mucawa

A delicate balancing act...

...outside of our own culture.  a blog post like this under the heading of work-in-progress?  Definitely!  While not about any studio work I am doing at the moment, it is still work-in-progress for me because it is part of my work, and deals with a research issue that has been on my mind for quite some time now.  And that issue?  Cultural Preservation... and how those of us doing research with indigenous people might affect change in the very work we are documenting and studying.

Over the past 20+ years now I have been doing research in the Amazon region of Ecuador (much of that time with colleagues Richard Burkett and Nan Coffin).  And during this time I have taken the perspective of one who observes, documents and comments on the clay work produced in the rainforest.  I do not see myself as someone trying to stop the inevitable cultural change that occurs naturally.  By this, I mean not someone who, observing that traditions are changing, or even dying, within indigenous communities (resulting from an array of reasons that cause this to happen), works to stop that change and therefore keep a craft tradition alive.  For me, the extent of trying to slow down any movement toward extinction comes only in the form of buying and documenting their work, hopefully adding support to their current efforts in clay.  In short, I prefer to be the one peeking in through the keyhole in the door of another culture to see what is happening.

But the real question I have for any of us engaged in this type of work is this:  How do WE affect change in what they produce, through the presence in, and the study of, cultures other than our own?  An example for me is when I was visiting an Amazonian Kichwa potter one day who I have known for years, only to discover that a ceramic figure she had made (a Juri-Juri, a protectorate of the indigenous) that was sitting on the shelf, was made in my image.  While this was meant both as a compliment and a bit of humor, the image caused me to be reflective on how my own interaction with this potter over the years had inspired her to alter the traditional image she had in her head of the Juri-Juri.  As I thought about it more, and after several years of returning to the rainforest to meet new potters as well as ones I had met in previous  trips, I found myself becoming increasingly aware of my own footsteps into another culture and how my interactions might affect the direction of their work.

Hmmm, a lot to consider, for me anyway, and perhaps for others too, especially anyone stepping outside their own cultural landscape to study the work of indigenous people.  The questions are many, and the answers few.  With this in mind I put together a panel presentation for NCECA in Houston later this week, one that addresses this issue in hopes of gaining a broader perspective on the question.  Invited panelists Doug Casebeer (presenting his work in Nepal, Chile and Jamaica), Winnie Owens-Hart (Ghana and Nigeria), and Richard Burkett (Ecuador and the Amazon), will comprise a roundtable of discussion on these very issues, allowing me to present each of them with questions on the topic.  While I don't really expect to find the answers just yet, I am happy to be asking the questions.  Something I feel important for our field of study, especially in a time when access to remote locations has become easier than ever before.

Anyone at NCECA interested, I hope to see them there!  In the meantime, here are some images from the Amazon that might help present a sense of place and people that represent a particular traditional landscape, and provide reference for the very questions with which I am struggling.

Dog figure

Juri-Juri

Shiwiar Chicha Pots

Huaorani potter

The sound of silence...

...is deafening!  Seriously.

Having been without a voice for the past week (and thankful I have been released today and am now speaking again), has been a most humbling experience.  It is amazing how both listening and speaking changes without words, or at least the sounds of words.  Sure, I was prepared to write notes to others when I wanted to say something, but honestly, what I discovered was that in doing this, I took more time to think about what I wanted to say, and often decided I really had little I wanted to say.  The simple effort of writing out a comment makes one become more introspective (or is it self-editing?), and in doing so, I became more tuned in to the value of each word or thought I wanted to say (or rather, write).  Sort of funny/strange really, and the only thing that kept my spirits up was the notion that the silence would soon end and I would be allowed to once again speak.  But it did give me plenty of pause for thought about people who cannot speak, and what daily life is about for them.  You start living inside your own head, or rather thoughts, and you start to hear/listen more attentively to the world around you.  And even more curious is how others interact with you if you cannot speak.  They treat you differently!  While on the surface it appears kind, it is not necessarily better.  Don't get me wrong, the intentions are always good, but the actions are still different.  It helped me realize how much our thoughts and actions are tied to our words and how we express them to one another.

