The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
I grew up in the 80s, shaping mud bowls with my sister in the garden and throwing them into a bonfire. They’d come out half cracked, half baked. I remember as a child when we drank tea in roadside shops during our travels across India, it came in
handmade clay cups called a kulhad, which had the taste of the earth. After use, we would throw them onto a pile of broken kulhads. I feel that this has largely been the perception of clay in Indian society; an easily breakable commodity of low value
and a shrinking livelihood for thousands of traditional potters across the nation.
I always wanted to be an artist. But, to fulfill family expectations, I went through a degree program in mass media. Luckily, through a self-guided art program, I found clay and assisted in teaching children at the pottery shed in The Art Village, Valley
School (J. Krishnamurti Foundation), Bangalore. We collected clay from the pond, mixed it with dung and sand, and built and fired a traditional brick kiln, by just sensing the warmth and color of the fire. I’d forget everything with clay in
my hands. There was a voice inside, saying. . . I can do this for the rest of my life!
In India, traditionally the profession of a potter is inherited in a Prajapati’s family, the potter’s caste. Since I was not born into a potter’s family, I would be asked: How are you going to survive? Are you going to sell pots on the
street? A justified question since Indian studio pottery at that time was still nascent.
Training further at The Golden Bridge Pottery, in Pondicherry, I imbibed the Japanese aesthetic in an active ceramics production studio and made clay and glazes under Deborah Smith and Ray Meeker. As students, we assisted in re-building a Bizen kiln into
an anagama, India’s first, with Ray, Antra Sinha, and the Australian potter Peter Thompson. I returned over the years as international ceramic artists visited to build and fire more anagama kilns. Ray guided me in scaling my figurative abstract
doodles into larger sculptures. Although I gradually broke out of the inherited style and developed a language of my own, I carry many valuable lessons in vessel and sculptural aesthetics. I trained in glaze formulation from Sandeep Manchekar in Mumbai.
Apprenticeships and collaborations with artists the world over continue to expand my skill set and perspective.
Finding
Ground and Building Community
In early 2000, India had few galleries showing contemporary ceramics. At the time, there wasn’t enough demand for studio pottery in the market. So, we made our own clay body, glazes, and kilns from scratch. To find my footing in Mumbai, I continued
teaching in educational institutions and expanding my studio at home. To buy the local terra cotta, I visited the traditional potter community, observed their processes, and found that the younger generation was moving to office jobs. It was getting
harder to survive from the low returns fetched by traditional pottery. Did this mean that the path I was trying to pursue, an age-old tradition, was dying? To answer these questions and create awareness for the craft, I traveled across the country
to document and observe traditional pottery communities. These journeys connected me to the land, evolving traditions, and a resolve: Survive no matter what. The words of my first teacher, a traditional potter, Hanumantappa, echoed, “Apna haath
mitti mein rakho, apne aap raasta dikh jayega. Keep your hands in clay and it will show you the way!” These words give me courage even now.
There was a need to build the community and a platform for studio pottery. In 2009, ceramic artist Anjani Khanna and I started India’s first formal studio pottery event, The Studio Potters’ Market at the annual Kala Ghoda Arts Festival in
Mumbai. It was held in a parking lot, we brought in hand carts, and, for a nominal price, invited local ceramic artists to showcase their creations while interacting with each other and the audience, creating awareness about the process and the medium.
And there we were, selling pots on the street!
What started as an experiment has turned into a sought-after event, with a nationwide waitlisted open call, showcasing 42 ceramic artists; curated and organized by myself, Khanna, and Sangeeta Kapila. This has become a nationwide artist-led movement,
growing across 13-plus cities. Gradually, we invited traditional master craftsmen to demonstrate their unique processes and exhibit. The craftsmen benefit from collaborations, exchanges with studio ceramic artists, and social-media documentation to
reach a global audience.
More than a decade after the initial success of these markets, potters have a busy year-round schedule and the motivation to showcase quality work. Ceramics has found a popular spot at festivals, cafes, and art galleries, and is finally beginning to be
a possible career option in urban India. Due to the spurt of online sales in India and the escalating costs of organizing a market, we have taken a year’s break from The Studio Potters’ Market to review our involvement, model, and viability.
