~French Butter Dishes by Keith Phillips

In the Seinfeld episode, “The Heart Attack” (season 2, episode 8), Jerry goes to bed after watching a science fiction B-movie, only to wake up in the middle of the night laughing.  He then writes down the joke for his stand-up routine.  The next day, he can’t read what he wrote down.*

This episode reminds me of when I was first learning to throw and work with clay.  I would practice; struggling for hours in the studio to learn the skills I needed to be proficient with the tools and materials.  Our professor, John Arnold, would watch us work and then ask, “Are you dreaming about clay, yet?”  His proceeding comments suggested that once the ceramic process invaded our dreams, we’d find our inspiration; follow through with our creative ideas; progress.

I’m not sure how much follow-through I was willing to apply back then, but lately I’ve been dreaming about clay.  However, I feel the need to qualify my subconscious efforts in part because I’ve been away from the studio and perhaps a little drug induced.

My absence wasn’t completely unplanned…well, it was hoped for.  But, not for this long.  Short.  Minimal time away was the thought.  Nothing is as we wish it would be.

A few days after final grades were posted, I was scheduled to have minor surgery on my arm.  Emphasis on the minor.  It was outpatient.  The doctor said no lifting for a week.  I can do that.

By the evening of my surgical encounter, my body began to betray me with a reaction to the anesthesia.  Nothing serious – though increasingly uncomfortable as I approached my follow-up appointment four days away.  After seeing the doc, with a prescription in hand, I felt like everything was under control.  We were headed to see family for a few days.  I’ll be good to go as soon as we return.  Ah…”the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”**

By Christmas Eve (with one day left on my Rx) the annoying reaction had become more than exasperating.  Harassing me day and night. (ugh!)

Four days later, I found myself in the doctor’s office with the telling signs of an oncoming cold and the ever growing Andromeda Strain that occupied my every thought. (please, just make it go away!)  Two weeks since surgery…another round of meds…AND my head is now heavy with snot.  I guess I won’t be hitting the ground running.

Nonetheless, my fitful sleep brought on dreams of clay.  Butter dishes to be exact. (very odd)  There are a number of potters who make butter dishes.  But, since most people buy a butter-like substitute that comes in a handy plastic tub; butter dishes seem part of a bygone era when folks actually used a table clothe, place settings consisted of more than a plate with a matching mug, and napkins were placed on one’s lap when dining.

There are numerous creative designs for the forgotten butter dish.  We have the French butter dish (see examples at the beginning of this post).
How it works: (just a bit high maintenance…it’s French)

~French Butter Dish

~Butter Dish by Cindy Gilliland

The thrown circular butter dish.  Hmmm…often these pieces are also referred to as a butter dish/garlic roaster.  (perhaps, because butter is generally of a different geometric form)

~Butter Dish by Liz Zlot Summerfield

The more practical brick shaped butter dish takes a bit more creative energy.  This is where my dreams took me…though, I’m not sure how much follow-through I’m willing to apply.

Go here to see Keith Phillips create the Classic American Butter Dish!

*The episode ends when Jerry remembers what he wrote down – a line from the movie he had been watching.  It’s then he realizes it isn’t funny.
**To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in the Nest with the Plough, Robert Burns, 1785.

 
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So then, in the absence of a hectic studio schedule, I’ve been tweaking and rewriting my Spring semester Sculpture class.  Over the years that I’ve taught Three-Dimensional Design and now Sculpture, I’ve observed students struggle to visualize their ideas beyond the two-dimensional plane.

“If I can draw it, why can’t I sculpt it?”

I believe visualization begins with seeing (go ahead and laugh a little at that sentence…read it again if you must).  Perception.  We miss a lot because we process quick visual cues and then just fill in the blanks.  Our ‘filling in’ isn’t always accurate and often void of details.  We create a good, general image in our head and can probably provide an adequate description.  However, if we really (really) saw, we’d be amazed at what we gloss over.

While searching for some inspiration, I read an article about jump starting the creative process.  Several artists were asked what they do when they need a creative push.  One artist suggested choosing a color and then taking photos of that color in any shape, shade or texture.