It all brings me back to what my blog is ultimately about, or hope it to be about.  You see, for me it is a diary, capturing my thoughts about my work in clay, art, travel, and so many other life experiences that come along.  My commitment to it is to be consistent and honest, regardless of the many times I feel lazy, or trite.  The only difference here is that through a blog I also invite others to look over my shoulder as I think out loud.  I tend to believe I am not covering anything new or profound, yet my thoughts and feelings about life and art are real, at least they are to me.  And if they are of interest to anyone else (which it surprisingly appears they are!), well...I guess I am not sure what to say about that.  But it may underscore that we, as humans living in the 21st century, do share many of the same fears, joys, family concerns, experiences, etc., and by sharing them with others we simply confirm our own humanness.  And more so, we are not alone, even when in silence!  Striving to find a way to say this through my clay work remains the challenge in front of me each day I am in the studio, and that challenge, as difficult as it may seem at times, is ultimately much easier to accept than the challenge of living in silence.

As I mentioned in the last post, no one gets out of this alive, yet we sometimes carry on each day as though we will live forever.  Recent experiences with health issues have at least confirmed this for me.  I now know of two things I am certainly sure of:  one is that I will not be elected the next Pope, and the other is that life is finite!  The trick in the latter is to look at each day anew, and make the most of it, and limit yourself to being unnecessarily exposed to the negatives in life that can so easily create decay in our days.  With this said, I hope to find the courage needed to discover the personal relevance in the things I make in the studio, and not fear the failures that seem to sneak in as well.  As a result, and in keeping with the posting of images from the studio for work-in-progress, I present both new work in the form of serving bowls in trays (thinking of a variety of foods eaten together, with family or friends, while thoughts of things utilitarian permeating my thoughts), and failures, in the form of pieces blown up in a recent bisque firing.  And with all I have experienced lately, the blown up pieces were the easiest for me to accept in the course of my day.  Crazy, huh?  (although I am not suggesting I would easily get used to that happening!)  The real threat to ones work is not in the failures, but rather in the absence of time in the studio.

A conundrum...

as defined by Webster's is 'a confusing or difficult problem'.  I guess this is where I find myself, and where I will start this blog post.  For you see, I have just had surgery on my voice box and am left silent, at least for the short term.  The medical issues surrounding me are perplexing, and without getting into too many details (at least not just yet, maybe later in another post as I learn more and see how things unfold), suffice it to say that I am approaching my studio work differently than before.  And here is where I wish to begin...

I have always stated that artists, and for those of us that are potters, should 'touch clay every day'.  Now I realize this is hampered by many circumstances that deny our ability to complete the task of touching clay every day.  But you know what I mean, I hope, when I say this as it is meant to imply that we should be in contact with our work daily, in some capacity.  I prefer it to be in the studio of course, but sometimes it is in writing, travel, conversation, reading, teaching, etc., all of which, for me at least, helps support my claim of 'touching clay every day'.   But the real claim, in times like these, when you are consumed with a personal issue that distracts ones thoughts so much, is to find your way back to the studio, despite the distractions.  Health issues are the ones that come to mind, for where are we without our health, and especially good health.  The distractions are mind-boggling, especially when they are your own.

I like to often say that 'no one gets out of this life alive', but the reality of that is comforted when you think you will have a million tomorrows.  How is it for those who know they won't?  What do you do then, and how do you prioritize your life?   My brother Ken, a Catholic priest, tells me no one should ever think of tomorrow that way since God does not give us tomorrow, only today.  Yesterday is gone and not to be changed, tomorrow may never arrive, so living for today is the only thing one can really count on.  Sounds good, but still... Now,  don't get me wrong here, I am not planning to leave anytime soon, at least if I have anything to say about it.  But still, a health issue that sidelines you like no other can certainly give you pause for thought.  I have been medically tested over the past four moths enough to make me feel like a lab rat.  And a couple of minor surgeries later (yes, minor, at least that is what I claim them to be since I did not have to stay overnight, even though I know better) I am still hoping for something that makes me feel more confident about the many tomorrows I plan to have.  So, about this art making thing...

I have mentioned before how I find courage in those artists who can work through difficult times, be it, health, war, emotions, persecution, or any such thing that would make going into the studio a challenge.  Sure, art can be the thing we use to vent these feelings and express where we are with it all, but really, it is not all that easy. Still takes courage.  So my challenge, is to walk those steps to my studio and find my voice, that has now been temporarily made silent through speech, within the work I make with my hands.  What do I want to say in clay, and how is it different from what I might say with words?  And after all, shouldn't they really be the same voice?  If not, why is one saying one thing while the other is saying something else? Maybe the courage I am seeking is not so much to physically walk to the studio as much as it is to confront the ideas I need to say that reside in my being, yet denied out through my hands?  How to make your work your voice, when you really do not have one?  Courage...and a lot of making of things, good and bad, that come from deep within yourself.  It can be done, and hopefully within the lifetime we are given. One day at a time.

