In the brick vase clay cup jug exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Glenn Barkley presents a novel approach to curation. Drawing on the gallery’s online collection database, his selection of artworks is a poetic convergence of randomness and intuition. The resulting exhibition offers a fresh perspective on the connections between seemingly disparate objects. Alongside this, Barkley’s recent release, “Ceramics: An Atlas of Forms,” takes us on a global journey through the history of ceramics, sharing the stories of over 100 clay objects. This interview offers a glimpse into Glenn Barkley’s creative process and explores how blending art, history, and form can tell stories that span time and cultures.

Can you walk us through the inspiration behind using the Art Gallery of New South Wales’ online database as the primary tool for curating the show?

I was approached to curate an exhibition for the Art Gallery of New South Wales in Sydney with a relatively short lead time, which led me to think of something that may have been more intuitive rather than over-intellectualised. I have worked as a curator for more than 20 years, and I have always appreciated the way that gallery storage has its own particular logic. I wanted this logic in some way to guide the ‘who’ but also to create an arbitrary way of creating content. There were, of course, some linkages I wanted to make and that I knew, but I also wanted to see what unexpected links could be made by just using almost arbitrary terms around which to shape the selection.

Were there any surprising or unexpected connections between artworks that emerged through this non-hierarchical approach to selection?

Whenever you bring a group of things together, a conversation starts to take place. This could be about the way things are shaped – from the simple similarity of rims and apertures – to the way marks are made and how that might carry from a three-dimensional surface to two-dimensional. Textures and materials also tether objects together.

I think the great strength of ceramics is its material memory – it holds history and fixes it in a way other art forms may not. There is, for instance, a series of narratives that run through the show that are entirely unintentional, such as the role ceramics have played in trade; or even the preponderance of a particular glaze, like tenmoku, and how that bounces around from the ancient past to the present. Other themes reveal the more prosaic life of ceramics as a building block, like a brick or as raw material extracted from the earth.

I think the best art of curating is bringing artworks together and see what chatter it might create when installed – chatter that may be enabled or enhanced by the space and installation.

Traditional curation often leans on historical context or artistic movements. How did it feel to move away from these conventions and to trust visual and intuitive connections?

I’ve always tried to be intuitive beyond anything else as a curator, but as both a curator and a maker, I feel my way of looking has changed and is done at the tips of my fingers. The great privilege of curating this show was being afforded the opportunity to spend time with objects in a personal way – holding, lifting, turning – and being assisted in this by the amazing curators at the Art Gallery of NSW who have deep and inspiring knowledge of these objects.

The exhibition also includes a new iteration of The Wonder Room. How did the collaboration with the communities of the Shoalhaven come about for this project, and what significance does it hold within the context of the exhibition?

The Wonder Room was created with a group of maker-collaborators based in the Shoalhaven region south of Sydney, which is the place where I grew up. The workshop was facilitated by the team at the Shoalhaven Regional Gallery in Nowra.

The work takes the form of a ‘house’ clad in over 700 terracotta tiles, each tile decorated by a person from the region responding to the idea of what makes the Shoalhaven special to them. Most of the participants are not artists or ceramicists and their responses are moving, funny and direct.

The Shoalhaven region has a long Indigenous history and the First Nations people there were some of the first to encounter the colonisers. I’m proud to say that many of the tiles in the Wonder Room were created by many First Nations groups from older to younger.

This work is one of the first instances where the Art Gallery has brought a work in from a regional gallery, as their touring programs usually takes their exhibitions to the regions. That fact alone makes it significant, but the human responses illustrated on the tiles and the sheer number of the participants have led many people for the first time visiting the galleries in Nowra and Sydney and emphasising these galleries civic and cultural roles within their communities.

How did you envision visitors navigating and experiencing the exhibition, and how did that compare to the reality once the show opened?

I always knew the exhibition, brick vase clay cup jug, would involve more work than a typical Art Gallery hang, but I think audiences always respond well to content. I think the public like seeing things. And why not? If it had been up to me, it would have been denser!

We have been quite light on text as we want people to impose their own logic to the hang. For instance, there are no labels. Rather, things are numbered in a catalogue that is accessible in brochures or through your phone. This is a daring thing for a gallery to do and I know it hasn’t been universally liked.

Do you see this method of curation – based more on serendipity and intuition rather than a fixed theme or concept – influencing future projects?

