The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
Play is such an important factor in my studio practice. I enjoy working through iterations to find a multitude of resolutions to a particular form. This serves as an avenue for taking risks and experimentation. Iterations serve as a vehicle to work through a series of ideas, while sticking to one generalized form. By creating multiples, there are more opportunities for exciting new potentials. Each one does not need to be drastically different, but by changing the handle, the amount of clay, the tools used, the way it’s altered, or any one variable, I can change the entire language of a vessel. By having a handful of pieces to work with, it lessens the fear and reservations in the studio. However, the first lesson I want to encourage is to make more and take chances.
The Pitcher and the Possibilities
The pitcher is such a precious form throughout history, deeply tied to both ceremonial and daily rituals across cultures and time. Pouring vessels symbolize generosity, with their primary role being to deliver and nourish. This act fosters an intimate connection between the pot and the user. Pitchers are often seen as intimidating forms due to their multiple components. Each part offers exponential creative possibilities and plays a vital role in the vessel’s overall function. The handle enables lifting and tilting, engaging the hand; the spout facilitates the offering, connecting the server, receiver, and vessel; and the body contains and nurtures through its volume. These elements must work in harmony to achieve both functional utility and visual expression. Yet, beyond its mere functionality, the pitcher must also create a meaningful experience for the user.
For most of my pitchers, I start with wheel-thrown bottomless cylinders (1). I use two cylinders to construct each pitcher, a taller one and a shorter one (2). I tend to throw more than I anticipate needing, to allow for more potential combinations. The smaller cylinders begin with 1½ pounds (0.7 kg) of clay, while the taller ones range from 2½ pounds (1.1 kg) to 3½ pounds (1.6 kg). The shape I aim for is a tapered cylinder with a wide base and narrow top. Since these forms will be stacked, it’s best to keep the walls a bit thicker, around ⅜ inch (9.5 mm), and leave a good ½ inch (12.7 mm) of clay on the rim. Each time I throw, I allow for subtle nuances between the cylinders, thus generating unique opportunities within each composition. These forms act as blanks for the more complex altering and darting that will take place. Once the clay is soft leather hard, I gently coax the cylinder into an oval shape (3), which helps visually remove the form from the wheel.
Dynamic Darts
During an intermediate ceramic course taught by my undergraduate professor, Jen Allen, I was introduced to the potential of the dart. After many, many, many darts, I found my own mode of alteration. Within my studio practice, I avoid using templates when darting. This lends to the notion that each one will be distinct and have its own inherent qualities. Instead, I mark a dividing line on the spine of the pot; this will serve as a guide to maintain an even dart. I then sketch the dart out (4). Sketching helps me to visualize the form before the cut. Frequently, I will re-sketch the cut until the shape feels lively enough. Sometimes the form calls for a dart on the opposite side. It is always worth sketching to see if another dart could enhance the form. Being adventurous and fearless can lead to dynamic darts.
I use a variety of darts, but the one I’m most drawn to resembles an hourglass shape. The dart can be wide or narrow, elongated or stout, each method rendering a drastically different form. I say, “Try them all.” It is worth mentioning that the two flaps created by the dart will not move freely unless the cut to the bottom extends approximately halfway around the pot. Once I am satisfied with the sketch, I cut the dart out with a sharp tool for clean seams (5). Once the dart is removed, I slip and score the seams. Joining the dart, I begin compressing the two parts together, starting at the top and working my way down (6). To prevent cracking, I reinforce the seam line by blending a pencil-thin coil along the interior.
This type of dart creates a crescent-shaped gap that needs to be filled and patched (7). Roll a thick coil with tapered ends to backfill the hole (8). The coil must match the length of the hole. To guarantee the coil can also span the width of the opening, it must be flattened. The flattened coil is then filled from the inside and pressed outward. It’s important to take the time to smooth out the added clay. (9) Once the interior is uniform, I use my serrated rib to start blending the freshly added clay to the exterior seams (10).
Constructing Compositions
With the shorter cylinders altered and at my disposal (11), I begin to conceptualize these components as building blocks or puzzle pieces. Personally, this is my favorite part. My modular mode of constructing enables me to react and let intuition take way. There is no such thing as right or wrong in this game, just moments for play and experimentation. When I have found a composition that speaks to me, I slip and score the entire rim of both cylinders and carefully stack them. Filling in the negative spaces, I use the same patching process. Rolling, flattening, and blending a coil into the voids, ensuring the interior is completely smoothed and the exterior has been blended (12). Before adding any attachments, I let the form set up; it has been manipulated enough at this point.