I thought this might be fun to try, so I grabbed my point-and-shoot to record the color red for the next half hour.

When I looked at my images I immediately noticed that I kept to a fairly narrow value range (no pinks here).  I can see how this exercise could be expanded (hmmm…thinking, thinking).  Just allowing time to thoroughly seek out a color would begin to push students.  In fact, well after my allotted half hour of searching for red, I caught myself being drawn to the color; accompanied by a mental note that I’d seen it (Where’s Waldo run amok!).  This exercise sparked a renewed awareness of color, surface, texture and even shape.

An exercise in perception that I find myself returning to is creating line drawings (a collection, actually) in my sketchbook for the surfaces of functional work.  These drawings help me see form.  The simple visual cues on the two-dimensional plane suggest spacial relationships as well as speak to the form of the clay.

~sketch for 'Forgive Me for Believing I'm Immune'

The line drawings are an abridged version of the images I draw on paper (really lousy paper) for my drawings on clay.  I develop a detailed image on paper – far more detail than I will ever be able to translate onto the ceramic surface.  This might seem like a waste of time and energy; creating such finished sketches.  But, they help me to really (really) see.  Develop my perception.  Jump start the creative process.

The days and weeks preparing and gathering for the sale generated a certain energy.  Unpacking boxes of beautiful cups and mugs is very much like the anticipation a potter experiences when the kiln is finally cool enough to open after a glaze firing.  Or…in more practical terms…it’s like discovering significant money forgotten in the pocket of your jeans.

Everything about this sale was intimidating (I documented my fear here) and unexpected.  When I first threw out the idea, I was afraid I couldn’t get enough work together to create a sale.  Instead, 34 artists participated with 623 cups and mugs.  (Thank You!)

Then, the panicked thoughts…what if no one shows up?  But, Friday’s crowd was unbelievable.  WOW!  So many people came to check out the sale, buy mugs, chat and contribute to our sock and knit cap collection for a local homeless shelter.

Saturday was more relaxed, but had steady traffic.  Again, unexpected.  The budget for promoting the sale amounted to the cost for a short-run of postcards.  I really depended on artists and friends to spread the word.  Free paid for space in several events listings in the on-line versions of the local papers (does anybody read those?) and a couple community magazines…that, and Facebook.

Our collective efforts yielded 25 knit caps (not an easy find in Arizona in the fall) and 185 pairs of socks. (pause here for a quick happy dance!)

The Monday following the sale, I spent checking inventory against unsold work; spending time meditatively wrapping and packing up mugs and cups.

As artists have come by the studio to collect their work, they’ve asked if I plan to do this again.  You know…yes, I think I will.  But today, I need to get back to clay.  I’m out of mugs.  Go figure.

…let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.  Hebrews 12:1

Those words express my general approach to each day.  Though, there are times when I think I’ve shown up for the wrong race.

I use to be an athlete…now I just ache.  I was a gymnast and briefly (very brief) ran the 4×4  (4oo meter relay).  Track and field is a big deal where I grew up in the high elevation deserts of west Texas (with exception to Texas football, which is an entity unto itself).

However, my membership card for the track team was short lived.  Made the team, but the track season conflicted with gymnastic competitions.  Truth is, I wasn’t very versatile on the oval.  I could run my forth of the 4x, but that was about it.  Done.  I remember my hesitation when coach Reed suggested hurdles.  Gymnasts may have great coordination and flexibility, but we are generally short.  Wrong race.

Lately I’ve been running hurdles; get up a good head of steam just to be interrupted so I can launch myself over an obstacle.  It’s nerve wrecking.  Running full out toward the hurdle: playing chicken.  Not pretty.

With generous momentum I approach the first hurdle; catching it with the heal of my lead foot.

Despite my best efforts, the soaring Arizona heat got to my clay before I did.  A week’s worth of work destine for the reclaim bucket.

The second hurdle is but three steps away.  Stumble over.

The glaze firing won’t reach temperature.  After hoping for more, I shut the kiln down.  Burned out element.

Looking for a quick recovery.  Clear the hurdle, but trailing behind.

Replace the element.  Reload.  Re-fire.  My clear glaze doesn’t really like to be re-fired.  Praying I don’t lose the entire kiln load.

