Out in the world, what usually catches my eye are not beautiful views or sunsets or gorgeous buildings but rather patterns, textures, and surfaces. When I happen upon an interesting one, I take a photograph and add it to my file of about 2000 shots collected from daily life, travels, internet searches, Instagram, and friends. They are mementos of things that inspire new pieces and new techniques.
Nelly Series
For instance, an Instagram posting by ceramic artist Nelly Bonnand of her studio in Provence drew my eye, but it was not the ceramics or the furniture or the beautiful space in the photo, but rather the rug that fascinated me (1). I’ve used that pattern over and over and will probably use it again in the future (2).
Tokyo Flowers
There are lots of beautiful manhole covers on the streets of Tokyo, but one with little flowers really spoke to me (3). Using this image as a starting point, I began working with small bits of underglaze-painted clay, which I pressed between my fingers or rolled with a pony roller, to form flower petals. These were pressed onto leather-hard surfaces slathered with super thick slip (4).
Collage with Clay
During Covid, when the studio was closed, a small paper ornament by collage artist Jennifer Penick inspired paper plates and paper bottles—mockups for what I hoped would be future ceramic pieces. I found an old trove of gouaches and cut them up for the at-home project. When I returned to the studio, I applied that same collage approach to my clay work. Instead of adhering paper scraps to cardboard with glue, I used liquid clay or underglazes to adhere the scraps of clay to a leather-hard base (5).
Impressing Stripes
A few years ago, I began combining stripes with the collage approach, rolling out thin slabs, painting them with underglazes, then slicing them into narrow strips and embedding them into large soft slabs. When the slabs stiffened, I cut them out to form vessels (6).
Kuba Series
I recently came across textiles and patterns of the old Kuba Kingdom of Central Africa, and one inspired a big plate (7) and a mirror, which in turn suggested chargers with centers removed and replaced by contrasting discs (8).
Cladding Forms
I’m a big fan of pieced quilts, and a few years ago, I came across a photo of a quilt by Rosie Lee Tompkins on Instagram, and it really blew me away (9). It suggested moving from solid-colored strips to incised and patterned strips, and moving from impressing strips into a soft slab base to completely cladding the exterior of a whole pre-fabricated, leather-hard form with soft strips (10).
Carnival Series
Not long ago, I was in a bit of a slump, and what I often do in those periods is scroll through my photo files for inspiration. I had photographed one of my painted earthenware plates drying on a striped comforter (11), and that image led to several bottles (12), and then some chargers and probably several more pieces in the future.
PART II: The Problem of Originality
Where did my love of stripes come from? Perhaps from a Gene Davis painting I grew up with. Many years later, I took a painting course with Gene at the Corcoran School of Art, where he suggested that we copy works of art! Despite the trend at the time of appropriation, this suggestion was shocking to most of us in the class who were bred on the concepts of originality and spontaneity. This was 20th-century Washington, DC, not Beaux Arts Paris! Although some say there’s no such thing as originality, I do worry about it. Oftentimes, as I’m working on a piece, I think to myself, “Haven’t I seen this before?”
Inspiration or Theft?
When I worked at the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, DC, Gerhard Richter’s Window (13) was on view for quite a while, and I loved it. So, I made Richter Bottle (14). Is this a tribute or a theft? How about the vase after Rosie Lee Tompkins’ quilt or the pattern from Nelly Bonnand’s rug?
An example of a work I’ve made that is so close to the source that it’s stealing is Joel’s Plate (15), based on A. Joel Robinson’s textile sample (16) I saw at the Cooper Hewitt Museum.
A few years ago I was called out by another artist, a jeweler in New York. In a show of her work, she had a silver necklace of large, flat loops that I loved. I made several vases and plates inspired by it and posted photos of them on Facebook. She responded by saying how flattered she was that I had been inspired by her work. Then, I made ceramic necklaces based on her design, posted those on Facebook, and she was furious! My necklaces were so fragile, I never could have sold them, but they made fine gifts for friends who knew they wouldn’t last long.
There are some pieces I can confirm that are absolutely not stolen! For a plate, I pressed a piece of metal wire—found lying in the street, most likely run over by a truck—on to the damp clay slab. Three tall vases were pressed with a strip of corrugated cardboard I found in the recycling bin in my apartment building. Daisy Plate (see 5) came from leftover scraps of clay I couldn’t bear to throw away.
Allan McCollum and Mark Twain
I’ll end with a positive interaction I had with an artist. I got to know and love Allan McCollum’s Plaster Surrogates (17) while working at the Hirshhorn Museum. A few years later when I began working with clay, his work came to mind, and I made several grid pieces and posted a few of them on Etsy (18). When I sold one of the plates, there was a note in the customer comments section that said “I just had to buy this,” signed Allan McCollum. I assumed it was a joke, but I responded by telling the writer how much I loved Plaster Surrogates and that I had hung them in the Hirshhorn gallery. When he responded by expressing his sympathy that the installation must have been difficult due to the museum’s curved walls, I knew it really had to be the artist!
Here’s what Mark Twain had to say about originality, “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”
After working as a graphic designer, a painter, an exhibits specialist at the Hirshhorn Museum, and the exhibitions coordinator at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Arlington, Catherine Satterlee turned to ceramics full time in 2015. She is a member of the Alexandria Clay Coop in Alexandria, Virginia. To see more, visit csatterleeceramics.com.
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PART I: Where Do Ideas Come From?
