Being an Expert

The Master of the Pot


One thing you can usually say about an artist's work: It will change.

I've seen lots of my fellow potter's work and progress and change over the years.

And I have observed that a clay artist's works can change more radically and sometimes more quickly than other disciplines.

A contributing factor may found in the very nature of artists who chose to work in clay.

Maybe it is because of the versatility of clay.

Maybe clay artists are naturally disposed to be more inquisitive and adventurous than, say, a painter or printmaker.

Maybe it is because of the material we work with; the huge range of raw materials and variety of techniques available for potters to explore.

Many of us come to clay from a variety of other disciplines.

Clay is very receptive to the application of other techniques. It can be woven, printed on, painted, drawn on, paired with metals and woods, sand blasted, etched, patinated, etc.

My interest in clay has always been exploring it's versatility. Building from slabs, wheel throwing, design and solving problems.

I spent time doing historical research. I was very lucky to be in places where I could see actual examples of many kinds of examples from prehistoric to modern works.

I liked trying to duplicate some of the techniques just by working out how things were done. I'm not one who likes to go to workshops. Workshops sometimes turn out little "Mini-Mes" of the teacher. However, if you learn the technique, it behoves you to make it your own and re-interpret the technique into your own style.


On the other hand, some artists find a formula that works for them and they stick with it. They make the same thing over and over again. There's certainly nothing wrong with that. If you have a good thing going and it intrigues you, go for it. There's lots to be said for establishing a trademark.

In some ways, it's very good because they become closely identified with a certain form or style and it becomes their identity. In the world of art merchandising, a quantitative source is a valued thing. The public at large and art dealers can pin down and put a price tag on easily-identified signature work. It fits into the commercial framework.

There is no 'right way' to make art. The key is figuring out what works for you.


Become the expert of  YOUR work.

Book: Art and Fear

I highly recommend this book to any artist!

Confidence builder, sympathetic sounding board,

No, you are Not crazy.

 Encouragement resource.

This book is all of this and more.


Any creative person can benefit from  this book.  Read it through or take snippets to ponder.

Dip into when something doesn't go right.

Artistic frustration can be as sharp as a knife.  If we didn't feel it; we wouldn't be artists in the first place.

When you are at a low ebb and all around you are crooking their eyebrows and looking at you sidewise, read it.


Available from Amazon and as a PDF version at http://www.libertyeyeschool.com/ap2d.cfm?subpage=1655939

GET IT!

Jottings: "Art Advice"

Since, at the moment I don't have access to clay or equipment, I have been spending time "cleaning out" my computer.

 "My dirty old computer"-that commercial cracks me up.

++++++

**Segway Warning**

Can you become a computer hoarder?
I think so.

++++++

Anyway


In my frustration and because my MAC is now screaming to me that the Startup Disc is full and I can't download things and need to unload files,  I ran across a stored document called,


 Art Advice: Random Thoughts about You and Your Work

The first 10 years are the hardest.

Break a lot of bad pots.

Keep a lot of bad pots, but only as a reference.

Surrender to your art. 

Recognize it is an organic need for you. 

Don't apologize for taking time to pursue it.

Follow every impulse. 

Do It, 

Even though it has not been done before by you or anyone else. 

Even if it seems crazy, 

Do it.

Don’t persist in trying to ‘heal’ a bad pot; chuck it and make a better one.

Strive to know your flaws and work to correct them.

Learn from your mistakes.. 

Make notes about your mistakes so you will remember them.

Keep your best work.

Find other artists to talk to. They understand creative madness.

Flex your creative muscles every day:  

Sketch, read, dream, plan, make:  

Whatever needs doing and whatever dreaming need to be dreamed. 

Make it a daily habit. 

Inches add up to miles.

Photograph everything you make.

Take notes about your work. Your initial intention, the happy mistakes that happen, techniques, inspirations, whatever you will need to think about, whatever you see or do. You may think you'll remember later, but sometimes ideas are fleeting. 

You don't want them to get away.

Search out your own truth and keep returning to your own themes.

Keep pictures or examples of your inspirations.

Copying an IDEA is good; duplicating another artist’s WORK---not so good.  

It robs them and robs you.

Build a reference library: Keep the books that are relevant, sell the others

Avoid looking at ugly.