Covering All Our Bases and Establishing Delivery
Since the cylinders are bottomless, we must add a slab for the base. The slab should be about ¼ inch (6.4 mm) thick and soft leather hard when attaching. I trace the exterior of the foot and cut the outline. Once the foot of the pot is slipped and scored, as well as the slab itself, it is time to attach. I will rock the form back and forth on the slab to completely seal the attachment. I then flip the piece upside down and finish by compressing the base with a few passes from my trusty red rubber rib (13). Once the slab is attached, I decide to either emphasize the seam of the foot or blend it into the body. Either is a fine resolution, as long as the pitcher has a bottom.
To Have and to Hold
I use a plethora of methods to create spouts. In this series, I use a coil method. This addition of coils to the rim allows me to exaggerate and accentuate different areas. Coil thickness will depend on the visual weight I want the spout to hold. The tapered coil I used for this particular spout is approximately 5 inches (12.7 cm) long and 1½ inches (3.8 cm) thick at the center. The back rim coil is about 2 inches (5.1 cm) long and ¾ inch (1.9 cm) thick (14). After attaching the coils to the rim, I will start on the spout. Using my index finger and thumb to frame the exterior, I will brush a sponge back and forth to work the spout outward (15). This is a gradual process and takes some time to get the desired shape. The wings on the side of the spout are done the same way, just on a smaller scale. The back framing coil and the cuts to the rim are not necessary, it is simply another way to make the form more dynamic.
The handle is another way that I can activate the illusion of line that completes the form and creates a sense of gesture. Start rendering the handles by rolling out 14-inch (35.6-cm) coils of varying widths. Then, pull the coils using the traditional method. When pulling, I aim for a thinner diameter where the handle will arch. Generally, I keep the handle a bit on the thicker side for a more comfortable hold. Once it has the desired thickness, smooth the handle with a red rubber rib on a foam surface (16). Dually, the rubber rib compresses the handle, aiding its plasticity and accommodating the dramatic arcs. Occasionally, I will run a serrated rib along one side of the handle, creating a moment of surprise for the user. Once the handles are pulled, compressed, and textured, I immediately bend the handles and rest them on foam (17). The handle is the last component I add to the pot, as I do not want to compromise the attachment points with further manipulation. Until they reach a soft-leather-hard stage, use this time to resolve the vessel. Attach once the arch of the handle has set (18).
Now that the body has had a moment to set up to a leather-hard state, it is time to start defining and refining. I aim to establish direction through apparent and inferred lines. Within each form, I create soft curves, dramatic angles, and quiet undulations (19). I will mark a line that I want to enhance across the vessel, and using either a serrated rib or my saw blade, I refine those curves and angles. These moments of subtlety go a long way toward the overall composition of the pot. Sometimes I must remind myself of the importance of standing back and contemplating the form as a whole. I tend to dial into the small details. This is the stage that begins to delineate a sense of direction, expression, and rhythm.
Technical, Texture, and Tactility
Time for some technical talk. As a maker who is constantly working through several ideas, I am not tied to a singular way of making, clay body, firing method, temperature, glaze, or finish. I am committed to the idea and not necessarily to the materials I use. In this instance, I am using a mid-range orange stoneware clay body. However, I have created works in high-fire stoneware, earthenware, and some porcelain. All have their own inherent qualities, although I tend to gravitate toward clay bodies with some amount of iron content. The iron subdues even the brightest of pigments, grounding the finished piece to an earthier likeness. Utilizing this quality, I create a sense of aging in my work, alluding to a history and utility.
By adding different textures, I create objects that engage an active, tactile experience. I’ve used a multitude of tools to create an index of textures, but I often gravitate to the serrated rib, rasp, and saw blade. My forms tend to amalgamate contrasting surface textures, which are then tied together by a uniform finish, thus achieving ambiguity of time and place. When finishing, I experiment with terra sigillatas, underglazes, slips, and satin matte and matte glazes. All of these surface treatments imbue a sense of softness. This tactile experience evokes a dissonance between comfort and the precarity of the vessel.
This mode of production allows me to work in the air of similitude, but not duplicity. Iterating facilitates a freedom in my studio practice that generates fresh and exciting forms. Each retains an analogous quality that echoes throughout the series, yet individually, they have their own distinct personalities. My favorite moment is seeing them seated next to each other, conversing in a dialog of their own. This moment of reflection fuels subsequent reiterations of relative and new forms.
the author Amy Sanders was born in Yueyang, Hunan, China, and raised in Allentown, Pennsylvania. She holds a BFA with a concentration in ceramics from West Virginia University in Morgantown, West Virginia. In 2022, she completed a year as a post-baccalaureate student at Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana. Sanders has served as a long-term artist in residence at the Morean Center for Clay in St. Petersburg, Florida. Currently, she is a master of fine arts candidate at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. To see more of her work, visit www.amysandersceramics.comor follow along on Instagram @amysandersceramics.