To be consistent with offering an image or two, (I guess this is something I am committed to if indeed I am posting about work-in-progress, even if now I am looking at it more as life-in-progress...hmmm, a new title?).  Here are some stacking bowls I have been working on, early in development, but fun to do.  Sort of a diversion, so let's see where they go...and another of some slip cast vessels that I see as a wall installation.  I'll need about 50 to have the idea complete.  Working to stay focused...!

NC Potter's Conference

...a break from my studio work having just returned home from a weekend in North Carolina as an invited speaker (on the Pottery of the Ecuadorian Amazon), I am pleased to send in this report on the conference and the folks I met there. Beginning with a huge note of thanks to the organizers of the conference from the Randolph Arts Center (Director Derrick Sides, and potters Bruce Gholson and Samantha Henneke).

What a great conference, and equally great group of potters! Now in its 26th year, it was a healthy gathering of clay enthusiasts that welcomed everyone. The keynote lecture by Andrew Glasgow was fabulous, paying tribute to the long history of clay work in the state, and highlighting the importance of utilitarian pottery and how it serves to be part of a family history. A great speaker who delivered his message with passion, and demonstrated his love for the region, clay and its makers.

The demonstrators, Peter Beasecker, Julia Galloway and Tara Wilson did a superb job 'on stage', seemingly effortless in creating forms that were alive, creative and simply fantastic. The audience peppered them with relevant questions about their work, our field, and a sundry of other related issues that spurred on a lively dialogue between the demonstrators and their audience. I was mesmorized at times as I watched them work and listened to their thoughts on any issue that came up. Peter's thoughtful approach to clay, Julia's entertaining and inventive ways of working, and Tara's creative problem solving and ingenious approach to functional forms were a delight to see in action. What a great group of potters!

Face pots from the Pottery Center Museum in Seagrove

kiln junk yard

The last day's lectures by Peter Chartrand from Potter's for Peace, myself on the Pottery of the Amazon and Noah Scalin on creativity (and what a great talk he gave on the subject) all rounded out a three day event that went so well that by the time I left I felt so very comfortable in a new place surrounded by new friends.  This conference takes place every year (for the past 26) and while it is designed for NC potters, I would recommend it for anyone wishing to make the trek to NC and join in.  They typically have a strong selection of demonstrators and presenters, so you can count on next year's event to continue in that tradition.

Lastly, I was able to get over to Seagrove (the historic pottery community) and to visit the home of Dwight Holland (the man behind the development of the Potter's Conference).  The Seagrove area is fabulous in how it supports so many potters (I think they claim about 75).  It is weird to drive along and feel like you are in the 'yellow pages' under 'pottery'.  Every turn there is another sign on the road advertising the next pottery shop, and kiln stacks pop up here and there.  Not sure what it would be like to live in such a place, but being surrounded by folks with the same interests would certainly have its advantages (and dis-advantages too, I suppose?).  But it was sure fun to see it all, and from the ones I visited, it was time well spent.

As for Dwight Holland and his incredible collection of pottery, what can I say!  Forget the fact that he is a wonderful person to know, the one-on-one visit I had with him to view his collection was a pure delight.  I felt privileged to spend some time with him in his home, and to see his collection of ceramic pieces representing a who's who of contemporary ceramics.  He was so generous in allowing me to pick up any piece I wanted, and he knew about each and every one of them.  They are all precious for him, as they are for anyone of us who care deeply about contemporary ceramics.  And his collection is not limited to potters in the U.S. as he has numerous pieces from well known potters far and wide.  I think he told me he has about 2,000 pieces in all...amazing!  Again, a true delight, and it is no surprise to hear people in NC speak of Dwight with such admiration and respect.  A real treasure for NC, and beyond!

Anyway, a few images here to see, and now, I hope to get back in the studio real soon and turn my attention to the things I have stewing in my head and hands!

Ben Owen's kiln yard

Seagrove

Very large storage jar

Jugtown kiln yard