Sylvain Therouin is on the right – Claire Twomey is in the middle, talking to Sandie Macrae.

I couldn’t take any photos of the completed show,  inside it was too full to see the work or lift a camera! Well recommended though, more information at the caa website.

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting that would not let me sleep

Hamlet as a play doesn’t really make sense, it’s full of gaps, strange leaps and shortcuts. But in performance, something strange happens, and I was transfixed, on the edge of my seat, completely engaged even though I knew what would happen.  This is what I want for my pots – and for me why they will always be something to handle, to hold.

This is a way off, of course. I have learned to not procrastinate, to just do it, as Nike would say. Well, she is the goddess of victory.  So now I follow my obsessions, not worrying about where they take me, copying out the bits of Hamlet over and over….

And sometimes these obsessions don’t lead anywhere immediately: feeding something, but not cooked yet.   That’s another reason I’m writing here: a web site’s too finished for these kinds of pots. I need feedback on whether my latest new thing is great or a bit of a mistake. I get this at exhibitions and craft fairs as well, but here they are as well for comment.

What do you think?

I think it all started with David Tennant’s Hamlet at Stratford, after which I read the play, then Stephen Greenblatt’s Hamlet in Purgatory   (as an aside, there’s a whole chapter of it at Princeton University Press, isn’t the internet wonderful).  Lots of Shakespeare’s characters are transformed after a ‘seachange’ – Hamlet himself, nearly everyone in the Tempest, Viola washed up on the beach at Illyria. More of Hamlet soon, but first, The Tempest.

I was already making pots with a worn, blue grey volcanic glaze outside their shiny interior. Pots that had been through a seachange, maybe dug up from a wreck.  These really seemed to be about the same kinds of ideas. 

Many of these have a few fragments of the core seachange text written underneath. Here’s the verse in the Tempest:

“Full Fathom five thy father lies
Of his bones are coral made
These are pearls that were his eyes
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:   ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them, – ding-dong bell.”

Here’s a written version – I sprayed it with water to get the faded, water-marked look:

You can get the texts of Shakespeare’s plays online – for exampleHamlet at the Gutenberg project.

It was just the start of the set-up, a lot more work is to be installed.  I’m still flummoxed by exhibition set-ups – it’s like creating a performance, I think, more than making objects.

The other end of the space is a lot more messy

Each day would see 6 or 7 folk studiously applying themselves to the task of making a bonsai pot that would be both useful and that would also make them proud to have made it. David’s passion for ceramics, even after all the years that he has done it , makes him an excellent teacher.

Once an individual had completed 1 or 2 basic workshops making straightforward pot shapes, David would allow them to make pots of their own choice [ within reason ]  Above John and Dave make quite different pots.

In this photo David guides the Wee Yin in the fitting of feet to a tall cascade pot.

Len concentrates on getting his decent sized semi cascade pot square.

Next to Len , John H. is working on a similar pot getting to top nice and flat.

Here Tony really focuses on the feet on his nice shallow rectangle.

Sue, well known Treasurer of the British Shohin Association, appears to making a nice shohin size pot , now that’s  surprise !

And last, but by no means least , probably the most ‘ eye catching ‘ member of the workshop group ,  the lady formerly known as Caz , now more properly referred to Mrs. Steward and these days sporting a somewhat less noticeable hair do !  Caz was perhaps Willowbog’s most enthusiastic regular until marriage distracted her somewhat. She was also, arguably, our most naturally talented enthusiast which she built upon by participating in just about every workshop, with every leading teacher [ and there have a been a few ! ] that we have brought to Willowbog.  It was her passion and enthusiasm that lead to the start of the BSA when she began to focus more on smaller bonsai. We visited her in her garden recently and were delighted to see how well she still cares for her bonsai , some more, never before shown, of which will I hope feature in the 2012 BSA show here on March the 10th and 11th.

I knew I was in for a treat when I entered the mine...

My reliable guide, Tim Frederich

So much clay!

Everything looked so good to me.

I’ve been in hiatus for the longest time.

Recently, the energy within me is slowly starting to pick up again, and I started to consistently create new work in my clay studio.  I thought getting in the habit of blogging about the creative process would be a good way to keep myself on track.

I like to start with good material.  Kind of like cooking.  I love how Jamie Oliver and Alice Waters cook.  These chefs use fresh local organic produce and protein, always listening to the material and trying to bring out the best from them, not adding crap onto them.  I try to work in similar mindset.

