WHY POTS?

MUR MY ATH GAR NYNTJES EN OL BYS DHE BAR; "Thou noble pot, I love thee well. In all the world thee has no equal".

A Cornish inscription carved on a Michael Cardew jug from St. Ives, circa 1925.

BIDORO (1)

Bidoro is among my favorite types of green. Bidoro comes from the Portuguese word vitoro for glass that first appeared in Japan in the late 16th century. The areas of bidoro in Iga and Shigaraki wares sometimes forms large droplets of green glass known as “dragonfly eyes”, tombo(no)me.

This is an excellent example of the bidoro that is highly prized. This guinomi is by Iga potter, Kojima Kenji (b.1953) who is carrying on the demanding art of traditional Iga-yaki. Kojima-san has exhibited widely throughout Japan and his works quickly sell out at shows and exhibitions. I have been looking at his work for well over a decade and the true appeal of his pottery is his combination of traditional Iga pottery with the “now” of contemporary art. Kojima-san’s pieces are his own unique blend of old and new and his thoughtful attention to detail even on guinomi is wonderful. His mastery of his material and kiln are evident in his work.

The way the foot is cut, the guinomi appears to hover and begs to be used. It feels great in the hand and in it’s use. The solitary bidoro tombo(no)me just hangs off the form, frozen in time and defying gravity and logic. All in all a fine pot by a potter who adds to his art and is well worth looking for.

ALBEDO

I have been asked more than once how I came up with Albedo 3 Studio for a studio name and it is a bit round about, just like my way to clay. I first became aware of the term albedo in the late 70’s after being exposed to the musician Vangelis and his 1976 album; Albedo 0.39. For whatever reason, the spoken word piece Albedo 0.39 took hold and I became fascinated by the concept. The definition of the term albedo is “the fraction of light (from a source) reflected by a planet, body, moon, etc.”.

After leaving Cleveland State University, I set up a studio with a partner and when that ended poorly, set up my first independent studio in the mid-90s continuing to use the old studio name. Next came a series of moves to NH, CT, PA, VA and finally to central NY state. Somewhere along the way, I decided it was time for a clean break and I changed the studio name to Albedo 3 Studio.

The concept was simple and the question is, how much do I reflect the teaching, styles and concepts of those who taught me. I see myself as an incidental reflection of those individuals who helped me along my way when I started. Most gave without hesitation and with energy and insight, I now try to do the same. I have taught from time to time and hope that my students came away with as much as they could take. Maybe they will reflect those before me as well as what I have added to the mix. Potters are all like a blender, what you see and are taught goes in and comes out all mixed up into a new and distinct expression. Isn’t clay great!

(As a side note, Enceladus, a moon of Saturn, has the highest albedo in our solar system at 0.99 compared to the Earth, whose albedo is 0.39. Here is a link to a group of nasa photos of Enceladus; http://photojournal.jpl.nasa.gov/target/Enceladus )

Hump Day

I first became interested in “throwing off the hump” after watching a video showing Shoji Hamada throwing teabowls off what appeared to be a 10 to 12 pound hump of clay. This was years before I started making pots. While in Japan, I watched intently as Kohyama Yasuhisa threw chawan, tokkuri, yunomi and guinomi off the hump. That was my foundation for the technique. I was able to see several other Japanese potters throw in this way and despite a language barrier, I was able to pick up enough tips to allow me to figure out the process.

My first attempts yielded s-cracks and pots that just didn’t match in size, but over time, these hurdles were cleared. I began to throw all of my test pieces and v-bowls, teabowls and misc. pieces under about 3lbs. each this way. The key to throwing this way is the compression of the clay. Because of the forms I throw, the compression occurs in two places, on the inside, compressing toward the center and by compressing the clay which later forms the pronounced foot that I like.

There are a number of reasons that I like throwing this way. The first is you wedge once and throw up to a dozen times. It also allows a differing view point to see the form at a level perspective while still on the wheel.This technique allows me to throw and define most of the foot to minimize on tooling once the pot is leatherhard, saving on clay scraps and time down the road. Last but not least, with the piece elevated from the wheel head, any altering, paddling, stamping, etc. is easier to perform without striking the wheel. Truth be told, though I am not Japanese, nor do I think I am, throwing in this Japanese way helps me feel closer to a tradition that I have studied and admired, long before I was ever a potter.

