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I respectfully refer to a friend of mine as a ‘granola potter’ because of his tendency to pare the studio process down; creating is simplified, glazing limited and firing loose.

photo: Amy Mcrary

For clarification: a granola potter is the mountain man potter living in self-imposed isolation in the wilds of Timbuktu (note: hypothetical location.  Feel free to choose any other appropriate geographic area).  This potter digs his own clay from the side of the river bed…any crawfish caught scurrying from the overturned rocks qualifies as dinner.  He throws his simple functional forms from the coarse local clay on a treadle wheel.  He makes effective use of a few simple glazes made from fewer raw materials with unidentifiable organics, spit and apple peels thrown in for color.  Color.  There is white.  Well, really it’s just light with generous iron speckling.  There are greens, browns and a varied assortment of brownish greens.

treadle wheel

~treadle potter's wheel

The whole granola potter ideal is about simplicity.  Simplicity of form, process and life.

Still, my potter friend isn’t atop an isolated mountain, cranking out pots on his treadle wheel while simultaneously generating enough electricity to boil water.  No, my friend is part of academia.  So…the conflict begins.  The nature of the learning process is to allow for risk taking and options.   The teaching environment includes the adrenaline junky, addicted to the rush of opening a newly fired glaze load.  Only to find them self with shoe boxes full of glaze tests – never zeroing in on the few glazes with potential.  This is the sort of student that tries the granola ideals of my friend.  The simplicity is lost…no one needs 15 slightly different, nearly identical rutile blues.  Focus.  Apply the best one to some actual work already!

~rutile blue

While the granola potter can become comfortable, maybe even complacent, in his work, the glaze testing fanatic can get so caught up in the process that they never apply the knowledge gained by the risk.  It’s important to find some balance in the studio.  True enough, I can really only manage a few glazes at a time.  However, I still want the option to move around or away with abandon in order to focus.  Refocus.  Redirection can only happen if we are willing to take a few risks; investigating options that can be feasibly managed.  I really only need one reliable blue.  But green…well, that’s a different story.

For those of you livin’ the dream:

Michael Larose’s Crawfish Etouffee
~this is a microwave version, so best get your treadle wheel going.

1 stick margarine (8 TBS.)
1 C. onion, finely chopped
2/3 C. green pepper, finely chopped
1/2 C. celery, finely chopped
1-1 1/2 lbs. crawfish tails, peeled (about 3 C.)
1/4 C. green onions, finely chopped
2 TBS. flour
1/4 C. parsley chopped or 1 TBS. parsley flakes
2 tsp. tomato paste
1 C. hot water
salt and pepper to taste
dash of garlic powder
1 TBS. ketchup
1/2 tsp.+  Tabasco

In 2 1/2 quart deep dish, put margarine, onion, green pepper and celery.  Microwave on high 10 to 12 minutes or until tender.  Add crawfish tails and green onions.  Microwave on high 5 minutes, cover with lid.  Stir in flour.  Add parsley, tomato paste, water, salt, pepper, garlic powder, ketchup and Tabasco sauce.  Microwave on 70% power 10 minutes, uncovered until thick.  Stir once or twice during cooking.  Serve over rice.

Crawfish Etouffee

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I few weeks ago I subbed in a level 2 ceramics class at the college.  I’ve been out of the classroom for about three years.  It felt good to teach again.

I was asked to demo bowls on the potter’s wheel, trim feet and discuss creating sets.  When I give throwing demos I always warn students that I will likely go about the process in a very different way than their instructor.

By warn I mean,
“students pay attention, there’s more to this than you think”.
Or,
“watch closely, that part of the process you’ve been struggling with may present itself in a new way”.
Or,
“I’m not just doin’ this to hear myself talk.  Listen up and ask questions”.

I find that potter’s have a sort of regional dialect to throwing.  Add to that the potter’s economy of handling the clay and you’ve got a whole new process.

One of the questions asked was about some of my tools.  Potter’s tend to make a lot of their tools.  While this is probably true for many jobs that require physical equipment, ceramic artists have a rich history for creating very personal tools specific to their process.

In particular, the question was about my throwing stick.  I was taught how to make this tool when I first learned to throw.  Those wimpy Popsicle stick like throwing tools that come in the basic student’s kit just don’t do the job efficiently – if at all.  Beginning students find this to be frustratingly true the first, third or maybe the tenth time that confounded stick ends up skewered into the undercut of their pot, hypnotically spinning while they attempt to stop the wheel in their panic to save the piece.

made tools

~handmade tools

~from top:
platter rib and aluminium finishing tools, by Tomas Mendoza.
twisted cut-off wires.
throwing sticks – (left to right) they become smaller with use.

repurposed tools

~repurposed tools

~from left:
adhesive comb, dog syringe, dental tools, spark plug brush, fork, printmaking tools, watercolor tool.

Chinese tools

~traditional Chinese tools

~from left:
mouth glaze sprayer, trimming tool, finishing tools made of Water Buffalo horn, sculpting knives, rib made of Water Buffalo horn.