I moved my family to Cleveland, OH in May of 2010.  One of the first things I did was scope out the clay situation.  I was excited to learn that Ohio was the “Pottery capital of the world”!  I mean who would make such claim other than the Chinese in Jingdezhen?  No, but they weren’t kidding, they had a pretty impressive industry going on back in the 19th century.  Some museum even said, “During the late nineteenth century, ceramic manufacturing was more important in East Liverpool than are today’s steel production in Pittsburgh or automobile manufacturing in Detroit.”  Dang.  I wish I was a potter back then.

Anyways, the images above are the source of my clay that I’m using currently.  The mine is located in Zanesville, OH.  Geographically, it’s not that far from where the popular stoneware clay Goldart comes from.  But the biggest difference for me is that the clay I get is not industrially processed.  Goldart is dry milled and goes through a process called “air floatation,” all the materials are sifted in air, and only lighter finer particles are collected and heavier particles do not make the cut.  It’s definitely good for certain purposes where refinement and consistency is called for.  But for my purpose, it’s just too clean and boring.  I really do start to get depressed when I strictly use these kinds of clays.

Everyone has that special material that speaks to them.  For me, it’s local clay.

Today I’m reminded of NCECA 2012, not because I saw my note-to-self to reserve my hotel room ASAP, but because the theme, “On the Edge,” has, in a way, been very much on my mind this week.  Here’s what the NCECA conference website says about this year’s theme:

Seattle, as well as the entire Puget Sound region, is located in a unique geographical position; on the EDGE of the country and on the EDGE of the Pacific Rim.  From this location ON THE EDGE, quite naturally, we have a broad perspective on objects, places and issues, and see great distances.  We thrive on the intersection of old and new worlds.  And we respect distant and historic cultures…Asian, Pacific, Native American, and all of our neighbors in North America.  Most of all we appreciate how they have influenced our contemporary ceramic practices.

Through creative stretching, we also visit the EDGE of our imagination and appreciate the artistic use of clay in dynamic new ways.  Even EDGY ways…often on the EDGE…sometimes with rough EDGES.

I’ve spent quality time on the edge of two continents this summer, lucky me.  They looked quite different.  The coast of the Netherlands, on the North Sea near the port of Rotterdam, is dotted with giant sea-faring cargo ships, windmills, towering loading cranes, and kite surfers.

While the Pacific Northwest sits upon the infamous Ring of Fire, along which frequent earthquakes and volcanic eruptions can and do alter the shape of our countries, the Netherlands takes a pro-active approach to geography by building their own land, as we saw at Futureland.  Wait, they’re just dumping sand into the ocean until it piles up enough to build on it?!  And it’s not going to wash away?!

Last month, I looked over the precipice while hiking Cape Lookout, west of Tillamook, Oregon.  Our hike first took us down to the beach, where waves crashed against the rocky Oregon shore.  We searched for sanddollars, but the gulls got them all much earlier that morning, and all we found were bits and pieces.  Then, back up the slope, and out to the tip of the peninsula.  Lush and green, this temperate rainforest got quieter and quieter, the farther out we hiked.  While we neglected to take our camera on this hike, this is representative of the scenery and energy of that day, and the edge of Oregon.

And now, back in my day-to-day routine of making pots, I ponder the metaphorical and literal edges of my work.  While I want my pottery to be functional, I also like to push the notion of what a functional form is supposed to look like.  My coffee cups have three feet and my boxes have no handles, but they do not suffer for it, in my humble opinion.  Sometimes, in fact, function takes a back seat to design or grace or movement.

And then there’s the literal edges of my work.  I spent this week decorating pots, painting on underglazes and then carving delicate lines and designs into the brushwork.  When I throw the pieces that will become bowls and cups and mugs, I form the lip to create a surface for decoration.  It has a slight incline that is comfortable for your lip, and/or to lead your eye inward, to the space I’ve created.  It’s also a great opportunity to add ornamentation, and I have such fun coming up with different patterns of dots, circles and lines to jazz up each piece in a unique way.

Here’s to hoping I always have the confidence and the curious spirit to play on the edge.

That is starting to change.

I spent the entire weekend in the studio watching master potter Lorna Meaden make her exquisite pots. For me, Lorna is one of those potter’s whose pots make me wonder “how did she do that?”  I love that. I love the element of mystery and surprise in her pots. So finally getting to watch her in action was a great treat.

As with most workshops I attend, I had several aha moments.  My favorite was a handle she made, that she doesn’t even make any more, but which switched some lights on for me as how I might resolve some issues in my own pots that I have been struggling with.