Listen to everybody. 

Ignore bad advice.  

Keep only what feeds you.

Strive to master the medium.

Don’t worry about Style, worry about Skill.

Set your standards high. 

I mean HIGH. 

So high you will always have to chase them.

Don’t worry or ask yourself, ‘Is it good enough?’ 

It’s good enough until you can make better.

Find your market niche.

If you need a tool, figure out how to find it or make it.  

If you can’t, find a good craftsman to make it for you.

Take care of your tools.

Keep learning. Don't rely on somebody else to teach everything you need to know. 
Teach yourself whenever you can; you will learn better that way.

Find your own best work environment, be it solitude or group, silence, music or talk, sloppy or neat, etc. 

If a piece does not sell, pack it up and don't look at it for a long time. Then, unpack it and look at it again. Decide if it should be kept, sold or destroyed.

Don't offer anything for sale you would be embarrassed to see again.

Live with your pots. What looks great today may not look so great tomorrow. And surprisingly, vice versa.

Don't get into a rut. 
Everybody's work changes even a little bit. Embrace it.

Don't take yourself too seriously, but seriously enough.

Who Does She Think She Is?

This film aired on PBS this weekend.   Although it was first aired in 2008, it addresses the dilemma of women artists both in regard to recognition and in the conflicts and pulls of home, children, partners and their art.

It hit the mark with examples of several women artists who have achieved recognition in their fields. For me, it was like getting a good thump in the chest.  (And also a good "kick up the backside" to get out there to my studio and get to work!)

An extensive showing schedule is posted on the website. Check it out.

Note: Although this is primarily a women's issue, men who stay at home can also feel these pressures of  guilt and duality upon their work.

Art and Fear

"Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested."

Sir Francis Bacon, English author, courtier and philosopher (1561 - 1626)

Art & Fear, Observations On The Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Sayles and Ted Orland is one of those books that should be dipped into occasionally and chewed or to be swallowed and digested--whichever way is the most useful to you. It is the kind of a book that should be on hand in your studio, bookshelf or nightstand.

Here is the opening sentence:

"Making art is difficult. We leave drawings unfinished and stories unwritten. We do work that does not feel like our own. We repeat ourselves. We stop before we have mastered our materials or continue long after their potential is exhausted. Often the work we have not done seems more real in our minds than the pieces we have completed. And so questions arise. How does art get done? Why, often does it not get done? And what is the nature of the difficulties that stop so many who start?"

Very deep questions indeed. I plead guilt of many of these very things.

As you can see, this book is written by artists whose words resonate with other artist and with our particular and unique dilemmas. It isn't a book about "Art Or Craft". It isn't a book about airy theories or fluffy ArtSpeak.

If you are stuck or wondering or twisting and turning about your work, have doubts or need to hear a friendly and understanding artist's voice, this is a book to chew on.

Thinking with your Hands

Making pottery is like thinking with your hands.

There's this almost mythic connection between a part of your mind that commands your hands and touch and that place in your head where you daydream.

The brain shifts into neutral--like coasting.

A free-floating, altered, but intuitive state--almost self-hypnosis.

Is it shifting into Alpha Brain waves?

Is meditation the same kind of state? Like driving down long, boring freeway, looking at the ribbon of asphalt laid out to the horizon?

Or like standing a steam-filled shower--just you and the water drumming on your back--and you're just there; Being?

Throwing clay: Your hands and your mind suspended in a dream. That's when you make magic.

Reading Hugh MacLeod

Hugh MacLeod, a corporate guru/artist says, "Ignore Everybody" when it comes to creativity. His book of the same title has been on the New York Times best seller list.

See his cartoons at http://gapingvoidgallery.com/ He doesn't mince words, this boy.

I admire people who can make a living out of 'thin air'. He started making doodles on the backs of business cards and has shepherded this idea into a roaring business that seems to grow expediently.

I'm looking forward to reading his new book. Flipping through the chapter headings, I can see even though the book is aimed at corporate types and addresses creativity, a working artist can certainly benefit from reading it. After all, work ethic is work ethic.

Feed Your Inner Potter II - Internet Images

I keep files on my computer desk top labeled: Reference Clay, My Work, Teapots.