A CONSTANT MEASURE

My introduction to pottery happened rather round about and later than usual. I had been doing free lance writing for several publications and was writing a forward to a catalogue on ceramics and figured I may want to go and get some input from the “local” pottery professor. I made an appointment and met with Bill Klock, professor of ceramics at Plattsburgh State University. Naturally, I had tons of questions and Bill suggested that I come into a class and try it for myself. Once there, I was hooked and was allowed to audit the class, fire kilns and become friends with a great teacher.


Bill, William Henry Klock, was not your ordinary teacher. He had apprenticed with Bernanrd Leach, spending some time visiting the Cardew pottery, and later in life, trekked to Korea to work with Korean craftsman and fell under the influence of the Onggi potters. His ability in clay is equally matched by his skill working with wood and his insightful draftsmanship. Bill’s style of teaching and making pots is casual. It shows in the rhythm of his pots and his pupils. His command of throwing and sculpture has been a constant measure as I work, always wondering what Bill would do and how he would approach it. We eventually made the next step and wood fired at his home in upstate New York, further cementing my future in pottery. His energy, patience and willingness to share was a boon to many, myself included, who have come in contact with Bill over the years. His command of stoneware and earthenware, sometimes made with his friend Clive Bowen, is best understood in hand and through the use of his pottery. Some of my favorite pots I own are by Bill and after nearly 20 years, the continued dialogue only deepens.

Bill retired from teaching and is Professor Emeritus of SUNY, Plattsburgh. He still makes pots and furniture when he is not off trekking about to England, the Caribbean or elsewhere with his wife Anna. Having worked/studied with three Leach pupils, a Japanese master and numerous others, I can say, Bill will remain a constant measure to guide me along the road of pottery making.

(All pots from the Bird Collection, always wanted to say that................)

THE ANACHRONISTIC JUG

When I first started making pots my sole intent was to “master” throwing the teabowl form. Once I allowed reason to prevail, I realized, best to learn to throw, then learn to throw a variety of forms and finally “master” the teabowl itself. During the early days I would sit and watch Bill Klock throw his masterful pitchers. A medium lump of clay would spring into an elegant, full and potent jug in what seemed an effortless instant. Try as I may, I could not figure out how to throw or form a pitcher. Not only was it beyond my fledgling throwing skills, but it dawned on me, I had not context or cultural relevance for the form itself.

Growing up, I remember only one pitcher in the house. I must have been 7 or 8 when the magical box appeared at our doorstep and out came the plastic, mass produced Kool-Aid pitcher and set of cups. For a number of Kool-Aid proof of purchase labels and $1.98, together with significant nagging, pleading and begging on my part, my parents mailed away for the first pitcher I can ever remember.

Over the years as first collector and then potter, I built up a better understanding of the jug and pitcher forms. Studying the historical and modern archetypes, I began to understand it’s use, form, volume, weight and the necessary handle. Armed with this new and continuing frame of reference, over the years I would make jugs and pitchers and measure them to those I knew as good examples always with a constant eye to how Bill made his pitchers.


As I make pots for a living, I found that the jug and pitcher is not that often ordered and is most likely not a staple of most households now days. Possibly a percent or two of my output is a jug or pitcher though I make them for any show or large sale I would be in. In terra cotta and stoneware these forms can take on a variety of forms and surfaces and this has allowed me to develop a personal approach to the jug and pitcher as both functional vessel and visual object. In time, I am hoping to match those jugs I saw Bill throw way back when and hope that someone will come along and use them as they were intended.

AND THE RESULTS ARE IN.......................

I opened the kiln this morning and it took a while to cool down and unload. The Minspar 200 results are the most promising. For my clear glaze a nearly 1 to 1 substitution worked out well. For the clear over other glaze it also worked out quite well, but when you put other glazes over the new Minspar 200 clear glaze, the glazes run quite badly. Not sure how bad it will be on a larger pot, that will remain to be seen. For now, the early test results seem to indicate the Minspar 200 is a good replacement with just a bit more Minspar 200 in the glaze than the old F-4. The rest of the kiln came out fine with the new “bloesem bowls” coming out rather well.