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
Play is such an important factor in my studio practice. I enjoy working through iterations to find a multitude of resolutions to a particular form. This serves as an avenue for taking risks and experimentation. Iterations serve as a vehicle to work through a series of ideas, while sticking to one generalized form. By creating multiples, there are more opportunities for exciting new potentials. Each one does not need to be drastically different, but by changing the handle, the amount of clay, the tools used, the way it’s altered, or any one variable, I can change the entire language of a vessel. By having a handful of pieces to work with, it lessens the fear and reservations in the studio. However, the first lesson I want to encourage is to make more and take chances.
The Pitcher and the Possibilities
For most of my pitchers, I start with wheel-thrown bottomless cylinders (1). I use two cylinders to construct each pitcher, a taller one and a shorter one (2). I tend to throw more than I anticipate needing, to allow for more potential combinations. The smaller cylinders begin with 1½ pounds (0.7 kg) of clay, while the taller ones range from 2½ pounds (1.1 kg) to 3½ pounds (1.6 kg). The shape I aim for is a tapered cylinder with a wide base and narrow top. Since these forms will be stacked, it’s best to keep the walls a bit thicker, around ⅜ inch (9.5 mm), and leave a good ½ inch (12.7 mm) of clay on the rim. Each time I throw, I allow for subtle nuances between the cylinders, thus generating unique opportunities within each composition. These forms act as blanks for the more complex altering and darting that will take place. Once the clay is soft leather hard, I gently coax the cylinder into an oval shape (3), which helps visually remove the form from the wheel.
Dynamic Darts
During an intermediate ceramic course taught by my undergraduate professor, Jen Allen, I was introduced to the potential of the dart. After many, many, many darts, I found my own mode of alteration. Within my studio practice, I avoid using templates when darting. This lends to the notion that each one will be distinct and have its own inherent qualities. Instead, I mark a dividing line on the spine of the pot; this will serve as a guide to maintain an even dart. I then sketch the dart out (4). Sketching helps me to visualize the form before the cut. Frequently, I will re-sketch the cut until the shape feels lively enough. Sometimes the form calls for a dart on the opposite side. It is always worth sketching to see if another dart could enhance the form. Being adventurous and fearless can lead to dynamic darts.
I use a variety of darts, but the one I’m most drawn to resembles an hourglass shape. The dart can be wide or narrow, elongated or stout, each method rendering a drastically different form. I say, “Try them all.” It is worth mentioning that the two flaps created by the dart will not move freely unless the cut to the bottom extends approximately halfway around the pot. Once I am satisfied with the sketch, I cut the dart out with a sharp tool for clean seams (5). Once the dart is removed, I slip and score the seams. Joining the dart, I begin compressing the two parts together, starting at the top and working my way down (6). To prevent cracking, I reinforce the seam line by blending a pencil-thin coil along the interior.
This type of dart creates a crescent-shaped gap that needs to be filled and patched (7). Roll a thick coil with tapered ends to backfill the hole (8). The coil must match the length of the hole. To guarantee the coil can also span the width of the opening, it must be flattened. The flattened coil is then filled from the inside and pressed outward. It’s important to take the time to smooth out the added clay. (9) Once the interior is uniform, I use my serrated rib to start blending the freshly added clay to the exterior seams (10).
Constructing Compositions
With the shorter cylinders altered and at my disposal (11), I begin to conceptualize these components as building blocks or puzzle pieces. Personally, this is my favorite part. My modular mode of constructing enables me to react and let intuition take way. There is no such thing as right or wrong in this game, just moments for play and experimentation. When I have found a composition that speaks to me, I slip and score the entire rim of both cylinders and carefully stack them. Filling in the negative spaces, I use the same patching process. Rolling, flattening, and blending a coil into the voids, ensuring the interior is completely smoothed and the exterior has been blended (12). Before adding any attachments, I let the form set up; it has been manipulated enough at this point.
Covering All Our Bases and Establishing Delivery
Since the cylinders are bottomless, we must add a slab for the base. The slab should be about ¼ inch (6.4 mm) thick and soft leather hard when attaching. I trace the exterior of the foot and cut the outline. Once the foot of the pot is slipped and scored, as well as the slab itself, it is time to attach. I will rock the form back and forth on the slab to completely seal the attachment. I then flip the piece upside down and finish by compressing the base with a few passes from my trusty red rubber rib (13). Once the slab is attached, I decide to either emphasize the seam of the foot or blend it into the body. Either is a fine resolution, as long as the pitcher has a bottom.