Whenever I download digital images of my work, I stick them into My Work. That way, I can keep better track of what I've photographed lately and what I have in my files already. I have a Resume, Portfolio and Shows Applications file folders located within My Work folder. It's a good way to keep track of where you are with your digital records.

The other files, Reference Clay, Reference Jewelry and Teapots are for images I run across on the web that I want to remember and look at some more. Or I might print them off for my paper files that I take to the studio for personal reference. With a Mac you can click on an image, hold down the curser and move it off a page onto the desktop. Then it can be sorted and filed for later viewing.

I started an image file 'way back in college in conjunction with study in commercial art. The idea was if you wanted to do an illustration, having actual photographs from publications and your own making of faces, locations and articles would help in pulling it all together for a composition.

I began filing references for paintings and graphic designs also. Loose examples in a file folder were much more accessible than images in a book or magazine or a group of slides or photographs. Until the computer, managing slides and photos always seemed to be clumsy and difficult.

Today, If you want to have an image within easy reach, you can even photograph it, download the image into your computer, print it off onto paper and file it in your personal files.

Tile piece by Bede Clark. Isn't it great?

When I tend to get too tight with glaze application, I can take a closer look at this jewel and get inspiration from it.

Since that beginning in college, I've kept up the idea of an image file. Over many years the idea has grown into many other files like travel, architectural design and interior files, antiques and furniture references, ethnic clothing, weaving, quilting and specialized sewing like French hand sewing.

I have a whole section of art business with shows, consignment form examples, information articles.

I have painting references such as faces, landscapes, abstracts. Jewelry files, paper box making, holiday designs, 2-dimensional graphics, handmade books files are also there.

I also keep files of my work in design and commissions. They take up 3 drawers in my office.

In my studio I have 3 more drawers filled with images of clay pieces--teapots, plates and platters, animal images, sculptures, drawings, patterns, booth display layouts etc.

There may be a photograph of a beautiful piece of fabric filed in the glaze ideas drawer--a motif in the design could be the beginning of a design on a pot, for example.

The rule is, if I look at anything in a magazine or on the web for more than a few seconds, it goes into the 'to be filed' stack or desktop folder.

When you think about it, 6 file drawers is not a lot of space, but once in a while, I purge them removing outdated images, information or ideas I am no longer interested in.

The system has served me well when I need an image for reference or to re-engage with an idea.

Recent images:

What You Do Today Affects Tomorrow

When I was working at a 'regular job', I commuted an hour+, worked eight hours plus, sometimes attended an evening class, commuted back home, did the regular house thing, cooking, cleaning, etc. went to bed and started all over again the next day. I was up before the sun and many times fell into bed long past evening time.

Weekends were spent catching up on things that had been left hanging during the week like food shopping, running errands, the million other things that have to be attended to in life.

While I liked my job, felt I was learning new things, living on a small farm in a beautiful valley, and was reasonably happy with my life, many times I was just too tired or wrung out to pick up my art and do anything with it. For me, art requires a bit more peace.

True, I did have windows here and there where I was commuting on a ferry or waiting in the queue to board that didn't require me doing anything but sit. And I sometimes read, ate, slept or just zoned out. It wasn't a bad commute.

One day I realized I was actually grieving about losing my desire to make art. That's when I made a promise to myself. I would FIND TIME EVERY DAY to do SOMETHING to "feed my art". And I would carve it out wherever I could find a few spare minutes.

I would sketch.

Read an article from one of my magazines.

Visit a supply store and catch up on new products.

Go somewhere to see new works.

Plan or get a new project going.

Sort through my stash of supplies.

Interact with other artists.

Think.

Soon, I felt I was doing something. My mood lifted. I began to find more time to work and made some good things. I even arranged for a showing of my pieces in the gallery space where I was working. I didn't feel like I was just plodding along.

Even though it was slow going, this time period helped me find focus and was the basis for the kind of work I did for many years to come. It was a creative seed bed. I would have missed that whole evolution if I hadn't woken up one day and realized I was wasting time I could be using for myself instead of handing it all to other demands.

Sometimes you have to be selfish for your art......

"We are what we continually do."

---attributed to Aristotle.