The color was a bit off, but the glaze behaved.

A few more hurdles ahead.  My…knee…tags…every…single…one.  That’s gonna leave a mark.  My timing must be off.  Count.  Three steps.

As the artists’ deadline approaches for the cup and mug sale, my calendar is suddenly congested with personal appointments of some urgency.

The finish is in sight.  Just run now.  Run!

With a slushy delivery deadline and a week until the sale, my days have been punctuated by the most beautiful handmade cups and mugs.  Not a bad finish.

Cap, Cup and Mug Sale, Show and Trade

Looking forward to seeing you!!

The new lens is far less flexible; with a fixed focal length, it has a relatively short depth of field.  But, my thinking was that it would provide excellent images of larger work where actual viewing distance won’t allow the 28-135mm lens to capture the entire piece (yeah, I tell myself that all the time, “I should work smaller.”).

So then, I set up a little exercise to record my glaze process as a way to see what the lens would do (in spite of my incompetency).  I learned several things during my self-imposed drill.  Two of the most notable:

1. Don’t rely on the auto focus (AF).  I employed the AF and timer for most of the shots because my hands were otherwise occupied with glazing.

2. As if I hadn’t already realized, this exercise amplified the fact that my glaze process is tedious.

Apply a fairly thin layer of slip* over the drawn area.

With a sponge and water, wipe back the slip; leaving the color in the recesses of the drawing.

Cleaned up drawn image on bisque.

A quick dip over the drawn area in a glossy clear glaze.  Thin application.
(AF frustration!)

When the glaze can be handled without marring the newly applied glaze, dry foot (remove glaze) the bottom.  I also clean the clear glaze from the interior foot ring so I can apply a color glaze in there later in the process.

Carefully clean off the clear glaze with a sponge from all areas that will be glazed with a color later.

Wax to cover only the areas glazed with the clear glaze.

Go to lunch!
Need to wait at least two hours for the wax to set up.  Though, in the Arizona heat, it’s still a bit soft after two hours.  However, allowing for much more time would dry the moisture in the bisqueware; creating a whole new set of problems.

Dip the piece in the second, color glaze.  Quickly sponge any residual glaze off the waxed areas.

Dry foot (again).  This time, leave the glaze in the foot ring.

Lastly, clean up the edge of the color glaze where it meets the waxed area.

Ready to be loaded into the kiln!

*For all the purists out there: I use the terms ‘slip’ and ‘engobe’ interchangeably (The stuff in my throwing bucket…that would be slurry).

Mistaké Slip ^5-6  (pronounced: mis-tock-ee)
Yes, that actually says ‘mistake’.  The urban legend is that a grad student was trying to develop a stoney glaze and mistakenly created this slip.  The revised pronunciation was an attempt to provide some legitimacy and confuse the undergraduates.

EPK or Grolleg 50

Custer  25

Flint     25

add: Macaloid  3

~for mid-range (^1-4), substitute Nepheline Syenite for Custer.

This slip is compatible on bisque (for most clay bodies…test, test, test) when applied thinly.

This Is How the Work Gets Done, Charlie Peacock.

My faith in the kiln sitter has been shaken since I had a pyrometric bar fuse to the sensing rod on the sitter.  Overfired the load and warped shelves.  Created several redundant shelf sculpures that took endless hours to chisel apart (no fun).  So then, I make every attempt to be back when the witness cone goes down.

This firing is the first I’ve done since May.  Feeling a bit unproductive during these sizzling summer months.  Nevertheless, I have lived vicariously through a few ceramic artists’ blogs – people that seem to have more creative energy than I ever will.  They are not just productive, but prolific.  (Wow, feeling tinges of guilt…call me a slacker)  I guess I should be doing much more.

But, the day only has so many hours.  And, frankly, there is a correlation between the dry summer heat and clay work.  That delicate balance to successfully deal with handles without them cracking (tea bowls vs. coffee mugs)…or the precise hour available to trim when the clay is still cooperative (light, well designed work vs. paperweight).  If you do any decorative surface work early in the process, your window is shorter still.

Excuses? eh….