 

handmade brushes

~handmade brushes

~from top:
Chinese natural brushes of a variety of animal hair and feathers.  Brushes that I’ve made – smaller two of goat hair, larger made from dog fur.

If you’re in the neighborhood….
My functional work us now being carried by Practical Art in central Phoenix.  Be sure to stop in sometime.

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the real McCoy

The Rembrandt Research Project was established in 1968 to determine bona fide Rembrandt’s apart from those works of his students.  In Dutch tradition, students would closely emulate after the artist in the artist’s school.  Often the student and artist would collaborate – particularly on portraiture.

Imitation was a means to teach and develop young artists in the ways and processes of a master artist.  This traditional approach has led to much confusion as to who created what work.  Indeed, if the experts debate the authenticity of a piece, we might say that the Rembrandt school was quite successful.

Forward, encaustic on panel, 72"x60", 2006 ~ Mark Perlman

During my years in the classroom, it wasn’t uncommon to have the class work on a composition in the manner of a master.  Like the Dutch tradition, the objective was for the student to learn from replication.  My aim was for the student to glean from the artist and perhaps adapt a bit into their own work.  The intent was never for the student to become a studious imitator – creating copies of established master works.  Still, there is the risk that a student will become so comfortable with their copy work that they never take from the original process, but adopt it.

Several years ago I gave a day long workshop that focused on drawing processes on clay.  In my approach, the process can be complicated.  The workshop attendees took notes and photos, asking many questions. 

Man in the Red Trees, color pencil, graphite, collage and ink, 18"x14.5", 2008 ~ Kurt Kemp

A few months afterward, a student emailed an image of a small tile she had created after the process I had shown during the workshop.  I was quite impressed with the tile.  Her image – a portrait – was soft, ethereal.

Over the years we’ve spoken several times.  On one occasion she was excited to show me a platter she had waiting to be bisque fired.  The platter had a delicate image of a figure.  I asked her how she was creating some of the shadows and edges.  As she began to share, she punctuated her explanation with, “just like you.”  Well, no – I explained – not like me.  These images were very different.  Her response was that she was ‘doing it all wrong.”  Again, no.  She had taken my process and developed them to her work and it was beautiful.

Ephemeral Passage, white stoneware, 15 tiles each 18.25"x19"x1.5", 2003 ~ Jeanne Otis

Students need to find their own way with all the options before them.  The last thing you want is a student creating copy work – particularly if it’s inadequate.

‘That looks like Beth’s work…on a bad hair day!’

The scenario made me think back to my instructors.  Did I take from the process or adopt the process?  So, with some trepidation I did a little research.  What if I’m doing copy work…eek!  In the end, I can see the bits and pieces I took and made my own.  Assuredly, these talented artists will see no copy work from me.

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love a good mystery

Saturday, September 12th was the second day of a two day glaze application workshop I was conducting at a local community college.  The first day was held two weeks previous.  For the most part, this was intended to be a quick application refresher for students who felt a little stuck in a rut; a vehicle to step out of old habits.  One sign that your students are stuck in a rut: the zombie-like gaze when in close proximity to the studio glaze area; holding tight to their bisque ware only to thoughtlessly baptize the piece in the closest bucket of blue glaze.  Yeah…stuck.  This workshop included a mixture of experienced and intermediate students looking for motivation or inspiration to begin to see the glaze process as part of the design process.

The second day our intent was to look at student work as they applied what they had learned two weeks before.  However, our “design meets glaze application” quickly deconstructed.  The design process was halted by recent glaze mysteries.

The mystery was two-fold.  First, the tried and true glaze that suddenly gave unreliable results.  Assuming the firing process is consistent – as consistent as firing can be – usually the mystery is finding out which raw material is contaminated.  Or, discovering that one of your ingredients is newly supplied by a different manufacturer or being mined in a new location.  Some mysteries are solved while others we live with.

The second mystery concerned a ^9-10 rutile blue glaze that blistered.  Not always.  But, often enough to dedicate a good deal of creative energy to the shard heap.  As mysteries go, some are true mysteries, like the ones you live with.  This one just qualified as fussy.

Students said this glaze worked 50% of the time.  Really?  Why continue?  I assured them that they could create a new, more reliable glaze of similar character (minus the blisters, of course) in less time than it would take to do the detective work to ‘fix’ this one.  Yes…but the fussy glazes are always so alluring.  It does seem to work that way.  After suggesting the abandonment of this glaze, I was met with resolute expressions; persuading me to follow-up with a few options to begin their detective work.  Fussy glaze.

test: transparent green glaze

test: transparent green glaze

Just as the students were instructed, I also ran a few tests.  One transparent glaze. Two glazes that broke with the surface texture and one that should have mimicked the surface with it’s fluid nature.  The transparent test was by far the most successful in conjunction with  the intent…the design of the piece.  From here I’ll develop a color palette with this glaze and while I’m at it I’ll address the crazing…more fussing over a fussy glaze.

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