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This is why I love workshops.  I have no desire to make someone else’s pots.  But I love learning.  And those aha moments are priceless.

Speaking of workshops, tomorrow I get on a plane and travel to Mississippi. I am super excited about it.  I love teaching, but I so rarely demonstrate my own work. This will be a treat to reveal some of my own “secrets.”  I know many people think my pots are entirely handmade.  Ah, the surprises they are in for.

Of course, I have some nerves.  There are 60 participants in all, split evenly between Randy Brodnax and myself.  That’s a big crowd for me.  Watching Lorna struggle with her own pots while trying to talk and throw this weekend, made me feel so much better.  I only hope that I can be the pro she was and save them so gracefully.

See you down South,

About the Author: Laurie Erdman has been making pots since 2003.  She discovered the joy of mud when seeking a stress release from her day job as an attorney.  Over the years she knew it helped ground her, but not more so than when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  It was then that she realized how pottery had taught her some powerful spiritual and life lessons. In addition to designing a line of nature-inspired pottery, she teaches pottery and meditation, and helps others learn the healing powers of clay. Laurie lives in Arlington, Virginia, makes pots at the Art League of Alexandria, fires her pots at Baltimore Clayworks, and enjoys spending time with her husband, her Italian Greyhound Skippy and helping people with chronic illness thrive.

You see its been a while since I have regularly been in the studio.  Time has just not permitted it.  But I have been sneaking in when I can and going through my repetiore of pots, seeing if I remember what I am doing.  Teapots, check. Bowls, check.  Tumblers, check. Flower buckets, check.

Last week, however, I attempted pitchers.  I make two types of pitchers.  My dancing pitcher that is really more decorative than anything else.  But it’s one of my favorite forms.  However, it is a challenge to throw and get the proportions right.

The other pitcher is what I refer to as my tulip pitcher, because that was the inspiration. That’s also a tricky form because of proportions and then the measuring and cutting. As I get ready for the clay conference, I was dreading these forms. Would I even make them?

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Last week I sat at the wheel to see if I could shake loose that muscle memory and remember how to throw these complicated forms. I tell my students, especially the beginners, that there is no substitute for time on the stool.  Your muscles have to learn a whole new way of working. And once they learn it, they have to have it drilled in their little muscle brains.

So last week was a test of how well my muscles had learned those forms, even though they hadn’t made them in months.  To my delight and surprise, the forms came together pretty well.  Not as rusty as I would have thought.

Now to go pack pots for shipping.  Never my favorite project, but I love sharing my work with others.

Staying muddy,

About the Author: Laurie Erdman has been making pots since 2003.  She discovered the joy of mud when seeking a stress release from her day job as an attorney.  Over the years she knew it helped ground her, but not more so than when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  It was then that she realized how pottery had taught her some powerful spiritual and life lessons. In addition to designing a line of nature-inspired pottery, she teaches pottery and meditation, and helps others learn the healing powers of clay. Laurie lives in Arlington, Virginia, makes pots at the Art League of Alexandria, fires her pots at Baltimore Clayworks, and enjoys spending time with her husband, her Italian Greyhound Skippy and helping people with chronic illness thrive.

Since I trim my pots pretty wet, I didn’t let some dampness dissuade me too much.  The bowls survived, but one of the 3 teapots did not.  Ah, when will I learn?

It took me until this last Sunday to finish assembling and slipping the pots.  That left me with a couple of hours of wheel time just before my afternoon class.  But I couldn’t do it.  All I wanted to do was sleep. And that’s when I wondered, why isn’t there a couch in the studio?  How delicious would that be? Of course, how inviting it would be covered in dust is another thing.

With no couch available, I found a comfortable chair and caught a few zzz’s, and then went outside to catch some rays.  Not exactly the most productive pottery making time, but I am happy to report that I am dreaming of pots again.  Yes, literally.  It has been at least 6 months since I have had a dream of pots or a studio.  They have  returned, and for that I am grateful.

About the Author: Laurie Erdman has been making pots since 2003.  She discovered the joy of mud when seeking a stress release from her day job as an attorney.  Over the years she knew it helped ground her, but not more so than when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  It was then that she realized how pottery had taught her some powerful spiritual and life lessons. In addition to designing a line of nature-inspired pottery, she teaches pottery and meditation, and helps others learn the healing powers of clay. Laurie lives in Arlington, Virginia, makes pots at the Art League of Alexandria, fires her pots at Baltimore Clayworks, and enjoys spending time with her husband, her Italian Greyhound Skippy and helping people with chronic illness thrive.