I can only speak personally, but it is a way I like to work. I appreciate the Art Gallery allowing me to work in this way. I think my role has shifted from first being just curator to now being an artist curator – an important distinction. When you add the word artist all of a sudden other possibilities open up and you can start to bend and break some orthodoxies – from display methodologies to the use of didactics.

In saying that, I also understand that some curators want to do that, but often, the expectations and responsibilities of their roles and the balancing act of public, artist, donors, and art history can weigh you down and tighten you up.

You recently released a new book, Ceramics: An Atlas of Forms, a global cultural study of the history of ceramics, sharing the stories of over 100 objects. With ceramics having such a vast history, how did you decide on the specific objects to include in the book?

My book, Ceramics: An Atlas of Forms, runs parallel to the brick vase clay cup jug exhibition and is another kind of overlay. The book explores the global history of ceramics from the perspective of Australia looking outwards, whereas most global histories tell a European pr or English-centric history shaped by colonial prejudice. For instance, my book includes artists from Australia, the Pacific and First Nations artists from Australia and elsewhere who have been mostly absent from other global histories.

It uses, not exclusively, collections from Australia and New Zealand to tell a global history and often the emphasis is on how that piece ended up here – the ethics of how and why it was collected being an important way to foreground some objects.

Similar to the curatorial approach for the exhibition, I also respond to ceramics as not just a writer but as a maker. There are large format images often showing unexpected details and I respond to things in an emotive and visceral way. I respond to works that are resolutely handmade, where the maker has left an obvious trace, and that are a record of meeting between ideas and material.

Lastly, I have unashamedly brought together a group of artworks that I respond to and that show my personality, and I think it’s important to be upfront about that.

How do you view the evolution of form in ceramics over the ages? Are there distinct patterns or shifts in the language of form that stood out to you during your research?

It’s interesting the way that the hand and eye often return to forms and shapes that to me feel like something the mind knows. Some vessel shapes exist within some deeper recess of the mind that the often feel reassuring. They are part of some deep time muscle memory.

In my own work, which is implicated in any of the work I do as writer and curator, I have an irresistible urge to make something that feels functional. Stranded between function and decoration. I think the strongest and most compelling argument for ceramics is that ambiguity is a useful conceptual and material hook to hang lots of ideas off.

Two things can be true at once, and the work I respond to fits within a band that is both narrow AND expansive that has evolved but still cleaves close to its point of origin. When you start to loosen perceptions such as ‘skill’ or even drawing the raw material of clay into the dialogue around ceramics, the forms endlessly shifting yet always, strangely centred.

How has the advancement of technology, from ancient kilns to modern firing techniques, influenced the forms that artists are making?

I think the advancement of technology is something that is always humming along in any assessment of ceramics across time. How something is made and fired is intrinsically bound up in what it means to the maker and the user.

The current moment, with the rising profile of ceramics in the contemporary art world, is unleashing possibilities in terms of ambitions and scale through the market, injecting capital into the medium. This capital, in turn, drives technology and the infrastructure of and around making. This is further amplified by the other end of the ceramic scale, the amateur maker, whose dalliance may be fleeting but needs ready access to materials and technology that is easy to use and easy to drop in and out of.

The most important thing in terms of contemporary ceramics and technology is that the importance, to some, of a ‘de-skilled’ approach shouldn’t be at the expense of more skilled and more technically driven ways of making and most importantly, teaching. There is such a clear connection between technology and art in ceramics, and it’s important that this is nurtured.

Speaking for myself, I think my technical skills in terms of firing and glazing is rudimentary, but I understand how skilled makers make it easier for someone like me to access technology, use store-bought glazes, and turn on my kiln by just pressing a button.

How do ceramics act as markers of cultural identity, especially when considering their form?

Ceramics have existed for so long and mark all aspects of our lives, from the domestic to the spiritual to the secular. Pots are used to commemorate, to hold, to use, to eat off, to smash. Most human beings have some kind of relationship to the material and ceramics can be culturally specific, deeply personal, and broadly universal. That’s why we people love making with clay, why we can talk about it forever, and why it is so compelling to think about.

brick vase clay cup jug is on view at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney, until January 2024.