To Have and to Hold
I use a plethora of methods to create spouts. In this series, I use a coil method. This addition of coils to the rim allows me to exaggerate and accentuate different areas. Coil thickness will depend on the visual weight I want the spout to hold. The tapered coil I used for this particular spout is approximately 5 inches (12.7 cm) long and 1½ inches (3.8 cm) thick at the center. The back rim coil is about 2 inches (5.1 cm) long and ¾ inch (1.9 cm) thick (14). After attaching the coils to the rim, I will start on the spout. Using my index finger and thumb to frame the exterior, I will brush a sponge back and forth to work the spout outward (15). This is a gradual process and takes some time to get the desired shape. The wings on the side of the spout are done the same way, just on a smaller scale. The back framing coil and the cuts to the rim are not necessary, it is simply another way to make the form more dynamic.
The handle is another way that I can activate the illusion of line that completes the form and creates a sense of gesture. Start rendering the handles by rolling out 14-inch (35.6-cm) coils of varying widths. Then, pull the coils using the traditional method. When pulling, I aim for a thinner diameter where the handle will arch. Generally, I keep the handle a bit on the thicker side for a more comfortable hold. Once it has the desired thickness, smooth the handle with a red rubber rib on a foam surface (16). Dually, the rubber rib compresses the handle, aiding its plasticity and accommodating the dramatic arcs. Occasionally, I will run a serrated rib along one side of the handle, creating a moment of surprise for the user. Once the handles are pulled, compressed, and textured, I immediately bend the handles and rest them on foam (17). The handle is the last component I add to the pot, as I do not want to compromise the attachment points with further manipulation. Until they reach a soft-leather-hard stage, use this time to resolve the vessel. Attach once the arch of the handle has set (18).
Now that the body has had a moment to set up to a leather-hard state, it is time to start defining and refining. I aim to establish direction through apparent and inferred lines. Within each form, I create soft curves, dramatic angles, and quiet undulations (19). I will mark a line that I want to enhance across the vessel, and using either a serrated rib or my saw blade, I refine those curves and angles. These moments of subtlety go a long way toward the overall composition of the pot. Sometimes I must remind myself of the importance of standing back and contemplating the form as a whole. I tend to dial into the small details. This is the stage that begins to delineate a sense of direction, expression, and rhythm.
Technical, Texture, and Tactility
Time for some technical talk. As a maker who is constantly working through several ideas, I am not tied to a singular way of making, clay body, firing method, temperature, glaze, or finish. I am committed to the idea and not necessarily to the materials I use. In this instance, I am using a mid-range orange stoneware clay body. However, I have created works in high-fire stoneware, earthenware, and some porcelain. All have their own inherent qualities, although I tend to gravitate toward clay bodies with some amount of iron content. The iron subdues even the brightest of pigments, grounding the finished piece to an earthier likeness. Utilizing this quality, I create a sense of aging in my work, alluding to a history and utility.
By adding different textures, I create objects that engage an active, tactile experience. I’ve used a multitude of tools to create an index of textures, but I often gravitate to the serrated rib, rasp, and saw blade. My forms tend to amalgamate contrasting surface textures, which are then tied together by a uniform finish, thus achieving ambiguity of time and place. When finishing, I experiment with terra sigillatas, underglazes, slips, and satin matte and matte glazes. All of these surface treatments imbue a sense of softness. This tactile experience evokes a dissonance between comfort and the precarity of the vessel.
This mode of production allows me to work in the air of similitude, but not duplicity. Iterating facilitates a freedom in my studio practice that generates fresh and exciting forms. Each retains an analogous quality that echoes throughout the series, yet individually, they have their own distinct personalities. My favorite moment is seeing them seated next to each other, conversing in a dialog of their own. This moment of reflection fuels subsequent reiterations of relative and new forms.
the author Amy Sanders was born in Yueyang, Hunan, China, and raised in Allentown, Pennsylvania. She holds a BFA with a concentration in ceramics from West Virginia University in Morgantown, West Virginia. In 2022, she completed a year as a post-baccalaureate student at Montana State University in Bozeman, Montana. Sanders has served as a long-term artist in residence at the Morean Center for Clay in St. Petersburg, Florida. Currently, she is a master of fine arts candidate at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. To see more of her work, visit www.amysandersceramics.com or follow along on Instagram @amysandersceramics.
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