Not living anywhere near a commune, I missed one feature of the 60’s/70’s, something referred to as the Buddha bowl.  Seemingly adopted from the begging bowls of Buddhist monks, the concept as it was Westernized is simple. It is a bowl.  A good sized bowl.  One large enough to contain a single meal. When used in the 60s and 70s, Buddha Bowls often times contained – a macrobiotic meal.

For those that don’t know about macrobiotics, it was brought to the U.S. by Michio Kushi from Japan.  It relies on the concept of balancing yin and yang and is a vegetarian diet composed primarily of brown rice, cooked vegetables, beans, sea vegetables and soy.  There is a great deal of literature about the healing powers of a macrobiotic diet; it has healed people from hyper-thyroidism to cancer.

Since many communes followed the macrobiotic way, residents used a lot of Buddha bowls.  Although I can’t substantiate this, I suspect the concept arose from the fact that bowls were easier for the commune potter to make than plates.  I know if I had been the commune potter, I certainly would have insisted everybody use bowls for every meal.

I was first introduced to the concept of Buddha bowls when I went to Kripalu last August.  In addition to the fabulous vegetarian and vegan fare, the dining hall includes a “Basics Bar”, formerly known as the Buddha bar.  At the end of the bar, were slightly oversized bowls, which people would load up with goodies from the Basics Bar or other stations in the dining hall.  That would constitute their entire meal.  What a great way to instill portion control and mindfulness into the buffet line.

As I set off on the new chapter in my life as holistic health coach and studio potter, I began to ponder if there were ways that I could integrate my two passions.  That was when I remembered Kripalu’s Basics Bar and the Buddha Bowl.  What if I made a series of bowls intended to be used in the same way as done at Kripalu and the communes of the 70s.  And to make it even better, I could add a cookbook to accompany every purchase.  Brilliant!

Now that I am back in the studio, I am exploring the right design and proportions for these bowls.  The first attempt (shown below) was 3 pounds.  Although they still need to be fired, I suspect these will be a tad too large.  This week, I will experiment with 2.5 pounds of clay.

For some artistic flare, I am experimenting with the rims.  I hope these bowls will get lots of usage and want to make sure their rims hold up.  I love rolled rims, but I haven’t been real thrilled with my past experiments of rolling the rim inside or outside.  I like both looks, just not singularly.  So I wanted to try splitting the rim and rolling it in both directions. Definitely trickier, but lot’s more fun. And a nice look that will complete a sturdy foot.

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In parallel, I am experimenting in the kitchen with exciting one-bowl concoctions. As spring approaches, one of my favorites is Quinoa Tabbouli with Avocado.

Prep Time: 15 minutes

Cooking Time: 30 minutes

Yield: serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 cup quinoa, thoroughly rinsed and drained in fine mesh strainer (experiment with different colored quinoa)
• 1 cup water
• sea salt, optional
• minced red onion
• chopped fresh parsley
• chopped fresh mint
• 1 can of garbanzo beans/chick peas, rinsed and drained
• 1 avocado, peeled and thinly sliced

Optional ingredients:

Cubed and cooked beets, cucumbers, blanched carrots, blanched broccoli or cauliflower florets, halved cherry tomatoes, snap peas, corn kernels or any other colorful vegetable you feel is appropriate (beets will turn quinoa slightly pink). You can also add other beans.

Dressing:

• juice of several lemons
• extra-virgin olive oil
• sea salt

Directions:

• Bring rinsed and drained quinoa to a boil with water and salt.
• Cover and reduce flame to lowest point.  Cook for 20-25 minutes until water is absorbed.
• Spread cooked quinoa on large platter to cool.
• Meanwhile, make lemon vinaigrette by combining lemon juice, olive oil and salt to taste (essentially, 2 parts juice to one part oil).
• Combine all ingredients and refrigerate salad until chilled.
• Before serving, garnish each bowl with ¼ of an avocado, thinly sliced.

Variations:

Substitute apple cider vinegar for lemon juice and add dijon mustard for added zing.

Sprinkle umeboshi plum vinegar to the dressing for a kick.

Add freshly chopped basil or dill to the salad.

Salud!