Cultivating an Inner Voice
In the second decade of my practice, I was trying to find a balance between year-round commissions, curatorial projects, teaching, sculptural work, attending residencies, and artistic pursuits of film, theater, and alternative healing. To cater to economy
of scale, I needed more hands, but it was difficult from my home studio. I stopped participating in markets, continued exhibitions, produced selective collections, and sold directly from the studio.
Every burnout has helped rebuild physical and mental strength. In such times, clay has been a solace. I have been traveling through my work, inward, through a series of meditative figures. In deep silence, I absorb the symbols arising, as they merge
with impressions gathered from temple iconography. From vision to creation, there is a unification of the internal and external worlds.
During the pandemic, I was guided by my spiritual master, Kulavadhuta Satpurananda, in experiencing the energetic and artistic embodiment of the Goddess Manasa, a universal mother, adorned with snakes and widely worshiped across India. She is seen in
the form of a pot, wheel-thrown and paddled by traditional potters in West Bengal. Snakes, as a symbol, are the energy pathways in our body. Gods and goddesses, I believe, are the personification of the ideal human. The attributes they hold are the
diversity of the cosmos. As a creator, I see my body as a temple. A vessel of the elements; flowing with the expansive waves: of the black, the white, and the grays. . . all as sacred.
If there has been a sense of joy, it shows; if there has been pain, it shows; and if there has been a catharsis, it comes through. When the artwork comes together, there is a transfer of energies, making it alive. Through the storms of thoughts and emotions,
there emerges a clarity that doesn’t waver. This, when shared, touches the hearts of people. Art that emerges from this space can stir the soul.
The answers evolve over time, professionally and internally, from sharing the joy of creating in clay with many to re-imagining education through the arts, and art as an observation of the self.
Career Snapshot
Years as a Professional Potter 20
Number of Pots Made in a Year 400–600
Education Bachelor in Mass Media, Swami Vivekanand College, Mumbai (2003) Foundation in Fine Arts, The Art Village, The Valley School (KFI), Bangalore (2004) Glazing and Clay Body Composition with Sandeep Manchekar,
Mumbai (2006) Wheel Throwing and Sculptural Ceramics, The Golden Bridge Pottery, Pondicherry (2007) Anatomy Drawing Summer School, Ruskin School of Art, University of Oxford, UK (2011) Yoga & Tantra—Concepts
& Visual History, Jnanapravaha, Mumbai (2013)
The Time it Takes (Percentages) Making work (including firing): 60% Promotions/selling: 25% Office/bookkeeping: 15%
Favorite Tool A double-sided curved and ridged knife from my grandma’s kitchen.
Post-pandemic, after a long-awaited desire to expand, I found the will to shift studios to a commercial complex outside with the support of my family. Currently, I am riding yet another wave of re-calibrating my purpose and balance. Having tried most
combinations, I hopefully can build from my strengths by creating a model that serves my creativity and establishes the studio as a community space.
Studios in the city have multiplied, but due to high real estate prices in Mumbai, few ceramic studios with resources exist where budding potters can train or teach and amateurs can pursue their practice. While sharing my experience in clay, I urge self-reflection
and review of our connections to traditions, consumerism, and environmental waste. This aligns with how I create, an attempt to mirror beauty in balance, in functional and sculptural forms.
Despite the ups and downs, being in the moment and watching others experience this joy keeps me going. Being with clay is being with my natural instincts; alive and ever-changing, much like life. My advice for those interested in studio ceramics as a
profession is to work on your skill and try to keep a balance between the joy of creating while also researching what the market needs. Participate in in-person events once in a while as ideas and collaborations thrive with personal relationships.
Sometimes, allow yourself to be baked in isolation to arrive at self-critique and step away from instant social-media feedback. For those starting again in a completely new place, I’d say it’s never too late.
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The audio file for this article was produced by the Ceramic Arts Network staff and not read by the author.
