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.

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.

Logo Variation

Now that I have a new logo design and business cards set up, I can morph that into any kind of other card.

By removing the text under the logo, I can add "Thanks" and add an address, phone number, website address; virtually anything then create a new master for duplication.

I like to tape a note card to the bottoms of my bakeware that say things "Place in a cool oven" or "Microwave Safe", "Lead-free glaze" or "Microwave Safe - contains iron glaze; may be warm to the touch." And sometimes, "Not suitable for food".

Logo Experiments

I've been trying out some new logo ideas.  I need tags for my pots for an upcoming show and my old tags need to be refreshed, design-wise.

Since I did my last batch, I've changed computers and graphics programs.  What a pain! It required some redesigning to get a design resource sheet like this one done. I can take one of these rows and convert it into multiple repeats as a one-design master sheet. This sheet was done to see how new ideas would work out.

I started off this series by scanning one of the old hangtags and using that image, manipulated it around for a while trying different designs.  When I get something I like, I'll run off a couple of master sheets and put them into a dedicated folder so I can reprint different cards and tags as I need them.

On the sheet above, the first and third rows will probably be used for price tags because they will be printed in large batches and they take less ink to make.

The darker design will be used for more expensive items or for contact info cards, thank yous, or other special printing.

I will take each one of these 4 variations and make a master sheet of each.  That will give me 4 different logos to duplicate.

For a hangtag, I can run off a sheet and punch holes in the top, put in some black embroidery thread for the tie and attach them to the pots. The design must take into account that a hole will be punched in the top, so room has to be left for that. I want to see how the would look on a pot. There's a lot of difference in how they look on a sheet of paper in a row and how they will look individually.

A blaring, dark row will look entirely different as single tags. Likewise, a lighter design might turn out to be wimpy.  We'll see.










I like to use a creamy heavy paper for my printing. With a strong black and white design, you can print the cards off on any color paper.

It gets complicated, but there's lots you can do between a simple graphics program, a scanner and a good printer. Oh, and a big paper-cutter.

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.

Shows

Sometimes, when you're doing a show and you've set up your booth, when the doos open and the customers come in, the cosmos come into alignment.

The right work is sitting in your booth and the right customer appears and snaps it up.

Hallelujah!

This is exactly what happened with this salt and pepper.

You can almost see them coming. They zero right in on the item, scoop it up, don't quibble about the price.

This is a golden moment.

Don't let that customer escape. Talk to them while you wrap up and bag the item. Don't hurry.

You want to know this person. Find out why they like what they bought. How they plan to use it. Try to establish a rapport; a relationship. This is someone who 'gets' you and your work.

Gently suggest they join your mailing list. Let them know about your next show. Make sure they get your card and contact information. Invite them to your studio, if it's feasible

Maybe slip a little "Thank You" into the bag in the form of a small spoon rest, a coupon for 10% off, any little something that will be a surprise when they get home and open the bag. You want them to tell their friends about the piece they bought and the wonderful potter who made it.

Add them to your customer list when you get home.

Put a star by their name.

You want to see that person again.

Travel, Customer Relations and Breakage: A Story

When my husband was stationed in London with the Navy, the wives' club would charter a bus to go to the sales at the Royal Worcester/Spode factory. They had a large showroom with seconds, discontinued pieces and experimental samples at very good prices. We would descend on the place like locusts. It was great fun. The ride from London, though long, was enjoyable. We had lots of time to shop, loaded the bus baggage area with well-packed boxes, stopped someplace interesting to have a meal on the way back.

I liked visiting the museum as much as I liked shopping at the outlet. Most of the modern pieces were not to my taste. I did buy a very plain set of china--pure white with a wide and narrow gold band decoration-- and could pick up interesting serving pieces that coordinated with it.

On one trip, I found two experimental casseroles completely covered with gold glaze. They were never put into production. They are quite stunning.

Anyway, to the story:

A rather operatic lady arrived at the store while we were there and as she shopped, we had no trouble knowing where she was in the building because she was quite vocal. A "Hyacinth Bucket"** in the flesh! Her taste ran to ornate and expensive and she had sales ladies running to the back room to find pieces or sorting through the stock for matches.

She finally settled on a set of chargers (very like the example below or maybe these are the ones) with various paintings of fish. She kept up a loud dialog/monologue while she directed the packing and paid for her set.