Glenn Barkley is an artist, writer, curator, and gardener based in Sydney and Berry, NSW, Australia. His work operates between these interests, drawing upon ceramics’ deep history, popular songs, the garden, and conversations about art and the internet. He was previously senior curator at the Museum of Contemporary Art Australia (2008–14) and curator of the University of Wollongong Art Collection (1996–2007). Barkley is co-founder of Kilnit Experimental Ceramics Studio Glebe and Co-Director of The Curators Department, an independent curatorial agency based in Sydney. His work is part of the collections of the Art Gallery of South Australia (Adelaide), the National Gallery of Australia (Canberra), Shepparton Art Museum (Shepparton) and Artbank (Sydney).

Interview by Vasi Hirdo, Editor of Ceramics Now, October 2023

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Captions

• Installation views of ‘brick vase clay cup jug’, guest curated by Glenn Barkley at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, photo © Art Gallery of New South Wales, Diana Panuccio
• (image 1) Esther Ngala Kennedy ‘Marsupial Mouse Pot’ 1997, handcoiled terracotta, underglazes, glaze, applied decoration, 46.5 x 31 x 31 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, purchased 1997 © Esther Ngale Kennedy, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 2) China, Tang dynasty 618 – 907 ‘Ewer with double dragon handles’, stoneware partly covered with transparent lead glaze, 30.7 x 14 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, purchased 1988, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 3) Iatmul people ‘Damarau (sago storage jar)’ mid 20th century, earthenware, modelled, 78 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, purchased 1965, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 4) Roy de Maistre ‘Still life (pink dahlias)’ c1955, oil on canvas, 70.5 x 55.5 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, bequest of Mrs Winifred Iris Gay 1994 © Estate of Roy de Maistre, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 5) Tim McMonagle ‘Plaza’ 2005, oil on linen, 180 x 180 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales gift of Dakota Corporation Pty Ltd 2014, donated through the Australian Government’s Cultural Gifts Program © Tim McMonagle, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 6) Margaret Rose Preston ‘Flowers in jug’ c1929, woodcut, printed in black ink, hand coloured in gouache on thin cream laid Japanese paper, 28 x 20.5 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, purchased 1975 © Margaret Rose Preston Estate, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 7) Kirsten Coelho “The crossing’ 2019, porcelain, matt glaze, and iron oxide, 25 x 60 x 25 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Vicki Grima Ceramics Fund 2020 © Kirsten Coelho, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (images 8-9) Dean Cross ‘Untitled (self-portrait as water and clay)’ 2015 (video still), single-channel video, colour, silent, duration: 00:04:43 min; aspect ratio: 16:9, collection the artist © Dean Cross
  (image 10) Lloyd Frederic Rees ‘The road to Berry’ 1947, oil on canvas on paperboard, 34.6 x 42.2 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, purchased 1947 © A&J Rees, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 11) William Yang ‘Tea with the Deputy High Commissioner, London’ from the series ‘miscellaneous obsessions’ 2002, type C photograph, 35.5 x 53.5 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, purchased with funds provided by the Photography Collection Benefactors’ Program 2003 © William Yang, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales
  (image 12) Thanakupi ‘Mosquito corroboree’ 1994, stoneware, 32.4 x 34 cm, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Mollie Gowing Acquisition fund for Contemporary Aboriginal art 1995 © Estate of Thancoupie, image © Art Gallery of New South Wales

Can you tell us about the history of the Mediterraneo competition and how it has evolved into a prestigious event today?

The history of the Mediterranean Competition is fascinating since it has existed for over fifty years. Still, today we are “only” at the XXX edition: a long journey with pauses and an evolution always in step with the times. Very briefly:
• The 1970s allowed the city to come into contact with the ceramic “schools” of Italy and the international artistic currents of the time.
• The three editions of the eighties were brief but intense experimentation with exhibitions inserted in the ceramics district.
• The long hiatus of the 1990s ended in 2004 with the resumption and gradual broadening of the horizons of the competition, which today has the ambition to confront itself again with the international scene.

The 30th edition of Mediterraneo marked a significant milestone. How did you celebrate this special occasion, and what can visitors expect from this year’s event?

