While their work may bring to mind the short-lived but iconic Memphis Group, founded by Italian designer Ettore Sottsass in the early 80s, Andersonâs influences spring from more contemporary furniture design and architecture. Itâs all about
shape and color, Anderson explains. âI work in a very tight, precise way. And while I may want to make things that look messier, my sense of aesthetic is so strong that I struggle to break away from it.â
3 Pendant lamps, bowls, goblets, and compotiĂšre in stained porcelain sit on Andersonâs shelves. Photo: Lysanne Larose.
Anderson explains that they meditate on how the wealthy would historically display expensive furnishing in their homes without knowing anything about the craftspersons whoâd made them, yet would know the artists included in their fine-art collection.
âArt always has its class aspects,â says Anderson. âIâve thought a lot about class and accessibility; about making things I canât afford and that none of my friends can either.â
Andersonâs practice thus questions why art will be valued for the artist who made it, while crafts can be valued without acknowledging the craftsperson. This narrative of erasure extends to the wider sphere of queer people. Just as the contributions
of craftspersons have often gone unrecognized, the lives and influences of queer individuals have often been obscured. Anderson draws a parallel between these two phenomena, weaving questions of craft, queerness, and class into a fragile, porcelain
tapestry.
6 Etty Andersonâs newest collection of flagons and cups. Photo: N. Lang.
âI feel like my Paris pieces were maquettes to start my exploration,â says Anderson. âFor that ottoman, I asked myself, âWhatâs the most ridiculous piece of furniture I can make?â I like how much skill goes into an
ottoman and then someone will just casually rest their feet on it.â
Anderson focused on mimicking textiles for their installation: âThereâs that notion of the permanence of ceramic and the impermanence of fabric. I like how this hard material can mimic something soft, something that youâd like to relax
onâand itâs just not comfy.â
For their future projects, Anderson explains that theyâve been imagining spaces filled with objects that toy with dimensions and materials, along with the viewerâs experience. How comfortable or uncomfortable would the space feel? What would
its queer aspects be? How comfortable would a person who is queer feel when entering that space, versus a person who isnât?
âHere is a space where you canât relax: you canât sit on the chair, you canât recline on the rug, you canât eat the food. A room where everything is beautiful but wrong. In this experience, the rug is oppressive. But is it
comforting to a queer person?â muses Anderson.
âIâm a deep crafts person; I like the idea of pushing into the art world and creating this discomfort within the viewer,â they conclude.
Queering Mud: A Watershed Moment
Anderson is a natural community organizer. In the past, they ran a community space/gallery, organized art collectives, and made pottery in an 18-person studio that included folks who did everything from metalsmithing to leatherwork.
Anderson enjoys gathering people in an inclusive way for communal events, whether itâs for their Vegan Secret Supper Club or the Queering Mud thematic residency they hosted at Maineâs Watershed Center for the Ceramic Arts this past summer.
The residency was aimed at queer, trans, and femme people interested in working with color and pattern in clay. âI was excited to gather artists that Iâve talked with on Instagram for years, but never met,â says Anderson. âWe
finally got to work together, collaborate, and exchange ideas.â And with Anderson being who they are, the residency naturally ended with a celebratory meal served on the ceramics created by the participants.
And it wonât end there: Anderson is returning to Medalta for a longer stay in 2025, where they plan to continue their explorations, though they explain their focus is turning toward queer roots and relics. âItâll be more of a conversation
with nostalgia and queerness. Iâll also be researching atmospheric firings, trying to create a colored porcelain clay body that reacts in the atmospheric kilns like a glaze. A way of queering clay, if you will,â concludes Anderson.
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For Etty Anderson, the past eighteen months have been transformative: they were among the QuĂ©bec artists showing at the Salon RĂ©vĂ©lations during the RĂ©vĂ©lations International Biennial of Crafts and Creation in Paris in 2023; completed a two-month residency at Medalta in Medicine Hat, Alberta; won the Juryâs Selection (Prototypes) of the 2024 Toronto Interior Design Show for their conceptual furniture and vessels; and received the award for best storage vessel in Companion Galleryâs âLast Call IXâ show.
A former fashion designer, Etty Anderson (they/them) is the powerhouse behind the YYY collection of ceramics, as well as a published cookbook author and the Vegan Secret Supper Clubâs chef. Anderson is a self-taught, multidisciplinary artist who has opened, curated, and directed an artist-run space, as well as being active as a jewelry maker, illustrator, photographer, and musician. Their nomadic Supper Club has popped up in Vancouver, Brooklyn, and MontrĂ©al. Their tightly designed porcelain piecesâlidded jars, footed goblets, pendant lamps, and stoolsâblend colorful nerikomi and neriage inlay with angular lines and rounded profiles.