When she left the building, the sound level dropped noticeably. Peaceful shopping resumed.

But not for long.

In a few minutes, she was back - a couple of octaves higher, a lot more volume and drama added.

It seems she had tripped on the steps Going Out To The Parking Lot, dropped her packages and broke some of the plates.

The sales ladies were sympathetic. But their concern changed to wide-eyed amazement when the lady demanded the company REPLACE THE BROKEN CHARGERS.

Everyone was aghast.

You could see the whites of the sales ladies' eyes all around. No one knew what to say. Except the lady and she was saying a lot. Every time someone tried to discuss the problem, she just got more agitated. She even mentioned suing them for an "unsafe step".

Well, you can hear it now, can't you?

Finally, one of the sales staff suggested the customer step to the back offices and talk with a supervisor. So, she an a couple of the sales people swirled through the back doors of the sales floor, through an echo-y hall and finally, somewhat muted, the saga of the accident and the demands were repeated.

Some time passed. We resumed our business.

Then the reverse whirlwind began to happen, She was coming back. This time, sounding less staccato, softer, less Wagnerian. She was nearly cooing.

They had agreed to replace the broken chargers! Sales ladies scurried. Plates were packed. A porter was summoned to help her with her packages to her car. She was cajoled out of the building. A huge sigh arose from the sales staff.

Royal Worcester/Spode had class.

**Keeping Up Appearances comedy series, BBC America

Funky Casserole

This small casserole, made in the form of a mizusashi*, is one I keep around in the studio. I like it's craziness and want to remind myself to do this kind of decoration again--but in variation.

Unfortunately, it was part of a group of pots I took for a review for a co-op gallery in a nearby town. I say unfortunately because when I got it back in the box of pots and unpacked it at home, the lid of this casserole was chipped--As in dropped.

Needless to say, I was very disappointed that no one said a thing to me about the accident. Even a "Sorry, someone dropped the piece during the jury process." Better yet, if they had offered to pay the sale price or even the wholesale price. Even just an apology would have been okay.

I know these things happen. I was once in a group gallery in a big show in downtown Seattle when a customer dropped and broke a very large and expensive pot. (Not mine, by the way.) What did she do? Nearly ran out the door!

Actually, all the potters had agreed that if anyone broke a piece, we would accept payment if offered, but just say, "These things happen," and let it go. Maybe take a name and number if the person offered and give that to the artist for them to settle the matter between them.

It can happen to anyone. I've dropped my own stuff on the studio floor and broken it to smithereens.

But why don't people have the fortitude to stand up and own up? Fear. Money.

I'm sure if someone had told me at the gallery that my piece was accidentally chipped, I would have said, "That's okay; things like this happen." It would have been forgotten. As it is, every time I look at this pot, I'm a little angry and sad.

I'm also glad I didn't join the coop. If they treated jury pieces this way, how responsible/honest would they be with my work?

Breakage is a subject that should be discussed before any show or arrangement with a gallery; just so the air is clear and everyone knows where they stand.

*Mizusashi: Large water container for use during Japanese tea ceremony.

More on Signing Pots

I sign my pots two ways: I write my name using a blown-out pen or a pencil--whatever is handy. My sig is pretty consistent, so it works well on a piece that will have a blazed bottom.

Other times I use the metal die for an old rubber stamp I had made years ago. The old stamp is long gone, but the die comes in handy because it's done in reverse and looks great on clay. It depends on the pot, mostly. The stamp is excellent on a flat surface such as a tile back or the bottom of a slab-built piece.

Care has to be taken when using a stamp to keep from creating stress in the clay on the reverse, but the stamp should be pressed against clay that has a good reverse support--either your hand or another flat surface.

I do also have a silicone stamp that comes in handy at times. You can go to your local rubber stamp store and order one. All you need is a well-drawn black and white image they can use to make the pattern.

You can make your own stamp out of fine-grained clay and a woodcut/linoleum tool called a veiner. The veiner can be found at an art or woodcraft supply store. The blade is shaped like a sharp V. Let the clay dry to bone hard, pencil on your design and carefully cut it into the surface. (Be sure to keep in mind the clay will shrink, so you need to make very strong lines.) Bisque the stamp and, if you want, fire it to vitrification. The incised design will be raised letters/symbols when you stamp your clay.

I did this to make a label for a company and it turned out well. (Don't have any samples, though.)

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.