Further testing will have to wait until I make the trek to the pottery supply house. I just went to pick up clay and some other materials, so it will likely be 6 to 8 weeks before I do full scale trials on larger pots. I will keep you updated.

TEMPUS FUGIT

I spent yesterday prepping a small group of pots for glazing and then glazing them. Glaze, wax and more glaze as well as getting my group of new soda spar tests all lined up and on pods and rings. My glazes are a bit testy as the base glaze must be very dry prior to applying the second glaze. I think that is mostly due to the high clay content of the glaze. It has it’s issues, but in the end, I feel it is worth while. I have set up the tests for every conceivable use of the clear glaze, including uses I do not currently use and probably would not. I need to figure out if the Minspar 200 and the NC-4 will be a suitable substitute for the old F-4.

In the midst of trying to get everything done, phone calls, emails to answer, the wife comes home for lunch and I need to get a pot photographed to show a customer a time zone away. Though it has given the first glaze time to dry, things get rushed and time flies. It always seems to be the way, busy days get busier and down days are dreadfully slow.

I loaded the kiln last night and fired it off at a slow pace today. I am trying to control the cooling so it goes down as slow as I can make it for the best results. I hate this time, now the kiln has been fired and I can watch the intense fire color subside and I still have to wait until mid-morning tomorrow to see the test results as well as the pots and a small commission. Everyone says “patience is a virtue”, I would sooner have a ton of F-4!

MATERIAL WOES

When I first started ceramics in the late 80’s I was constantly regaled with stories of the incredible properties of various “extinct” materials. Kingman spar, colemenite, barnard, lepidolite and others. I just couldn’t relate until the demise of Albany Slip. I had early on found a variety of uses for Albany slip in my glaze palette and suddenly being without it was inconceivable. It is always really serious when it touches so close to home.

Over the years since I started, I have seen Albany slip and spodumene disappear, g-200 then there was the gerstley borate scare that sent many potters for a loop. Now the new entrant into the gone the way of the dinosaurs material is F-4 soda feldspar. Like most materials, I had become pretty dependant on it’s use in various glazes, but most specifically in my clear glaze.
My clear glaze is a very exacting and temperamental glaze and is the only glaze I currently need to measure to the exact gram. Over time, I have tried tweaking it for various reasons and ended up either clouding up the glaze, creating vast fields of micro-bubbles or just plain old crawling.

I am currently in the process of testing Minspar 200 and NC-4 as a replacement for the F-4. I am doing a series of line blends to see what happens with more and less of the new feldspars as options. Just starting this, so I will keep you informed.

ADDICTED TO GREEN

As a teen I had an unnatural fetish for all things bright yellow, right down to my size 13 Puma sneakers. So in my early 20’s, it came as quite a surprise as I became enthralled with the myriad of greens of medieval and modern Shigaraki and Iga. As I looked about, other enticing greens appeared; Oribe, Persian blue-greens, Fujina-yaki, medieval lead glazed pots and seiji/seihakuji glazes. I had to capitulate, I love green. I might as well face it, I’m addicted to green (thank you Robert Palmer).

In my late 20’s, I started making pottery and my mind ran to those greens I see when I close my eyes. Though I was neither faithful nor monogamous to those greens, but they played a large part in my developing glaze palette. Celadons, Oribe, Rob’s Green, Hamada Oribe, Seacrest glazes and many more. As I moved away from wood firing and into the “conventional” realm, I began to work on a variety of green glazes. Copper blues-greens, Oribe glazes, medieval green and than came the discovery of the extinct lepidolite. The green from lepidolite is like no other in this country. It’s surface, flow and iridescence is marvelous and the depth of it’s translucent nature is visually engaging and neither easily duplicated or forgotten.

A large part of my high-fire work now is dominated by greens together with clear and temmoku. It was a natural progression and the variety of uses is infinite. The translucent quality allows for slip and underglaze work along with my “rozome” style wax resist (ronuki) both under and over the glaze. I am constantly looking for new greens and uses for the ones I have. I am sure there is much more to do.