It’s safe to assume that anyone who works with clay has a penchant for process. Not unlike a myriad of other creative practices, i.e., baking, glass blowing, goldsmithing, we begin with disparate raw materials and through our interjections finish with a new creation transformed and forged through heat or fire. Kurt Vonnegut once wrote, “What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time.” When applied to a handmade object, the same is true. The evidence of countless decisions is shown in the form and on the skin of our work, with no two makers’ materials or processes combined identically.
Paired with elements more challenging to control—moisture, time, and heat—the choices we make in the liminal space between first and finished are informed by our muscle memory and individual experience. If the outcome was paramount, many of us might mechanize or industrialize parts of our process for accuracy and efficiency. However, within those important middle moments between raw and refined, lies the potential for curiosity, observation, improvisation, adaptation, and progress that only human minds can spark as we try to push beyond our previous best to create something new.
Processing is a way of working through, of understanding, and in a lifelong relationship with a practice and its material, we are each aiming to understand the nuances and interactions that will move us toward our desired destination. Unfortunately, and fortunately, there’s no Konami Code to ceramics. We’re all learning and adapting our practices alongside one another in search of different magical combinations, and are fortunate to keep trying within such a generous community of curious troubleshooters.
Pulling back the curtain on his approach to kettle building, Josh Scott demonstrates how he throws, alters, and finishes his version of the classic form, creating an object with mass and lift, appearing both ferrous and soft.
Understanding how to support artisans within her community was the goal of Disharee Mathur, whose project new•blue introduced industrial ceramic waste as a material into the centuries-old processes of Jaipur Blue Pottery.
“The original potter may have formed the clay when it was soft and malleable and the pieces Fukumaru takes hold of are hard and sharp, but her hands still contact the hands that went before her and learn from their journey with the clay.” Stephanie Arnold profiles Naoko Fukumaru’s kintsugi practice, which is both creative and conservational, and how it connects her, through process, to her family’s antique business and a lineage of Japanese potters.
Chris Locke’s experimental approach to glaze mixing and testing opened the door for saturated color to hold its own in his foaming glaze recipe. Often lost to the grayness caused by the inclusion of silicon carbide, bright yellows became attainable at mid-range temperatures through the addition of a common household and studio material.
The archival value of an exhibition catalog is as high as the tower of work required to bring it to fruition. Farraday Newsome and Tiffany A. Fairall break down the steps required to document, design, and deliver a finished book to museums and potential collectors to expand your reach and preserve your milestones.
Handle dynamics can make or break a mug’s functionality and influence how often someone selects it among a sea of alternatives in their kitchen cabinet. Joe Thompson explains how shape, fit, and placement can transform a handle’s function and how you can design one that’s comfortable and easy to use for a wide range of folks.
The voices in this issue speak to the importance of experimentation, patience, and progress through practice, because those moments in between, in the making, are where growth, understanding, and discovery happen. When we’re bold and brave, those moments hold marvelous potential. I hope you find inspiration in the pages that follow to forge a new path, rework a tried-and-true method, and push your practice into unfamiliar territory to layer some of that invisible magic within the walls of your final fired forms.
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It’s safe to assume that anyone who works with clay has a penchant for process. Not unlike a myriad of other creative practices, i.e., baking, glass blowing, goldsmithing, we begin with disparate raw materials and through our interjections finish with a new creation transformed and forged through heat or fire. Kurt Vonnegut once wrote, “What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time.” When applied to a handmade object, the same is true. The evidence of countless decisions is shown in the form and on the skin of our work, with no two makers’ materials or processes combined identically.
Paired with elements more challenging to control—moisture, time, and heat—the choices we make in the liminal space between first and finished are informed by our muscle memory and individual experience. If the outcome was paramount, many of us might mechanize or industrialize parts of our process for accuracy and efficiency. However, within those important middle moments between raw and refined, lies the potential for curiosity, observation, improvisation, adaptation, and progress that only human minds can spark as we try to push beyond our previous best to create something new.
Processing is a way of working through, of understanding, and in a lifelong relationship with a practice and its material, we are each aiming to understand the nuances and interactions that will move us toward our desired destination. Unfortunately, and fortunately, there’s no Konami Code to ceramics. We’re all learning and adapting our practices alongside one another in search of different magical combinations, and are fortunate to keep trying within such a generous community of curious troubleshooters.
Pulling back the curtain on his approach to kettle building, Josh Scott demonstrates how he throws, alters, and finishes his version of the classic form, creating an object with mass and lift, appearing both ferrous and soft.
Understanding how to support artisans within her community was the goal of Disharee Mathur, whose project new•blue introduced industrial ceramic waste as a material into the centuries-old processes of Jaipur Blue Pottery.
“The original potter may have formed the clay when it was soft and malleable and the pieces Fukumaru takes hold of are hard and sharp, but her hands still contact the hands that went before her and learn from their journey with the clay.” Stephanie Arnold profiles Naoko Fukumaru’s kintsugi practice, which is both creative and conservational, and how it connects her, through process, to her family’s antique business and a lineage of Japanese potters.
Chris Locke’s experimental approach to glaze mixing and testing opened the door for saturated color to hold its own in his foaming glaze recipe. Often lost to the grayness caused by the inclusion of silicon carbide, bright yellows became attainable at mid-range temperatures through the addition of a common household and studio material.
The archival value of an exhibition catalog is as high as the tower of work required to bring it to fruition. Farraday Newsome and Tiffany A. Fairall break down the steps required to document, design, and deliver a finished book to museums and potential collectors to expand your reach and preserve your milestones.
Handle dynamics can make or break a mug’s functionality and influence how often someone selects it among a sea of alternatives in their kitchen cabinet. Joe Thompson explains how shape, fit, and placement can transform a handle’s function and how you can design one that’s comfortable and easy to use for a wide range of folks.
The voices in this issue speak to the importance of experimentation, patience, and progress through practice, because those moments in between, in the making, are where growth, understanding, and discovery happen. When we’re bold and brave, those moments hold marvelous potential. I hope you find inspiration in the pages that follow to forge a new path, rework a tried-and-true method, and push your practice into unfamiliar territory to layer some of that invisible magic within the walls of your final fired forms.
Must-Reads from Ceramics Monthly
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