Practice Makes Near Perfect

The Museu Picasso in Barcelona has hundreds of sketches and paintings that Picasso made while he was a young man, still living in Spain, before his move to Paris. There are seascapes painted on pieces of cardboard box, and sketches on thin pieces of wood. Case after case contains sketchbooks of landscapes and animals. It appeared that if, in the Picasso household, there was a scrap of paper, or box, or cardboard around, it was immediately sequestered to become a small painting. Why?

My theory is that some people feel the obsessive drive to constantly create. As one author once noted, "Genius comes in fragments." When we complete an artistic task or solve a creative problem, over and over, we start to see closure. We also start to see a sort of perfection, and the work becomes more fine, and our skills slowly advance. But, this progress cannot be made without constant practice.

 

Several years ago, I worked in display design for Macy's. It was a very creative job, and I seemed to have no problem supplying a seemingly endless amount of solutions to display problems. I started to worry that my creativity would "dry up", with overuse. As a painter, I had hit slumps, when I felt frustrated and unproductive. So, about every two weeks, I would make my way to the public library, and check out five or six large art books. Each morning, while eating breakfast, I would fuel my creativity by browsing through these books. Although, I was half asleep, the images and ideas were somehow imprinted on my subconscious. I often thought that this technique kept my mind nimble and creative. But, now that I look back, I think it was the daily practice of solving display problems that actually fueled my creativity. 

The biggest part of art is in the doing: the getting down to business. I think that Picasso understood that quite well. This explains why he was so prolific as a painter, and a sculptor. When you constantly create, not every piece that emerges from the studio is a dazzler. But, without the flow of constantly making, the pieces that shine, would never appear. 

Michoacan Pineapples

My very favorite form of folk art ceramic is the pineapples of Michoacan, Mexico. Traditionally, the pineapple is a symbol of hospitality. And, usually the artists who craft these pieces use green, yellow, brown, and sometimes blue glazes. The clay is found near San Jose de Gracia and Patamban. First, it is ground to a powder in a hand mill. Then it is modeled and molded. The first firing is an open pit fire. The pit is covered near the end of the firing. After the pineapples have cooled, they are glazed with the distinctive glazes. During the second firing, the pieces must be stilted and kept apart, as all parts are glazed.

I am the happy owner of two Michoacan pineapples. They welcome me into my living room after a hard day at work, and take me back to memories of a fun trip to Mexico with Jana and Darryl a few years back. The glaze glows in lamplight, or in candlelight. I know that this sounds crazy, but if there was a disaster at my house, I might be seen running out into the street in my pajamas… with a Michoacan pineapple under my arm. Maybe.

 

New Color in Town

After buying some new underglaze colors last month, they are finally starting to make their way into my work. More experiments with letting the clay show through, for a cement-like, antiqued finish are in the works.

Ceramics is a Many Splendored Thing

The ceramic process is indeed a lengthy process. There are so many options, and there is so much to consider. And, the steps each require a variety of different skills. The first step involves working with wet clay. It is an area for much problem solving and creativity. The second step is an occasion for a lot of patience and waiting! Before the first firing, the project needs to be bone dry. It must not be cold to the touch. Absolutely no water inside the clay body allowed!

Once the piece is bone dry, it gets bisque fired in the kiln. The next step is glazing, which takes me the greatest amount of time and effort. Once glazed, the piece goes into the kiln for a second firing. Afterwards, I apply several underglaze washes. Then, we're ready for the third, and final trip to the kiln.

With all of these steps, it's important to organize the order of my work. I have to evaluate where each piece is on the "spectrum of doneness".  Some pieces channel through the whole process together. It's a wonderful network of connection. Sometimes it's easy to procrastinate and for work to stall out in one part of the process.

Right now, I'm working on some giant bead poles that will be supporting a corrugated tin awning on my clay shed. All of the beads are in various stages of the process. We'll see how the whole project comes together! After my temporary shade structure blew down in a recent storm, there is renewed interest in this project. I am keeping this quote by Thomas Jefferson in my head: "Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time, who never loses any."

Like Christmas Morning

How is opening a kiln like Christmas morning?  Well, strangely, it is.  When I fire up the kiln, I usually candle it slowly, with a three to five hour warm up period.  This means that each firing can take up to 16 hours.  Most kiln loads are mixed loads of bisque ware, and glaze ware.  Sometimes, I put student work (3rd graders) into the kiln.  Sometimes, I'm even forcing the student work to dry quickly.  Because each load contains finished work, it's always difficult to wait for the results.

