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Pottery Across Cultures
The approach to pottery from three different teachers, and how they me different relationships to the Earth.
January 8, 2023
Ms. Butterfly
I'm a complete amateur when it comes to pottery, but I've always enjoyed doing some hand building and wheel throwing here and there. Sometimes I'd be struck with the urge to create something quite specific, but my interest only lasts until that thing is created so my skills are not too high!
However, since I've never really formally taken any serial class, and only dabbed here and there I've been able to witness many different styles and meanings behind pottery.
I first learned hand-building with an indigenous classmate, artist and friend. It was the height of the pandemic, and she was sweet to drop off all supplies for the virtual class. She taught me how to coil and use slip to create, I made a bowl and a flower pot. In that class I was encouraged to connect with the earth, to use that connection to call my ancestors and to create with intention. It was a particularly important experience during the pandemic for me. I remember doing it on the balcony, reveling in the idea that in my isolation I had the ability to still create with the land, and be connected through my hands and creative process. The elements were highlighted in this class, the water for the slip, the fire that the clay needs to be baked in, the air to help it dry and of course the earth itself through the clay. The whole experience was very meditative and intuitive too, and I spent a lot of time smoothing the walls. With her, I found a peaceful connection to nature.
For me to have an indigenous teacher for my introductory class to pottery, frames every instance that I have with pottery, as one of intention, of spirit and of connecting with nature.
The next teacher I found was for wheel throwing, a friend, schoolmate and American artist who is now a professional potter. His approach to pottery was focused on the technique of throwing. He taught me how to massage the clay, how to slap the clay into a ball and then throw it down onto the center of the wheel, and how to center and use what tools when. He used a lot of strength, and he often would highlight the need to use force when confronting the clay. When kneading he would use his whole arm and body, and before throwing on the wheel he would throw the clay with quite some force to try and get it to catch onto the wheel. Splat! With him, the process is a bit more about willing the clay, and using one's strength so that it can become it. This was at Swarthmore.
In America I also had the experience with this friend of tending to a brick fire kiln that needed to be tended throughout the entire 48 hour period. This was at the community arts center around Swarthmore. It was hosted by potter enthusiasts. We had the 2am shift because we thought it was novel. We threw logs into slots and made sure the kiln was at a certain temperature. In my conversations, I saw how Americans enjoy the DIY nature of pottery, the fact that one can build and create out of nothing. The kiln was quite interesting, and since it was totally about the fire and the wood we put in, there were these indicators of the level of heat at these windows to help monitor the fire and the time, pictured below. The point of interest was the fact that this was interesting.
Studios in America are mostly quite messy and quite dirty, with a layer of dust and clay on every surface. The focus of American potters is the advancement of skill, the exploration of technique and the satisfaction with one's own work. I saw some of this at Black Hound Clay Studio in Philadelphia too.
Recently, I had the idea to make something based on a meditative vision I had. I was in Bangkok so I found a studio there. It was a small studio tucked away in a hidden courtyard (pictured above) in the middle of bustling Ekemmai - the Sanlitun of Bangkok, or the bar and club area. Walking inside you had to take off your shoes and you're met with a small but spacious room with the cleanest table and tile floor I've ever seen for a pottery studio. Calming water sounds was playing in the background and the clay was prepared in soft balls, much wetter than what I was used to in America. When I went ahead to slap the clay on the wheel the teacher was alarmed, he said:
"You don't need to use that force! Be gentle!"
He showed me that really to make the clay catch onto the wheel you only needed to rub it in.
"Only falangs (foreigners or specifically white people in Thai) use so much strength."
For this teacher the whole process is one that is sweet and calming. There is nothing too deep highlighted, but there is also tacit zen quality that pervades the space and experience. In his hands I found gentle steadiness, nothing about willing the clay but rather moving with the clay to find that steadiness and center. His approach is one that is practical and clean, the goal is to have the whole experience feel part of a calming one. There is still some skill that is needed, but the skill that is focused on is the basics, and finding steadiness in both the mind and body. This studio is called PCHA studio.
These seem as analogous relationships to the Earth. This may be too obvious, since literally we are working with clay, literal Earth, but these days the separation with nature has made it so that most people don't have Earth as the first thing on their mind when they think of pottery. The Indigenous friend is clearly spiritually based, whereas the American friend is clearly materially based. My Thai teacher seems to have something of a harmony between the two. I'm happy to have been able to peer into such different worlds of pottery, and hope to do more and discover what it means for me as someone who has learned from all three.
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