Form, Glaze, and Little Words from the Past

It's odd how little phrases, little bits of conversation can stick in your mind and have such an effect... Strange to spend so many years in school, but what might really make a difference are those few paragraphs, picked here and there from lectures by your favorite professors, or a little mental collection of offhanded comments. I have so many of these little memories, little lights that came on in my head because of words that may not have immediately seemed to be full of wisdom, but in time came to give remarkable insight into my life and art.

One early class I had in ceramics included a day's lecture on glazing, which of course it inevitably would. At the time I know I was less than fascinated, having played with (or at times, more seriously, actually used) clay since I was a child. Glazing was old news, something I'd never really considered except as another part of the process, and I was already fairly familiar with various glaze techniques. How could you have ceramics without glaze? It just... was. But then the professor mentioned that most potters tend to favor one part of the process or the other - the building, or the glazing. He was one to prefer building, and to use rather minimal glazed designs. Of course there are others who focus more on the surface than the shape of the form, who perhaps create very simple forms and spend hours decorating them. He also spoke of the importance of considering the glaze while creating the form, to create the piece as a whole, and have both processes compliment each other, no matter which you might enjoy more. I listened, finally fascinated, because things which had been in the back of my mind for so long were finally being put into words.

For the first time, I found myself considering the finished product as the combination of two parts. I started to question in my own work whether I was favoring the form or the glaze. Eventually, I began to really strongly consider what I was going to make and what it would look like in the end before starting to make it. And I discovered, slowly, that I really do prefer the building. I love the form, I love the expressiveness of the shapes I can make. I love the clay for being clay, not just a substitute for paper or canvas. I love raku and soda firing and wood firing and pit firing because they show off the potential of the glaze and the smoke and the fire to create such beautiful natural designs with so little human guidance. And I really do prefer to spend a great deal of time considering the forms I am building from every possible direction, making certain that they flow, seeing that every curve compliments the others. I also know how important it is to know my glazes, even if I'm not as excited about them, and to know what they are capable of, even if the result is a bit unpredictable.

Another moment which has stayed with me is when that same professor, a few years later, told me I had a great grasp of form - a moment when I glowed a little inside and started trying even more to create something with a beautiful feel to it. At the same time he also told me to be more careful, to make the curves smoother, the lips more deliberate, and the surface more intentional and finished. I think he'd be happy to know I'm now obsessed with smoothing out my work, and I never even start a pot without my metal scraper anymore :)

Yes, it's interesting how such little, brief conversations can serve to make you grow, to make you think, to give you direction. One of my Japanese professors stressed how impressive it might be to fill out applications in both Japanese and English, and now, when I can and when it is relevant, I write in both languages. Another professor gave me advice when I expressed a bit of concern about what on earth I was to do with a ceramics degree after college. He said, take a year and make everything you possibly can. Work hard, do nothing else, apply to every opportunity, contest, gallery, or exhibition you are interested in. And in a year, evaluate where you are. See if you are getting good results, and if you think you can make a career of it.

It's been more than a year now, but here I am, and with every breath and every heartbeat I'm still trying my hardest to make something amazing. And finally, despite any confidence I may have previously shown, I'm starting to really, deep down believe that I can go somewhere with all of this.