Studio Visit: Joe Singewald, Cold Spring, Minnesota Joe Singewald

Appears in the May 2025 issue of Ceramics Monthly.

Just the Facts

Clay 
Basic stoneware 

Primary forming method 
Mostly wheel throwing, but at times handbuilding 

Primary firing temperature 
Cone-10 gas reduction, sometimes wood firing as well 

Favorite surface treatment 
I love ladle pouring glazes. 

Favorite tool 
Dolan loop tool 

Studio playlist 
I listen to or watch the Minnesota Twins or the Minnesota Wild. Listening to baseball or hockey distracts me from what I’m working on. Recently, I came across old CDs: 1990s, early 2000s. It’s fun hearing them again. 

Wishlist 
A window 

Studio 

Before going into detail about my current studio, I feel it is necessary to rewind and speak a little of the journey getting here. Beginning in the spring of 2003, I was a new University of Wisconsin-River Falls graduate. I remember being inspired and fully addicted to pots and committed to making them. The making was easy, all the other aspects of firing, glazing, and selling were not. 

As a student, I had access to a fully stocked studio and well-maintained equipment. All this evaporated at graduation, and suddenly, continuing to pursue clay became challenging. I was lucky my buddy Bayard Morgan had a studio and electric kiln, which allowed me to keep making. Maintaining my studio life required flexibility while transitioning from one studio to another. Thinking back, it’s difficult to remember every space, every flight of stairs my treadle wheel was hauled up and down over the last 22 years. Since graduating from Utah State University in 2008, I have set up shop in six locations, which may not seem too crazy, until considering the last ten years have been at my current location. 

Today, I live in Cold Spring, Minnesota, with my wife and three daughters. My studio isn’t fancy or glamorous. It’s a windowless room in my basement, a space to work. The family that built our house used this room as a woodshop. I like knowing my studio was first used as a creative space 50 years ago. Seeing the concrete spattered with paint drips from past projects is a nice reminder of this. 

The studio is about 216 square feet (65 m³) with several plywood tables, shelving, a treadle wheel, and an extruder. Under each table is storage for molds, sheets of foam, and infrequently used tools. When designing a rack system for storing pots on wareboards, Warren MacKenzie’s studio came to mind—granted he needed about five times as much space, but the concepts are the same. Half of the rack is lined with clear plastic, including a sheet that can be pulled up and stored above the rack when unnecessary. This system works well for pots fresh off the wheel, allowing them to dry slowly and uniformly. 

Tucked away in a studio corner sits an old pugmill. The table it’s bolted to can be rolled throughout my studio when needed and easily tucked against a wall when not in use. This pugger comes with a story. My brother sold it to me for $50. It worked great reclaiming clay for four years, but I sold it back to him during a move. A few years later and sick of wedging, I wanted it back, but it had been sold. Fast forward a year or so, and he stumbled upon it for sale on Facebook Marketplace. Another $50 dollars later and the old Bluebird was back. I punched out the dried clay in the tabletop holes and bolted her down in the exact spot she once lived. 

My favorite aspect of my studio is the fact that it’s in my house, which allows me to monitor work in progress while I am spending time with my family. Pots can be uncovered as my time is occupied elsewhere, and when they dry to leather hard, I can easily cover them with plastic, keeping them at a perfect stage for finishing when time allows. 

Like many potters, I dream of a better system for storing shipping materials. These boxes, tubs, and bubble wrap take up shelving space. Someday, I will add plywood doors to this shelf so clay dust stays off them and they won’t be in my line of sight from my wheel. Outside my studio and near the breaker box is an electric kiln, which provides nice in-floor heat to my daughter’s room from time to time. 

In a typical week, I’ll spend 20–25 hours in the studio. I try to do something in the studio every day, even if it’s just condensing pots on ware boards. I like to work from a pencil-scribbled making list, which includes forms and how many of each I would like for the next firing. A studio rhythm that was never intentional but kind of evolved over multiple years has been throwing pots on weekends with the goal to finish them the following week.