Note: This little sculpture was cut out of a flat slab of clay. Patterned from a piece of cardboard, the form was cut out, then gently opened up to make it stand. A cardboard 'tent' held the legs apart while the piece dried. The collar is 3-D and fitted when the piece was drying. The black chain was from an old necklace. Lettering was done over the dry glaze prior to firing. Cone 5/6 oxidation.

Rules for Artists

-- The symbol for Zen--

Some time ago, I was reading an article about the art of writing. Famous writers were asked, "What advice would you give new writers?" While it was specific to writers, in some respects the basic ideas could apply to artists just as well. The article was rather long and detailed and I won't go into it here. However, it got me thinking. What would I tell a new potter who was just starting out?

I began jotting down thoughts as they came to me. They weren't in any kind of order. I saved them in a file and from time to time, when a new thought hit my brain, I added it. I put it aside. Then, a few days ago as I was going to sleep, two more ideas occurred to me. I jotted them down on the sheet of paper on my nightstand.

Looking at the list again, I decided to break it down into sections. I will write more later in coming entries.

Overall Philosophy Department: "The first 10 years are the hardest."

This is a quote from the writers' list. It is sort of a joke and not a joke. The same statement could hold true for artists.

It's great to have an innate gift, but talent undeveloped is still just that. Mastery is the prize. It takes time and work to develop talent into the sum of skills with the materials, understanding and cultivation of your own technique and using your gift to bring artistic thought into reality.

There is a book entitled 'Finding One's Way with Clay'. That's a great title and a good book to have. You must figure out our own unique path in the clay otherwise, the work is not yours; it's someone else's.

You may take classes, and seek out instructors for workshops, pour over books on aesthetics, technique and materials. You might pick the brains of colleagues and suppliers. But in the end it is just you and the materials and time.

And really, what could possibly be better than that?

I dub thee Master of the Pot.

Work

Creativity for me is not a smooth track, a steadily flowing river.

It is torrent and and stillness; raging flood and and draught.

In my heart of hearts, I think the quiet is just as important as the intensity of working.

But the quiet worries me. I feel guilty within it. I wonder if I'm playing hooky. Granted, I've got a lot on my plate at the moment.

And when I have no control over this absence from work, as in being away from home or attending to something that suspends my studio work, I feel no dig at my conscience.

But when I choose to avoid the studio and busy myself with things like, reading or vacuously watching some kind of mind-waste on TV, THEN I worry.

Nose to the Grindstone, Me

Is it because I grew up thinking I should be productive and fill my days with useful, practical, productive work? Certainly no one pressed this ideology on me; it was/is of my own making. In the past, I have thought I needed to be productive every waking moment. Not just art, but in everything. For instance, if I sat down to watch television, I should be doing something with my hands.

I couldn't just sit at the beach, I had to improve my mind. I read instead of relaxing. Lay on a pool float? Nah-swim laps.

Busy hands and busy minds. Definitely not the imperialistic idea that idleness was the right of the privileged class.

A friend of mine who grew up in Europe and knew how to really relax and enjoy it, used to chide me about what she referred to as my "Puritan Tradition" problem.

Maybe she's right.

Knowledge

Once, while I was in college, a professor said, "The more you learn about a subject, the less defined it becomes."

"Whaaaat?" I thought. "That can't be true. The more you know about something the more you should be an expert on it. The more you should be able to pin it down. Expert knowledge leads to a point, a finite amount of information and precise definition," my mind screamed.

Well, now I think he was right.

The end result of study and search into any field, the more fuzzy it becomes. It doesn't result in a point; it results in a fan. The more variations you discover and the more interlocking happens with other areas of study.

So, it's almost like the more you know, the less you really know. Like going from a tunnel to a hall, then a small room, larger rooms to an dense jungle to a forest to a plain to a beach to an ocean to the air.

I hope when I die, I will finally know everything.

If you're interested in the many different ways thinking happens, http://www.thinking.net/ might be a good jumping off place. I know I plan to mine this site for a while.

SIGN YOUR POTS!

Whose Pot is This?

It is reoccurring theme that appears on CLAYART discussion list as well as many other pages on the internet.

"Can anyone tell me who made this pot?".

Most of the time no one knows. Even fellow potters.

I find this most puzzling.