Happy to be throwing again,

Laurie

About the Author: Laurie Erdman has been making pots since 2003.  She discovered the joy of mud when seeking a stress release from her day job as an attorney.  Over the years she knew it helped ground her, but not more so than when she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.  It was then that she realized how pottery had taught her some powerful spiritual and life lessons. In addition to designing a line of nature-inspired pottery, she teaches pottery and meditation, and helps others learn the healing powers of clay. Laurie lives in Arlington, Virginia, makes pots at the Art League of Alexandria, fires her pots at Baltimore Clayworks, and enjoys spending time with her husband, her Italian Greyhound Skippy and helping people with chronic illness thrive.

I had thrown a couple of forms that I intended to make into larger forms of my, for lack of a better name, cracker baskets.  I added two side handles similar to before.  But I wasn’t satisfied with the result. Maybe this didn’t work on a larger scale, I thought.  I covered up the form with plastic and decided to come back to it another day.

Then one night, as I was fading off to sleep – the best time for creative inspiration – it came to me.  Add another handle that connected to two that were already there, and really make it into a basket form.  Here is the result in bisque stage.

I then tried a variation with the other pot.

What do you think?

To me, these pots feels like the culmination of three years of work (not that I have hit a peak so quickly). They are thrown on a wheel, without a bottom – my signature mode of making starting about 2 years ago.  The rim is thinned and then rolled over, like I started this last year.  A slab bottom was added and adorned, like I have done for 2 years, but with a pony roller instead of a paddle, as I learned from Aysha Peltz many years ago.  The handles are inspired by my study of Greek pottery, my experimentation over the last year, and a pot of Josh DeWeese’s I saw at a pre-NCECA conference.

Next step will be to make a few more of these and then fire them in my February wood-firing.  I love the boldness, yet sensuality of these pots.  I think they will develop nicely with the kiss of ash.

Last year I was experimenting with a lot of different forms for me.  This year, I am limiting my experimentation and mostly sticking with what I know. This form, however, will make the cut. There is so much to work with here and somehow I think the forms are almost sexy. I will chronicle the development of this series of forms over the coming year.

Perky Loop - Wood-fired

Back in August, I posted about a new form I was making (now called a cracker basket) and my experimentation with handles on that form. A little slow, but I have finally gotten around to taking pictures of those six pots.  Here they are.

As I wrote then, I was sitting with the pots to determine which handle I liked the best.  In the green state, it was definitely crimped. But now that they are all fired and glazed, my opinion is shifting.

Tiny Loop - Salt/Soda-glazed

Tiny loop holds tremendous appeal. My finger tuck underneath the handle easily.  And then there are the colors that are so appealing.

Crimped - Wood-fired

Flattened - Salt/Soda-Glazed

Droppy - Wood-fired

Standing At Attention - Salt/soda-glazed

Crimped is not holding as much appeal as it did in the green state, although I do love the distribution of ash on the rim.

One other observation I have on these forms is that a constrasting color on the interior/rim/handle is very attractive.

So what are your thoughts on this motley collection?  Any favorites? If so, why?

View through the passive damper

This last weekend marked the third time in the last year I fired my work in the wood kiln at Baltimore Clay Works.  There were five us (two associates, three students and two wood-firing virgins) from the Art League.  My anxiety over not having enough work paid off (sort of).  Most of the crew got all their work in, but I was left with a dozen or so pots that returned home.  Yes, I’m already contemplating Round 4.

Lot's of pots

More pots - for the salt chamber

Bricking the Salt Chamber

We spent Friday loading and then the weekend taking the lead from Jim Dugan and his assistant Justin from MICA in stoking and salting the kiln.  Tomorrow we unload.

Morning stoking

Marlisa adding soda

The big decision of the firing was how much salt/soda.  We went with 1 pound of salt and 5 pounds of soda, which was prepared with water and laid out on boards.

Hot Pots

Beautiful flame

I’ll post more pics once the results are in.

I also want to give a big thanks to Jon Randall for sharing his great photography skills with Spirit of Clay.

Tomorrow I am loading 170 pots (small to large) in the wood-kiln.  We will fire this weekend and unload next Wednesday (and you wondered where I got the “wood-fired wednesday” idea).  When looking at the calendar, I realized that my wood-firings have been in conjunction with the seasonal changes.  This year, I fired on the spring  equinox.  I will unload this firing on the autumnal equinox.  I don’t know how this happens, it just happens.  But as my husband says, “there are no mistakes.”

Seasons are about changes.  From spring through the hibernation of winter, the seasons mark changes in our environment and in our lives.  This year has brought many changes in my life.  Many of which I can mark by my time with the wood-kiln.