Out in the world, what usually catches my eye are not beautiful views or sunsets or gorgeous buildings but rather patterns, textures, and surfaces. When I happen upon an interesting one, I take a photograph and add it to my file of about 2000 shots collected from daily life, travels, internet searches, Instagram, and friends. They are mementos of things that inspire new pieces and new techniques.
Nelly Series
For instance, an Instagram posting by ceramic artist Nelly Bonnand of her studio in Provence drew my eye, but it was not the ceramics or the furniture or the beautiful space in the photo, but rather the rug that fascinated me (1). I’ve used that pattern over and over and will probably use it again in the future (2).
Tokyo Flowers
There are lots of beautiful manhole covers on the streets of Tokyo, but one with little flowers really spoke to me (3). Using this image as a starting point, I began working with small bits of underglaze-painted clay, which I pressed between my fingers or rolled with a pony roller, to form flower petals. These were pressed onto leather-hard surfaces slathered with super thick slip (4).
Collage with Clay
During Covid, when the studio was closed, a small paper ornament by collage artist Jennifer Penick inspired paper plates and paper bottles—mockups for what I hoped would be future ceramic pieces. I found an old trove of gouaches and cut them up for the at-home project. When I returned to the studio, I applied that same collage approach to my clay work. Instead of adhering paper scraps to cardboard with glue, I used liquid clay or underglazes to adhere the scraps of clay to a leather-hard base (5).
Impressing Stripes
A few years ago, I began combining stripes with the collage approach, rolling out thin slabs, painting them with underglazes, then slicing them into narrow strips and embedding them into large soft slabs. When the slabs stiffened, I cut them out to form vessels (6).
Kuba Series
I recently came across textiles and patterns of the old Kuba Kingdom of Central Africa, and one inspired a big plate (7) and a mirror, which in turn suggested chargers with centers removed and replaced by contrasting discs (8).
Cladding Forms
I’m a big fan of pieced quilts, and a few years ago, I came across a photo of a quilt by Rosie Lee Tompkins on Instagram, and it really blew me away (9). It suggested moving from solid-colored strips to incised and patterned strips, and moving from impressing strips into a soft slab base to completely cladding the exterior of a whole pre-fabricated, leather-hard form with soft strips (10).
Carnival Series
Not long ago, I was in a bit of a slump, and what I often do in those periods is scroll through my photo files for inspiration. I had photographed one of my painted earthenware plates drying on a striped comforter (11), and that image led to several bottles (12), and then some chargers and probably several more pieces in the future.
PART II: The Problem of Originality
Where did my love of stripes come from? Perhaps from a Gene Davis painting I grew up with. Many years later, I took a painting course with Gene at the Corcoran School of Art, where he suggested that we copy works of art! Despite the trend at the time of appropriation, this suggestion was shocking to most of us in the class who were bred on the concepts of originality and spontaneity. This was 20th-century Washington, DC, not Beaux Arts Paris! Although some say there’s no such thing as originality, I do worry about it. Oftentimes, as I’m working on a piece, I think to myself, “Haven’t I seen this before?”
Inspiration or Theft?
When I worked at the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, DC, Gerhard Richter’s Window (13) was on view for quite a while, and I loved it. So, I made Richter Bottle (14). Is this a tribute or a theft? How about the vase after Rosie Lee Tompkins’ quilt or the pattern from Nelly Bonnand’s rug?
An example of a work I’ve made that is so close to the source that it’s stealing is Joel’s Plate (15), based on A. Joel Robinson’s textile sample (16) I saw at the Cooper Hewitt Museum.
A few years ago I was called out by another artist, a jeweler in New York. In a show of her work, she had a silver necklace of large, flat loops that I loved. I made several vases and plates inspired by it and posted photos of them on Facebook. She responded by saying how flattered she was that I had been inspired by her work. Then, I made ceramic necklaces based on her design, posted those on Facebook, and she was furious! My necklaces were so fragile, I never could have sold them, but they made fine gifts for friends who knew they wouldn’t last long.
There are some pieces I can confirm that are absolutely not stolen! For a plate, I pressed a piece of metal wire—found lying in the street, most likely run over by a truck—on to the damp clay slab. Three tall vases were pressed with a strip of corrugated cardboard I found in the recycling bin in my apartment building. Daisy Plate (see 5) came from leftover scraps of clay I couldn’t bear to throw away.
Allan McCollum and Mark Twain
I’ll end with a positive interaction I had with an artist. I got to know and love Allan McCollum’s Plaster Surrogates (17) while working at the Hirshhorn Museum. A few years later when I began working with clay, his work came to mind, and I made several grid pieces and posted a few of them on Etsy (18). When I sold one of the plates, there was a note in the customer comments section that said “I just had to buy this,” signed Allan McCollum. I assumed it was a joke, but I responded by telling the writer how much I loved Plaster Surrogates and that I had hung them in the Hirshhorn gallery. When he responded by expressing his sympathy that the installation must have been difficult due to the museum’s curved walls, I knew it really had to be the artist!
Here’s what Mark Twain had to say about originality, “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”
After working as a graphic designer, a painter, an exhibits specialist at the Hirshhorn Museum, and the exhibitions coordinator at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Arlington, Catherine Satterlee turned to ceramics full time in 2015. She is a member of the Alexandria Clay Coop in Alexandria, Virginia. To see more, visit csatterleeceramics.com.
* Photo: Courtesy Nelly Bonnand, @nellybonnand, www.nellybonnand.com.
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