Artists who work in two dimensions nearly always sign their work. It is expected to find a signature or distinctive mark in the corner or on the reverse.

So why don't potters do the same? Granted, we do not seem to have the same copyright issues of artists who could have their work reproduced in print form. But does that make it really any different? And we have considerably less space to work with for applying our signatures.

We in the West have been heavily influenced by oriental craftsmen over a long course of time and, the mystique of 'the unknown craftsman or artisan' has been associated in tandem with the aesthetic.

It seems to me to be a sort of dreamy romanticism that doesn't serve the artist of today. And believe me, the modern craftsmen of Japan as well as the rest of the world does not seek to be anonymous.

Identity = Income these days. Branding plays an enormous part in marketing just about anything. And any savvy artist who wants to make an income on their work must market it in the face of stiff competition.

The first step, of course, is to master your art--that goes without saying. Quality work speaks for itself. Sometimes style can be so distinctive that it renders signatures redundant, but not that often. And it's a mighty long road to THAT destination, I can tell you. You still are in the clutches of the publicity monster no matter how you cut it.

Note: A few minutes' search on the web resulted in these images.

The pots are marked, but the marks are not enough to identify the maker.

Take a look at the bold signature beautifuly incorporayed into the design on English artist Sandy Brown's platter. Believe me, everyone knows who made that piece.

Or you could take the Robert Arneson tack and just do portraits of yourself and/or use your name prominently.

Critique

Let's face it. You have to be your own critic.

You must step out of your own skin and look at each work with a cold eye.

You must decide whether to sell it or keep it; shelve it or smash it. The decision has to be made before it goes from your hand to the market place or into your archive-that collection you're saving for your thesis show, one man show, your new sales collection, your retrospective.

It's easy to fall in love with your own work. After all, this sum of your expression and skill distilled into one statement. This love affair can last a long time--sometimes years. One way I ameliorate this dilemma is to photograph my work as much as I can. Even if I sell a piece, I can always go back and review the form through images. I find it easier sell things I really loved if I can keep the picture.

I recently photographed one of these teapots for entry into a show. It is a repeat of one that had sold for an installation in Seattle some years ago. I decided to duplicate it. Look what happened when I did.

The old pot is on the right. The new pot is on the left.

(Please excuse the rather old, battered slide. Thank heavens I can take digital images.)

What a difference a few years make.

The newer pot has a better handle line and negative space. The old pot, a better body line.

The old pot has a better spout and more interesting legs.

The newer pot has a better glaze.

The old pot sits lightly on the surface as if it had just come to rest there. The new pot looks like it is sitting very solidly on the table.

The older pot has more 'life' and spontaneity. The new pot looks more 'put together' and 'of one piece.'

I like the faint line that subtlety divides the body of the new pot.

I like them both, each in their own way. And I suspect if I did another one, even though the form is limited to a few design elements, the new pot would have it's own personality as well.

P.S. "Considerations for Critiquing Claywork" by Lana Wilson, with additional contributions by Hayne Bayless, is an excellent article in the July/August issue of Clay Times.

Chaos

I live in chaos. Actually, I should say I live in the midst of chaos--Me, personally, I'm not in chaos.

There isn't a surface in my studio that isn't full of something. I have to clear out a place on the worktable to make anything. Doesn't bother me. It would drive some people crazy. And Thank God I don't have to clean it up every time I quit working. THAT would be work! Some time ago, I was comforted by seeing photos of Warren McKenzie's studio--just as messy as mine. I'm off the hook.

I also remember Paul Dresang saying in a workshop/demo that he had to clear out the 'detritus' to a 2-foot square in order to work. This is a man who makes wonderful, incredible, meticulous fool-the-eye clay pieces. Seeing his work, you would think he worked in a studio that was like a scientific lab.....

The mess functions as an index. I have shelves full of things that 'worked' and I want to be reminded of that in order to repeat it--shapes to repeat, glaze combinations that sing. What is referred to as "The Artist's Collection", as in the....

There's also things in other places that didn't work. Ideas in progress--things to do again, but with a different glaze, a form problem to solve, a piece that worked, but the glaze ran or the form cracked:

The bastard children of a good idea.

Besides, if I didn't keep them out, I'd forget them.