Winter

My winter was all about hunkering down with my diagnosis and changing to a healthy lifestyle.  During that process, I made a lot of pots. I made pots in part to meditate on the changes going in my life and in part to remind myself that I wasn’t disabled. I was alive and kicking.

Spring

With the spring came the firing of those winter pots and the ceasing of doubts.  With every pot I made, I wondered:  “Would I be able to handle the hard work of wood-firing?” Would the lack of sleep and the hard work trigger a relapse?” Thanks to the wood-firing community and my intent to stay healthy, the firing was a success in every way.  The pots were wonderful and my health remained in tact. I entered spring having proved to myself that I could continue to make pots the way I wanted to make them.

Summer

Summer came and I grew and changed.  I focused on fine tuning my work and my health.  My body of work became more cohesive.  I finally made a teapot that I liked, a lot.  Having proven that I could still push myself for my passion, I made a lot of work. I also learned my limitations and how to adapt. I added yoga to my daily routine and became stronger physically and mentally because of it. I also rested in preparation for the changes that would come with fall.

Fall

While fall is about harvest, there is also the lingering feelings of new beginnings left over from those many years in school.  This fall is no different.

This fall I will further refine my approach to health living while starting a new chapter.  I am taking my own health success as inspiration to begin studying to be a wellness coach. I look forward to learning more on a subject that I am passionate about.  And I am excited to help others find the joys of living a healthy life style.

In keeping with fall traditions, next Wednesday I will “harvest” numerous touts of new pots.  Many of the  pots are experimental in form or surface treatment. I anticipate these experiments will lead my work in new directions.  So this fall I plan to take a break from “producing.”  I will not stop creating, however.  Instead, I will play.  I will pursue the things that have been haunting my dreams.  I will begin to explore my ideas of clay in small scale architectural ceramics.  Oh, and still working on those teapots.

I’ll see you back here next week, with pictures of the wood-firing.  The two things I am most excited to see are my teapots and dinnerware.  Stay tuned.

What kind of change are you anticipating this fall?

Making handles is a big challenge.  But once I got the hang of it thanks to Gay Smith, I haven’t been able to stop myself from exploring and experimenting with them.  Swoop up or down or straight off the pot.  Crimped, smooshed or flattened.

I recently started making these forms I call letter carriers.  Low oval-ed shapes perfect for holding the mail, stationary or other desk items.  Also good for bread sticks or carrot sticks or other yummy treats.  I recently made a series of 6 and decided to use them as a handle experiment.  This is similar to what Emily Murphy did a while back with cups. This exercise is about exploring the form.  In this case, I was exploring the form of a handle.  I highly recommend this kind of exercise no matter what the aspect of a pot you want to improve.  You learn so much.

In this case, these handles are mostly decorative, although imagine the user will use them to pick up and move the piece around.  They don’t have to be large enough to fit your hand in, or even a finger.  As I continued with each set of handles, I realized that they were often more about creating negative space as opposed to functional space.

I haven’t yet decided which is my favorite and will make it into my regular design. Right now, I want to sit with all of them.  Yet, I would love thoughts from my readers.

Crimped

Droopy loop

Perky loop

Flattened

Tiny loop

Standing at Attention

Starting September 26, I will be teaching a 9 week beginning and intermediate throwing and handbuilding class at the Art League in Alexandria.  This is your chance to learn how to make your own pottery and learn the ways of clay.

Come get dirty.

To sign up, click here.

There are easier ways to make a pot than by wood-firing. It’s a lot of hard work, long hours, and unpredictable results.  Despite all these “negatives”, there is something that draws me (and many others) to the hard labor.

I fired in electric for many years. Firing in electric kilns is not without it’s risks or heavy lifting.  Yet there is a comfortable predictability with electric once your glazes are dialed-in.  Electric also has the advantage that it can be done solo. But there is something missing for me in the world of electric. Even firing with gas doesn’t quite hold the mystic and glory that wood provides (although I prefer gas over wood for firing dinner ware to reduce the breakage and warping factor).

When prepping for a firing I often get overwhelmed – the kiln takes lots of pots.  But as I get closer, I get excited by the group dynamic.  I just love the community atmosphere of wood-firing.  You can’t fire a wood-kiln alone (at least easily) like you can electric or gas. You need more then two hands and two sets of eyes to get through a wood-firing.  One of my favorite examples of the community of wood-firing was highlighted in a Thanksgiving day NPR story two years ago.  The story was of a Miami Valley potter who fires for 36 hours.  He has a crew of 40 helping him.  Most aren’t potters, but customers who want to take part in the process of making the pots they will eventually buy.  Not many crafts can replicate that kind of customer participation.