I grew up in the 80s, shaping mud bowls with my sister in the garden and throwing them into a bonfire. They’d come out half cracked, half baked. I remember as a child when we drank tea in roadside shops during our travels across India, it came in handmade clay cups called a kulhad, which had the taste of the earth. After use, we would throw them onto a pile of broken kulhads. I feel that this has largely been the perception of clay in Indian society; an easily breakable commodity of low value and a shrinking livelihood for thousands of traditional potters across the nation.
I always wanted to be an artist. But, to fulfill family expectations, I went through a degree program in mass media. Luckily, through a self-guided art program, I found clay and assisted in teaching children at the pottery shed in The Art Village, Valley School (J. Krishnamurti Foundation), Bangalore. We collected clay from the pond, mixed it with dung and sand, and built and fired a traditional brick kiln, by just sensing the warmth and color of the fire. I’d forget everything with clay in my hands. There was a voice inside, saying. . . I can do this for the rest of my life!
In India, traditionally the profession of a potter is inherited in a Prajapati’s family, the potter’s caste. Since I was not born into a potter’s family, I would be asked: How are you going to survive? Are you going to sell pots on the street? A justified question since Indian studio pottery at that time was still nascent.
Training further at The Golden Bridge Pottery, in Pondicherry, I imbibed the Japanese aesthetic in an active ceramics production studio and made clay and glazes under Deborah Smith and Ray Meeker. As students, we assisted in re-building a Bizen kiln into an anagama, India’s first, with Ray, Antra Sinha, and the Australian potter Peter Thompson. I returned over the years as international ceramic artists visited to build and fire more anagama kilns. Ray guided me in scaling my figurative abstract doodles into larger sculptures. Although I gradually broke out of the inherited style and developed a language of my own, I carry many valuable lessons in vessel and sculptural aesthetics. I trained in glaze formulation from Sandeep Manchekar in Mumbai. Apprenticeships and collaborations with artists the world over continue to expand my skill set and perspective.
In early 2000, India had few galleries showing contemporary ceramics. At the time, there wasn’t enough demand for studio pottery in the market. So, we made our own clay body, glazes, and kilns from scratch. To find my footing in Mumbai, I continued teaching in educational institutions and expanding my studio at home. To buy the local terra cotta, I visited the traditional potter community, observed their processes, and found that the younger generation was moving to office jobs. It was getting harder to survive from the low returns fetched by traditional pottery. Did this mean that the path I was trying to pursue, an age-old tradition, was dying? To answer these questions and create awareness for the craft, I traveled across the country to document and observe traditional pottery communities. These journeys connected me to the land, evolving traditions, and a resolve: Survive no matter what. The words of my first teacher, a traditional potter, Hanumantappa, echoed, “Apna haath mitti mein rakho, apne aap raasta dikh jayega. Keep your hands in clay and it will show you the way!” These words give me courage even now.
There was a need to build the community and a platform for studio pottery. In 2009, ceramic artist Anjani Khanna and I started India’s first formal studio pottery event, The Studio Potters’ Market at the annual Kala Ghoda Arts Festival in Mumbai. It was held in a parking lot, we brought in hand carts, and, for a nominal price, invited local ceramic artists to showcase their creations while interacting with each other and the audience, creating awareness about the process and the medium. And there we were, selling pots on the street!
What started as an experiment has turned into a sought-after event, with a nationwide waitlisted open call, showcasing 42 ceramic artists; curated and organized by myself, Khanna, and Sangeeta Kapila. This has become a nationwide artist-led movement, growing across 13-plus cities. Gradually, we invited traditional master craftsmen to demonstrate their unique processes and exhibit. The craftsmen benefit from collaborations, exchanges with studio ceramic artists, and social-media documentation to reach a global audience.
More than a decade after the initial success of these markets, potters have a busy year-round schedule and the motivation to showcase quality work. Ceramics has found a popular spot at festivals, cafes, and art galleries, and is finally beginning to be a possible career option in urban India. Due to the spurt of online sales in India and the escalating costs of organizing a market, we have taken a year’s break from The Studio Potters’ Market to review our involvement, model, and viability.
Cultivating an Inner Voice
In the second decade of my practice, I was trying to find a balance between year-round commissions, curatorial projects, teaching, sculptural work, attending residencies, and artistic pursuits of film, theater, and alternative healing. To cater to economy of scale, I needed more hands, but it was difficult from my home studio. I stopped participating in markets, continued exhibitions, produced selective collections, and sold directly from the studio.