While their work may bring to mind the short-lived but iconic Memphis Group, founded by Italian designer Ettore Sottsass in the early 80s, Andersonâs influences spring from more contemporary furniture design and architecture. Itâs all about shape and color, Anderson explains. âI work in a very tight, precise way. And while I may want to make things that look messier, my sense of aesthetic is so strong that I struggle to break away from it.â
A Biennale in Paris
For their Paris show, Anderson deliberately pushed that sharp, bright aesthetic into an uneasy experience. They threw and hand-built a banquet of domestic objects, some of which masqueraded as carpets and an ottoman. Adorned with nerikomi inlays of queer pop imagery and occult symbols, the sculpture installation was a way to ask the audience why some signifiers of class and wealth are used frequently (a plush footrest, soiled from use) while others arenât used at all (a precious rug, never trod upon)? The unusable carpets of ombrĂ© porcelain chain mail and the unyielding ottoman aimed to create a sense of disquiet in the viewer.
Anderson explains that they meditate on how the wealthy would historically display expensive furnishing in their homes without knowing anything about the craftspersons whoâd made them, yet would know the artists included in their fine-art collection.
âArt always has its class aspects,â says Anderson. âIâve thought a lot about class and accessibility; about making things I canât afford and that none of my friends can either.â
Andersonâs practice thus questions why art will be valued for the artist who made it, while crafts can be valued without acknowledging the craftsperson. This narrative of erasure extends to the wider sphere of queer people. Just as the contributions of craftspersons have often gone unrecognized, the lives and influences of queer individuals have often been obscured. Anderson draws a parallel between these two phenomena, weaving questions of craft, queerness, and class into a fragile, porcelain tapestry.
Queering the Space
The Révélations installation has launched Anderson into a more sculptural practice. While the Medalta residency has allowed them to try atmospheric firings, thus imposing a measure of uncertainty on their careful designs, more importantly, it has given them the space to wrestle further with these questions.
âI feel like my Paris pieces were maquettes to start my exploration,â says Anderson. âFor that ottoman, I asked myself, âWhatâs the most ridiculous piece of furniture I can make?â I like how much skill goes into an ottoman and then someone will just casually rest their feet on it.â
Anderson focused on mimicking textiles for their installation: âThereâs that notion of the permanence of ceramic and the impermanence of fabric. I like how this hard material can mimic something soft, something that youâd like to relax onâand itâs just not comfy.â
For their future projects, Anderson explains that theyâve been imagining spaces filled with objects that toy with dimensions and materials, along with the viewerâs experience. How comfortable or uncomfortable would the space feel? What would its queer aspects be? How comfortable would a person who is queer feel when entering that space, versus a person who isnât?
âHere is a space where you canât relax: you canât sit on the chair, you canât recline on the rug, you canât eat the food. A room where everything is beautiful but wrong. In this experience, the rug is oppressive. But is it comforting to a queer person?â muses Anderson.
âIâm a deep crafts person; I like the idea of pushing into the art world and creating this discomfort within the viewer,â they conclude.
Queering Mud: A Watershed Moment
Anderson is a natural community organizer. In the past, they ran a community space/gallery, organized art collectives, and made pottery in an 18-person studio that included folks who did everything from metalsmithing to leatherwork.
Anderson enjoys gathering people in an inclusive way for communal events, whether itâs for their Vegan Secret Supper Club or the Queering Mud thematic residency they hosted at Maineâs Watershed Center for the Ceramic Arts this past summer. The residency was aimed at queer, trans, and femme people interested in working with color and pattern in clay. âI was excited to gather artists that Iâve talked with on Instagram for years, but never met,â says Anderson. âWe finally got to work together, collaborate, and exchange ideas.â And with Anderson being who they are, the residency naturally ended with a celebratory meal served on the ceramics created by the participants.
And it wonât end there: Anderson is returning to Medalta for a longer stay in 2025, where they plan to continue their explorations, though they explain their focus is turning toward queer roots and relics. âItâll be more of a conversation with nostalgia and queerness. Iâll also be researching atmospheric firings, trying to create a colored porcelain clay body that reacts in the atmospheric kilns like a glaze. A way of queering clay, if you will,â concludes Anderson.
Discover Andersonâs work at www.yyycollection.com, or on Instagram: @e_tt_yyy and @vegansecretsupper.
the author Lysanne Larose, based in Montréal/Tiohtià :ka, Québec, Canada, makes large, semi-abstract ceramic sculptures and occasionally writes about fellow ceramic artists. Instagram: @LatelierLarose.
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