
Just last evening I had the opportunity to listen to an NPR snippet with Warren MacKenzie (thanks to Emily Murphy) which got me thinking about a variety of topics in no particular order...
Senior Seminar at Bethel
I vividly recall a bit of a panic attack when we were told that we'd have to find a visiting artist in our medium to present, or hang out with, the graduating class of studio art majors. I didn't really know any professional potters on a personal level and I was a pretty introverted college student. After visiting MacKenzie's studio and just sitting and yapping with him for awhile as he worked, I decided to ask him if he'd be willing to participate. He said no. Twice.
I'd been stubborn alot longer than I'd been introverted, so I ended up writing him a letter and apparently the third time was the charm... he invited my class of 10-12 students to come out to his home and talk pots. We looked at Hamada tea bowls and listened alot - to stories and to feedback on my own work (he's not a fan - I'm too tight for his tastes - completely understandable considering the ceramic lineage he is a part of and the potters that influenced him).
My only regret is that I wasn't mature enough to really soak the whole thing in to its fullest. I was more wrapped up in the fact that I 'landed' a big name as a visiting artist than the history I was being exposed to.
That fact that I flubbed that evening doesn't diminish the respect that I have for him - he represents a simpler time and a straightforward approach - pricing pieces based on what he would be willing to pay for them, not signing works because it should be about the pot, not about him, leaving the studio door open at all times, and using the honor system in the gallery - leaving an open basket of cash and checks sitting out on the counter next to the self-serve wrapping.
"Purists, Hobbyists, and Art Pots"
Which led me to another thought process surrounding the ongoing debate about what 'real' pottery is. I think my time at his place and publications that focus on earthy, functional works, have always felt me feeling, at best, defensive and, at worst, paranoid about my desire to create vessels more akin to lathe-turned wood bowls than traditional/loosely thrown stoneware.
So what is real pottery? What is good pottery? Who should I be aiming to please? According to MacKenzie's interview, good pots are essentially the ones that resonate with their maker (now, there's a point of view that'll set you free if you've got hangups about your work). If you're a potter with decent throwing skills, you know when a piece is well thrown, trimmed, and glazed - when a piece is properly balanced and feels 'right' in your hands...
Who Are You Aiming to Please
But that question about who you, the maker, should be aiming to please is an interesting one. Just yourself? individual consumers? a gallery? your mentor or instructor? How about your Creator?
What I'm slowly learning is that God places your desires on your heart and that they come to fruition when you listen and are obedient to them. That's no small sentence - when you're listening and being obedient to your maker, the work you create will please, and bring glory to, Him - your most important audience. So, at the end of the day, the opinions of consumers, gallery owners, and even your mentor(s) and instructor(s) pale in comparison to a heavenly point of view.
Like I said - a bit of a random collection of thoughts. Let's sum it up:
- Make any kind of pots you'd like
- Sign them anyway you want
- Be true to your creator
- and wear a mask in the studio if you'd like to maintain proper lung function when you're 81...
Take care. pba. (Joshua 1:9)