Every burnout has helped rebuild physical and mental strength. In such times, clay has been a solace. I have been traveling through my work, inward, through a series of meditative figures. In deep silence, I absorb the symbols arising, as they merge with impressions gathered from temple iconography. From vision to creation, there is a unification of the internal and external worlds.
During the pandemic, I was guided by my spiritual master, Kulavadhuta Satpurananda, in experiencing the energetic and artistic embodiment of the Goddess Manasa, a universal mother, adorned with snakes and widely worshiped across India. She is seen in the form of a pot, wheel-thrown and paddled by traditional potters in West Bengal. Snakes, as a symbol, are the energy pathways in our body. Gods and goddesses, I believe, are the personification of the ideal human. The attributes they hold are the diversity of the cosmos. As a creator, I see my body as a temple. A vessel of the elements; flowing with the expansive waves: of the black, the white, and the grays. . . all as sacred.
If there has been a sense of joy, it shows; if there has been pain, it shows; and if there has been a catharsis, it comes through. When the artwork comes together, there is a transfer of energies, making it alive. Through the storms of thoughts and emotions, there emerges a clarity that doesn’t waver. This, when shared, touches the hearts of people. Art that emerges from this space can stir the soul.
The answers evolve over time, professionally and internally, from sharing the joy of creating in clay with many to re-imagining education through the arts, and art as an observation of the self.
Career Snapshot
Years as a Professional Potter
20
Number of Pots Made in a Year
400–600
Education
Bachelor in Mass Media, Swami Vivekanand College, Mumbai (2003)
Foundation in Fine Arts, The Art Village, The Valley School (KFI), Bangalore (2004)
Glazing and Clay Body Composition with Sandeep Manchekar, Mumbai (2006)
Wheel Throwing and Sculptural Ceramics, The Golden Bridge Pottery, Pondicherry (2007)
Anatomy Drawing Summer School, Ruskin School of Art, University of Oxford, UK (2011)
Yoga & Tantra—Concepts & Visual History, Jnanapravaha, Mumbai (2013)
The Time it Takes (Percentages)
Making work (including firing): 60%
Promotions/selling: 25%
Office/bookkeeping: 15%
Favorite Tool
A double-sided curved and ridged knife from my grandma’s kitchen.
Process
Coiling and throwing
Where It Goes
Retail Stores: 0%
Galleries: 25%
Craft/Art Fairs: 5%
Studio/Home Sales: 15%
Online: 5%
Teaching: 50%
Learn More
www.rashijain.net
Instagram: @rashi.jjain (artwork) @studiokarva (teaching)
Facebook: @rashi.jain.94695
Studio Karva: @studiokarva
YouTube: www.youtube.com/@rashijain1191
Shifting Studio
Post-pandemic, after a long-awaited desire to expand, I found the will to shift studios to a commercial complex outside with the support of my family. Currently, I am riding yet another wave of re-calibrating my purpose and balance. Having tried most combinations, I hopefully can build from my strengths by creating a model that serves my creativity and establishes the studio as a community space.
Studios in the city have multiplied, but due to high real estate prices in Mumbai, few ceramic studios with resources exist where budding potters can train or teach and amateurs can pursue their practice. While sharing my experience in clay, I urge self-reflection and review of our connections to traditions, consumerism, and environmental waste. This aligns with how I create, an attempt to mirror beauty in balance, in functional and sculptural forms.
Despite the ups and downs, being in the moment and watching others experience this joy keeps me going. Being with clay is being with my natural instincts; alive and ever-changing, much like life. My advice for those interested in studio ceramics as a profession is to work on your skill and try to keep a balance between the joy of creating while also researching what the market needs. Participate in in-person events once in a while as ideas and collaborations thrive with personal relationships. Sometimes, allow yourself to be baked in isolation to arrive at self-critique and step away from instant social-media feedback. For those starting again in a completely new place, I’d say it’s never too late.
Unfamiliar with any terms in this article? Browse our glossary of pottery terms!
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