Honest to Goodness

Sharing the Fire's second all-day workshop took place last Friday. The demonstrations and presentations were given by master potter Linda Christianson and clay artist Jil Franke. I came home with a sense of admiration for the persistence and grace in their work, coupled with a feeling of deep gratitude for being given the gift of this day.

Both women shared their stories with such openness and eloquence. Linda's thoughtful explanations and responses to our questions impressed me deeply and drew me right in. Jil's experience as a teacher was clear in her demonstrations and a benefit to all in the room. 

Handles especially fascinate me. There is such a variety to them and each offers a different value. For me they, more than the form itself, make or break the pot. As I watched Linda pound, cut, shape and press handles onto her cups, I wondered about their evolution through the years. I asked her if she would mind explaining it a little. Not only did she thoroughly demonstrate the building of her handles, but she continued to check back in with me to make sure she was satisfying my question. Rarely is one afforded this sincere consideration.

Jil's hand-built work is delicate and exact. She brought out paper templates, an exacto knife and a ruler. I appreciate the precision in her pieces and enjoyed watching how she achieves it. Like her I have always been drawn to patterns in architecture and design. I happily followed the logic of clay slabs being treated like fabric. I was brought back to my costume shop days when we custom fit clothing with countless darts. Seeing her spend significant time and attention on each step reassured me that I am not alone in my fastidious geometric endeavors.

But even more than their skilled hands, it is the words that are sitting most with me now. Linda spoke of being able to see the honesty in work. She talked about self-critique and moving on from it. She explained why she believes "we become what we pay attention to." She generally keeps her head down, she said, when it comes to current trends in the ceramic world and instead focuses on medieval pots and antique farming equipment. She enjoys seeing the effects of time on things and takes care to note seams and joints. Maybe it's a strap on an old ski, the thread of a rusty machine screw, or a tin bucket that will inspire her. She compared pottery to jazz and how it is more of an interpretation within a well-defined structure than a new composition; that we are playing the standards when we make a pot.

These two women drew analogies that spoke directly to me and gave expression to how I tend to operate that I didn't see as clearly before. Their work is so very different from each other, but to each I could relate and could find common ground.

All this, thanks to the Folk Tradition Arts grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. I am so grateful for this incredible opportunity. I look forward to the documentary and exhibition coming to the Northern Clay Center in March. Eight potters will be on display in the gallery including Richard Bresnahan, Steven Lemke, Robert Briscoe, Jason Trebs, Warren MacKenzie, Guillermo Cuellar, and of course Linda Christianson and Jil Franke too.

Plaster Molds

When it comes to clay, I compulsively fuss over it. I adjust and re-adjust until I am satisfied (or run out of time). I can easily spend hours on one piece. To any other potter, this is pure craziness. How can one make any money at all this way? Well, one can't hardly. But it is to the details and the precision that I am drawn most. Sculpting and carving are just begging to be applied to every thrown form.

The problem is, I have been commissioned to make over 40 handmade relief tiles for St. Croix Valley's Happy Gardener Tour this spring. This task would be simply insane to take on in my typical fashion. When I accepted this proposition, I knew I would need to venture into unfamiliar territory. This job would require the enlistment of pottery plaster and perhaps a canteen and compass.

I have avoided mold-making of any sorts, fearing that it would take some of the unique nature away from my work. It was a foreign matter that I felt best left to those interested in painting ceramic figurines.

But with the aid of the staff at Continental Clay and a few internet tutorials, I have taken my first steps on this new trail. Stumbling is only natural, right? My first experiment failed miserably. Even though the directions specifically said to use cold water, my left hand habitually cracked the faucet and voila - pure cement. I hastily diluted the mixture with more warm water and dumped the solidifying mess into my make-shift plastic container, covering my meticulously crafted master tile. The 20-minute curing time turned into a day and a half, whereby I accepted defeat, tossed it all out, and called in for help. A good reminder to test the water, so to speak.

I learned my lesson in following instructions. I made a sample tile and carefully measured the plaster to water ratio. I built a legitimate melamine frame. Now I was ready. I made my second master tile which is now happily nestling inside a curing framework of pottery plaster.

I have been dreaming about the possibilities of plaster in my future work. My love for sculpting can be economized with molds. I don't think of this as cheating anymore, instead I appreciate the value it can give. I am excited to watch these tiles take shape.