What I’ve taken away from those prolific producers of ceramic wares is that I’m not them.  Ceramics.  Clay.  Art…is what I do.  I love what I do.  Create.  On many levels it’s how I communicate – through process, image, surface and occupied space.

However, it is not who I am.  If I were to make a list of roles I fill, ceramic artist would be but one.  Those roles will change over time.  But, who I am will remain constant.  I am a child of God, a follower of Christ.  That doesn’t change.  Yet, it drives the ways and means of the things I do.

Fabens

What I do is secondary and clay would follow things like wife, mom, friend, chief cook and bottle washer, preferred human obsession to our quirky dog (seperation issues), et. al….

I suppose until clay makes it’s way closer to the top of the list, I will never be as productive as some artists.  I think it important to keep perspective.  What I do is not necessarily who I am but an avenue to be myself.

(Man, it’s getting hot in here!)

Mark Your Calendars!  Plan to Attend!

Cap, Cup and Mug Sale, Show and Trade

October 7-8, 2011
Friday, 6-9pm
Saturday, 9am-4pm

dessadog studio
1410 W. Guadalupe Rd, bldg. 1 ste. 103
Gilbert, AZ 85233

~a sale of handmade cups and mugs by more than 30 local artists.
~bring in a new knit cap or socks for Set Free Ministries and receive a 10% discount on one cup or mug.

~sketch detail

However, life markers don’t always seem the result of a happy first; not always moving forward.  Sometimes they make me sit still (if just for a little while), maybe even turn away.  Perhaps semantics.  But, that’s sort of how things roll around in my head.

Visually, I see milestones marked with a gold star, an endearing awkward photo, a framed dollar bill.  Whereas a life marker might be denoted by a wrestling of wills, vulnerable prayer and petition, revelation.  One might lead to the other – a first job develops character and independence.  They sometimes cross each other – the accomplishment of graduation and the beginning of a new reality.  Despite the fuzzy edges, they feel so very different.

As this semester was coming to an end, I was fielding a lot of student questions.

• What next?
• What do I do with this passion?
• Where do we go from here?

Common queries as students begin to look ahead.  The questions, answers, and discussions brought me back to a languishing photo I had taken for a drawing.  The image is one of struggle and determination; an altar.  A marker as a reminder that God has revealed Himself  – at this time, in this place, for His purpose.

Once classes were finished, I started a bit of research and began a little ear bending (thanks, Monica). The dialogue continues as I consider those times in my life that have brought about a transformed vision; revelation.  The tumbling of the idea of life markers is distracting, sometimes painful.  The struggle is part of the process.  Apropos.

In the works!

The Cap, Cup, and Mug Sale, Show and Trade
October 7 and 8, 2011

Jeremy Briddell, Four and Two, 2004.

That year, I was sitting out the tour.  My studio was slated for demolition by the town.  We’d lost our fight…or resigned ourselves to move on.

The year off would require that I reapply and be juried back into the tour the following year.  As we organized the artists’ images (an impressive lot of work), I commented to myself…out loud, “I may not make it back in the tour.”

On the heals of my statement, Jeremy Briddell replied, “A room full of artists and not enough self-esteem to fill a thimble.”  Brief silence was followed by a chorus of affirmation.

Through the semester I encourage students to enter shows.  My attempts to top off the thimble are often resisted.  Students generally present their hesitation by stating that they don’t know what to do.  I offer to help them – proof read bios and statements, and take images if necessary.  I’ve been known to bribe students with extra credit for entering shows – no need to be accepted.  I just want them to go through the process.  They resist.  I heard somewhere that a room full of artists couldn’t fill a thimble with self esteem.

This exhibition season I’d like to note a few shows that include the work of friends and fellow artists, former students, and current students:

AZ Clay Annual Exhibit, March 18 – April 16, 2010

Shemer House of Fun, April 21 – May 25, 2010
Shemer Art Center and Museum

Gila River Review: Online Literary Journal at Chandler-Gilbert Community College
Spring 2011, Issue 3

Arte Latino en la Ciudad, May 6 – 27, 2010
Phoenix Center for the Arts

Easter, 1970. Ft. Bliss, Texas. (l-r) Tammy, Don, me.