Our family celebrated Christmas with some annual traditions.  On Christmas Eve, we were allowed to open only one present.  I believe that this is actually a Danish custom.  On Christmas morning, we had to get dressed before heading in to the Christmas tree (and to our presents).  There was a sense of anticipation that built from that one unwrapped gift on Christmas Eve.

Each time I fire up the kiln, I feel the same sense of anticipation.  I can't wait to see how the glazing and the decoration turns out.  The kiln becomes a giant present, just waiting to be ripped open.  It's hard to be patient, and to wait until it cools from 2,000 degrees down to 100 degrees.  In fact, it's physically impossible NOT to open the lid and look inside.  Peek holes are helpful in that respect!  Sometimes, I find myself standing in the garage, in my pajamas.  Then, it looks a lot like Christmas morning to me!

You might notice that the temperature in the first photo is 297 degrees.  It has got to cool a bit more.  In the second picture, even Betty the dog is waiting.

Kathryn McBride

Recently, the local clay community lost an important member.  Kathryn McBride was more than just a teacher. And, taking her class was a life-changing experience for me.  I realized, by watching her work, that handbuilding with clay was an exercise in problem-solving of the highest order.  At every step of the process, from the initial idea, to the finished, glazed product, there were choices to be made, ideas to be carefully considered.  Watching her work was always a pleasure.  Her hands worked independently, automatically, almost magically.  But, her brow would furrow with deliberate concentration, and her mouth would compress into a tight line.  Her clay of choice was porcelain, and she was always so respectful in the way that she handled that material.  But, when she worked, there was laughter, and joy, because Kathryn truly loved what she was doing.

While taking a couple of other night courses at Cabrillo (kiln mooching), I was able to watch Kathryn put together and install some large group projects.  One evening, she prepared some giant beads that had been pit fired by her beginning students, creating an enormous mobile.  She spent over an hour, rearranging the beads to make the best composition, and "stringing" them with airplane cable.  It was an incredible piece of work.  Each bead was independent.  But, each bead also coordinated in color and shape, to the adjacent beads.  The ceramics room was, as usual, a noisy hive of activity.  It was May, and every table was full.  But, Kathryn was oblivious to the confusion, and was completely focused on her problem-solving.  She was coaxing the beads into becoming the complex project that she had invented in her head.

One time, I mistakenly took a wheel throwing class at night.  I'm not a potter.  I have none of the skills required, although I have tried.  But, I was having a difficult year with my job, and I thought working with clay would be a form of therapy.  It most certainly was NOT!  I spent each class night in my own personal hell.  One night, I was standing by my locker, feeling frustrated and sorry for myself.  My overalls were spattered with clay, and I was angrily picking slip out of my hair.  Kathryn came around the corner, and smiled at me.  She asked me what I was doing.  When I told her that I was taking a wheel class, she laughed and said, "Oh my."  Then she said, "Well, then you had better go into the gallery and see the show that's in there right now."  Off I went.  It was a show by master handbuilder, Una Mjurka.  The entire gallery had been transformed into a feast.  There were handbuilt platters of fruit and fish.  And there were flowers, and cakes…  It was spectacular. Kathryn kept me from walking away from what I love, just by sharing with me the creative possibilities.  I stayed on in the wheel class, and struggled through.

Yesterday, at high noon, there was a memorial for Kathryn at Cabrillo.  And, I was unable to attend.  So, I sat in my classroom at noon, after the children had left for lunch.  And, I thought about the people that we encounter in life, sometimes casually.  Like a Thomas Hardy novel, there are people in our lives and we intersect, maybe even briefly.  But, each interaction is a gift.  I want to thank Kathryn for teaching me about clay, and for teaching me about intention.  I wish all of her friends, and her family a sense of peace and comfort at this difficult time.

Larger Work

Lately, I've been experimenting with creating larger vases.  Working taller involves letting the clay dry for a longer period of time.  Working larger also allows for greater freedom in decorating the surfaces.  A friend suggested that I try finishing these pieces with a white crackle glaze.  In order to pick up the texture, I'm going to try to use some oxide wash before adding the white crackle glaze.  I think I'll experiment with a test vase first!