Another draw is the labor.  Ok, I don’t enjoy cleaning kiln shelves, mudding the door or cleaning out the kiln.  Yet like the joy a cyclist experiences when reaching the summit and seeing an amazing view that is made all the sweeter by the work done to get there, the work that goes into firing a wood-kiln seems to make the pots more beautiful.  Maybe its that primal connection to our ancestors.  Maybe its the sweet feeling of sore muscles from hard work as opposed to laboring in an air conditioned gym.  Either way, I  get satisfaction from having to give up some blood and sweat for those pots.

The partnership with the kiln and the faith involved in the process and the flame, is also a huge draw.  When I open the peep-holes and the flame leaps out searching for oxygen, I know I am working in tandem with another living, breathing being. That’s exciting.  And while I get that rush a bit from firing with gas, the wood kiln has a way of leaving its mark on the pots that gas doesn’t do for me.  Being able to see the direction the flame came across the pot is mesmerizing.  And then there is the ash.  The beautiful ash that lands on the pots and melts into wonderful colors and patterns.  I can only do so much to influence that and the rest is up to the kiln.  For this recovering control junky, leaving such a critical part of the making process (surface decoration) up to the kiln is exhilarating, even if a bit frightening.

I am asked if the results are worth the work.  In my opinion, yes. There is a subtle beauty to wood-fired pots that I don’t find elsewhere.  The variations in surface can’t be replicated from one firing to another, much less by hand. Each piece is unique no matter how identical they were coming out of bisque.  I even find my wood-fired pots look and feel more alive than my other pots.  In the example below, this pot is not glazed.  Yet the surface is so rich. So yes, the result is worth the labor.

It is this love of wood-fired pottery that has led me to dedicate every Wednesday on this blog to wood-fired pottery.  I try to find potters that may not be well-known; potters who are dedicated to the process.  Don’t miss a single Wood-fired Wednesday, subscribe to my blog now.

I would love your thoughts on wood-firing.

Last week I traveled to Portland, Oregon to hang out with a dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in many years.  We went to Powell’s Books (twice).  Under the supervision of Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens, we picked strawberries on Suavie Island.  We walked on the beach and browsed the galleries in Cannon Beach.  We ate lots of good food and I even sipped a bit of wine.  On Sunday morning, we saw my husband off, as he departed on an 11 day cycling trip that will end in Jackson, Wyoming.  A wonderful trip.

It's hard work picking strawberries

Mount Hood oversees the field work.

A stroll on Cannon Beach with the Haystack in the background

I return to the studio tomorrow to check on some bowls (I hope they are not too dry to trim) and to concentrate on my own work.  This will begin the last big push for my September wood-firing.

Stay centered.

Laurie

Register here

I recently met Fong Choo at the Smithsonian Crafts Show.  I will always remember him at the guy with the big personality and tiny teapots.  I was mesmerized by his teapots.  And you will be to.

The teapots bodies are thrown and altered on the wheel, and then embellished with handbuilt handles, feet, and spouts. Fong layers commercial glazes to get amazing surfaces. He will demonstrate his method of throw, altering and handbuilding to make these little gems.  He will also discuss his method of glazing and firing.

In his own words:

For more than a decade I’ve been exploring the teapot in its miniaturized form. The teapot form continues to challenge and fascinate me, and the idea of doing one thing and doing it well has been central to the success of my profession as a potter. There are a lot of techniques involved in making these teapots, and some of the techniques require tools that I have made for myself to suit a certain situation.

Although a native of Singapore, I attended college in North Carolina with graduate work in Kentucky at the University of Louisville. I’m inspired by my Chinese heritage, and particularly in the long tradition of Yixing pottery. My teapots are small and jewel-like, made of porcelain and often fired to cone 6 in an electric kiln.

Fong Choo teapot

Don’t miss this opportunity!

Mark your calendars and I will update this post when registration is open.

When using a slab bottom on a pot, Nick replicates his fluid line from the pot, onto the slab so it shows up on the bottom of the pot (see photo below).  This captivated me.  I have always paid particular attention to how I finish my trimmed bottoms, but slabs have been more of a challenge for me.  This was such a beautiful, thoughtful touch.  It showed me that Nick was really thinking about this piece.  And of course, when I place my mug in the dishwasher, I get a nice surprise.