There are few pluses growing up in a military family.  But, for what we went without, we didn’t miss.  So, I guess the pluses outweighed the minuses.  The balance was really closer to a cause and effect relationship.  For example, our medical and dental needs were taken care of.  That’s a plus.  However, stitches and novacain were administered sparingly.  As a result, minor injuries were never motivation to visit the ER and you took care of your teeth.

Also, military families have more opportunity than most to see the world (you moved a lot).  Even on the heels of my dad’s retirement, I ended up in three different high schools.  Being the new kid can be tough – more difficult in adolescence.  Seems making friends is easier when you’re hanging off the monkey bars, turning cartwheels on the black-top and still have cooties.

The new kid learns to survive.  I’ve been known to comment that I’m not overly impressed or easily intimidated by people.

The lesson begins early.  The thing is, if I’m unduly impressed by someone, I run the risk of compromising my beliefs.  In the military community, you are instilled with the ideal that you stand for something bigger than yourself.  The kid easily impressed by the playground hot shot ends up sacrificing his Friday milk money on an ice cream sandwich for the big guy on campus.  It’s a virtual dairy fast for the intimidated kid; that nickel amounts to collateral for the priviledge of being ignored.

Still, though people don’t intimidate me, situations can.  There’s this…I can’t necessarily control the situation or environment around me.  Hard to figure.  So, yeah…Dr. PhD Harvard or Rock Star Joe…pish!  But, an exhibition opening or dinner party (is there broccoli in my teeth?), they make me nervous.  Clearly out of my comfort zone.

To help stay my fears, I prioritize.  First on my list, find an enabler – someone who will help me through the event while dismissing my nervous tics as excitement.

With my list in hand, I’m planning something bigger than me.  An event.  The project is in the “throw the idea out to a few people” stage to see if there is any interest.  So far, the comments have been encouraging.  There will be much to undertake (intimidating).  I’ll not let you into the loop yet – still have a few cats to corral.

~The 10th Annual Self-Guided Ceramics Studio Tour
We had a great tour.  The weather was near perfect – less a little drizzle on Sunday.  I took the opportunity to chat with old friends, former students and meet several new-to-me clay enthusiasts…oh, and sold a bit of work too.  Good times!  Thanks for coming out!

About 16 years ago, we sold that house to a couple that fell in love with the open floor plan, built in shelving, and hardwood floors.  Things they said reminded them of home (wherever that was).  They were comfortable.

~oh, so thankful for change

Perhaps too comfortable.

As I drove past the house, I noticed that they never changed the café curtains and fabric insets on the interior window shutters.  You may think nothing of keeping the same curtains for so many years (grandma did).  I understand that.  However, one of the rooms was our son’s nursery/toddler room.  So then, the primary polka-dot trimmed sunny yellow curtains hung in the window…still.  Supposing they used that room for a young child, their sweet little bundle or joy would be 15 years old today!  These people were way too comfortable.

Comfortable can be a good thing in that it provides a sense of security.  But comfortable also grows stale and can isolate; keep someone from learning, growing, stepping out, taking risks…changing.  Change is scary and necessary.  Too often we fight change.  Honestly, change is going to happen whether you choose to participate or not.  Committing to the latter simply magnifies the fear; overshadowing the lesson.

In my sculpture class, I have purposefully restricted technique applications to force students to change what they are comfortable with (I’ve been referred to as ‘the mean instructor’ – and a few other creative monikers – on more than one occasion).  But, just to be sure the students are stretching and pushing themselves, I also require that they work with a familiar material.  My goal is for them to take risks; to work with the familiar in an unfamiliar manner.  They are uncomfortable.  They fight and struggle.  It’s frustrating.

In the end, they learn; creating options they never thought possible.  One day they may appreciate the process – though, not any time soon.

~mark your calendars!

The 10th Annual Self-Guided Ceramics Studio Tour
February 26-27, 2011
10am-4pm each day

I will be hosting three very talented artists: Genie Swanstrom, Sam Hodges and Sarah Brodie at my studio (#14).  Demontrations will take place at each studio site throughout the weekend.

This link will take you to The Ceramic Research Center’s Events page where you can download a map with the demontration schedule.