Paying Dues (and Bills) 

For the past ten years, I have worked full time for the College of Saint Benedict and Saint John’s University as the art department technical manager. In addition to maintaining the art studios, I have taught ceramic classes as an adjunct professor for the college. Working for the school almost covers my bills, so the sale of pots really helps make ends meet. 

Most of my work is sold in my buddy Peter Jadoonath’s backyard. Peter and I began a friendship almost twenty years ago. In the beginning, we seemed to bump into each other throughout the Twin Cities usually around clay events. One random Saturday morning, I was in Lowertown, St. Paul, Minnesota, as I stepped out of my car, there on the sidewalk was Peter headed to his studio. This chance meeting was a sign we needed to officially be friends, so we exchanged phone numbers. Every fall since, Peter has invited me and several other potters to his home for the greatest sale ever: The Backyard Pottery Sale. The best part of the sale is being outside for three days spending time with great people. It’s rare to have a chunk of time with such solid friends. More recently, Peter invited me as a guest on Mother’s Day weekend for the St. Croix Valley Pottery Tour (SCVPT). The SCVPT has had a big impact since first touring the sale in 2000. As a young pottery student, being able to visit/shop the tour, meet favorite potters, see the homes, and studios of these heroes, and witness thousands of people excited about handmade pots was without a doubt inspirational. I’m honored to be a part of all this greatness now. 

Marketing 

Beyond Peter’s backyard sales, my work can be found at several galleries: Northern Clay Center (northernclaycenter.org), Schaller Gallery (www.schallergallery.com), and Seasons Gallery (www.seasons-gallery.com) to name a few. Pots are also available on my webpage. I maintain an email list and try to send two updates each year. I also have an old-school snail mailing list. Outside of this, the best way to keep in touch is via Facebook or Instagram. 

Mind 

Simply put, pots inspire me. The real reason I make pots is because someone did so before me, generation after generation for thousands of years. There is a long chain of inspiration that goes way back. No one looks at a flowing stream and says, “I want to be a potter.” What happens is they see glazed pots, they see someone craft a piece on the wheel and think, “I want to do that.” For me, ceramics was completely foreign until my older brother brought home pots he made in high school. I’ll never forget the day I walked into the house and on the kitchen counter were four or five of his first glazed pieces. I remember wanting to know how they were made. Each question answered sparked a new one: “Wait, how did you glaze them?” “What makes them different colors?” I was intrigued; Pat was likely annoyed, but my interest was persistent, and a few weeks later, he demonstrated throwing a pot on a Lockerbie kick wheel. After that, it was just a waiting game before I could enroll in a class. 

Pots influence me all the time. I recently visited a friend from college and handled roughly 100 museum-quality pieces from Shoji Hamada, Tatsuzo Shimaoka, Warren and Alex MacKenzie, and Jeff Oestreich, to name a select few. Handling these pots, feeling their weight and balance, and touching the clay and glaze from potters I idolize was insanely inspirational. There’s so much to learn by holding and using pots. Sure, it’s possible looking at images on a screen can be exciting, but it doesn’t compare to touching a physical object. 

I am inspired by creators in general, too. I love seeing live music. There’s something about watching a favorite band play that is uplifting and inspiring. Good books can have the same impact. At the moment, I’m reading American Buffalo by Steven Rinella (probably for the third time). I enjoy how Rinella incorporates his experiences with historic events as they relate to the natural world, specifically hunting and fishing. When I am not outdoors, it’s nice reading stories about people who are. 

Most Important Lesson 

While speaking with Steve Rolf twenty years ago, he emphasized the importance of making objects that excited me as opposed to focusing on pots that may be easy to sell. This has always stuck with me. Bernard Leach believed the same and said, “If your heart doesn’t get joy in making, how do you expect the people who use the things you make to have their hearts touched?” 

joesingewaldpottery.com 
Facebook: @joe.singewaldpottery 
Instagram: @joesingewaldpottery