While at the pre-conference, I got the opportunity to add a Lorna Meaden mug to my collection and was delighted to see a similar thoughtful approach to her work.  Her mishima and glaze work pattern up on the bottom of her pot as well.  Obviously another step, and one most potters would not take because of time required or just not thinking about it.  But as a user of both of these vessels, I appreciate that the makers took the time and thought through this.  (Note, Lorna will be joining us next spring at the Art League for a weekend workshop and I personally can’t wait).

I have taken these lessons from Ron and Nick and Lorna with me into the studio over the last few months.   I had believed that I think through my pots.  But when I graduated from student to associate and got control over the entire making process, I had to raise my level of thinking.  I had many more choices to make.  But with the lessons of these masters, I find myself being even more methodical about the construction and particularly the finishing of my pots and the expression of my artistic statement.  My slab bottoms are gaining some interest, and now include that element of surprise I so enjoy when flipping Nick and Lorna’s mug over.

But pot bottoms aren’t the only place to exercise my grey matter.  I’ve also been thinking a lot about how to finish the rims of vessels – another constant struggle for me with all the alteration I do.  My next firing will provide feedback on those rims, many of them fat and rolled, some innerward, some outward. So far, I prefer these to a rim that just seems to stop.

Rolled rims on large serving bowls

So what are you thinking about most in your art?  How do you show the world that you are thinking?

Bound for Kansas City Clay Guild - "On the Edge"

Last fall, just after I had finished firing pots for the holiday show season, I sat down to focus on teabowls and cups.  I had studied the traditional Japanese forms, but wanted to give them my artistic statement.  In my first throwing session, I threw about ten teabowls and new cups. As they sat drying on the ware board, I wondered if I had lost my touch.  I hated them.  So I wrapped them in plastic and left the studio.

I returned a few days later to “save” them.  That day I left the studio elated.  Not only had I saved these teabowls and cups, but I created pieces that captured my imagination.  They had my signature altering, but I had added even greater interest by playing loose with my trimming tool.  I left lines and shifting planes along the underbelly and around the foot.  Now instead of a short stumpy little pot that sat on the ware board, I had something with volume and interest beyond what I imagined. And they insist upon being held.  The alteration gives them a bit of an oval shape, with two little spots that fit snugly into the palm of your hand. Perfect for being one with your tea.

Needless to say, I was pretty proud of my new creations. However, since I was saving them for the wood-kiln it wouldn’t be until March that I see them completed.  I’m glad I waited.  I was thrilled with the results as the surface complimented the form in a way only wood-firing can.  I sent photos of my best three teabowls to Kansas City Clay Guild in early April for the Teabowl National.  The wood-fired teabowl shown above was selected and will be shipped to Kansas City this week. It will be there for the month of June.

Others from that same throwing session and wood-firing have been finding themselves new homes through out the U.S and receiving rave reviews. “Beyond expectations”.  “Nice addition to my collection.” In focusing on these forms, which are so simple, yet say so much, I found a fun place to focus my creative energies.  They now compete with food bowls as my favorite form to throw.

So as I prepare for my next wood-firing, I will be throwing lots of teabowls and yunomis.  I look forward to exploring further the form, the lines, and the surface. This exploration is one of the most satisfying aspects of working in clay.

Wood-fired yunomi - Laurie Erdman

Wood-fired yunomi Laurie Erdman

I have yearned for this knife for years.  I have used an exacto, but it just wasn’t the same.  Then I went to NCECA this year.  Dolan is back.  Yeah.  I got my knife a few other tools.

I got to give my new knife a test run this weekend.  I usually cut small items in my hand for control.  I’ve never had a problem with that, until now.  I have a nasty slice on my finger to prove that my Dolan is the sharpest knife in my tool cut.  This didn’t stop me from throwing or assembling, but the band-aid was annoying.

I’m not fretting.  I love the knife.  But need to be more careful.

So what was I making?  I have been thinking about making serving trays for a while, but Nick’s workshop gave me the push to finally do so.  I made 3 small-medium sized trays.  I liked the idea of bisecting them, although realized last night there is a better way to do it so they don’t look like I laid them over a dowel (like I did).  That will be experiment two.

Nonetheless, I am still happy with the initial results.  In particular, I included the touch which I learned from Nick of adding texture suggestive of my normal texture to the bottom of the pot.  I think this is such a nice touch Nick adds to his pots, and shows that he is thinking about every last detail. I love that.