The XXX edition is characterized by significant participation, especially internationally. The total number of applications has almost doubled, but above all, those applications from all over the globe are synonymous with growing visibility. To celebrate this edition, it was also decided to start a multi-year process aimed at investigating the origins of the competition. This year, the works awarded in the editions of the seventies were selected and set up (starting from Annamaria Maggio’s master’s thesis work): not only the pieces but also the documents of the time, in which the desire for comparison is evident creative. Furthermore, two personal exhibitions were inaugurated during the exhibition period, ex aequo prize of 2022, namely “Solve et coagula” by Elena Cappai and “Provvisorio” by Studio Ortogonale. The two exhibitions are hosted in Palazzo La Sorte, an ancient private building in the historic center of Grottaglie. They present an installation that engages with the place and its specificities.

Could you share some insights into the challenges of organizing an international competition?

The main challenge lies in guaranteeing continuity for an annual event that requires precise timing and high-profile professionalism. I mean that the organization of the competition is successful only if there is a close-knit work team behind it and a straightforward operational program designed with a view to continuous improvement. Another fundamental aspect is the conscious search for a qualified and sector jury, perhaps even international, which can guarantee different but competent opinions on the subject; the choice of a jury also implies coming into contact with Italian and foreign institutions or realities that can bring an enrichment in the dialogue with the local, territorial reality.

Looking back at the previous editions, what personal highlights or memorable moments stand out for you?

The history of the competition is complex, but I can say that the 2014 edition was probably the first time in which there was a female winner (ex aequo) from outside Grottaglie, specifically Marta Palmieri, an extraordinary artist, then as now recognized all over the world. In the following years, there were also other foreign winners, such as Helene Kirchmair or Eva Pelechova, as well as young artists whose potential was recognized, such as Aurora Vantaggiato and others. On an operational level, the difficult 2020 edition, despite the pandemic, was organized by distributing the works on display in many places in the city, creating an ideal path from the Episcope Castle to the former Capuchin Convent, another exhibition and multifunctional venue. On that occasion, the personal exhibition “Ingressi contingentati” by Giorgio Di Palma, winner of the relative prize of the previous year, with frank irony and giving space to voices and a common conscience provided his vision about all the difficulties and attentions of such a particular period.

Grottaglie is often referred to as the ceramics capital of Puglia. How does this beautiful location influence the competition? Does the international competition also play a part in the local ceramics scene?

There is no doubt that Grottaglie is the reference point for ceramics in Puglia, even though there are other centers with significant traditions, such as Cutrofiano and Laterza. The peculiarity of local production is that for centuries, it has been rooted in a specific place, a ravine, originally the ancient bed of a river generated by the erosion of limestone rocks. This “ceramics district” gives life to an economy and an induced of considerable proportions, mostly linked to the everyday objects for the table and the small furnishing accessories. But in addition to an important craft activity, it should be noted the will of many creatives to create unique works and pieces, significant personalities, some of which are now historicized. Many of these have found a stimulus in testing themselves with a competition and then with a jury. The perception of the competition in the neighboring area has changed because if there have been editions in which participation was mostly local, today, the competition has a much wider audience of candidates. The challenge is more complex and, at the same time, more attractive.

How does the Mediterraneo competition differentiate itself from others, and what makes it an attractive platform for artists?

The main difference is that, despite being born in 1971 and having reached the XXX edition, the competition is still “young.” By young, we mean that its current structure results from a long journey that has been refined over the last ten years. The constant development work has led the competition to have a national and international appeal today. Today’s attraction lies in the fact that, despite its position linked to the Mediterranean world, Grottaglie can be a point of reference well beyond the European borders due to its creative vitality.

What are your aspirations and plans for the future of the Mediterraneo competition?

This year, it was announced that, with the next edition, a third prize would be established, “Artist’s Residence,” which completes the first prize “Mediterraneo,” i.e., the acquisition of the municipal heritage, and the second prize, “Personal Exhibition.” It seems to me an important bet and that the commitment made by the current administration is remarkable: an artist’s residence implies substantial burdens, but above all, the willingness of the city community to welcome an artist so that he can come into contact with the vivid local history. Working with so many passionate and competent people has been a pleasure. In these two years in office, I have been able to make some changes, which are nothing more than good practices known and seen in other similar contexts. My wish is that the direction undertaken with so much commitment in recent years will be maintained over time.

August 2023

Marco Maria Polloniato is an art historian, editor and curator.

Three decades later, we had the privilege of sitting down with Torbjørn Kvasbø to delve into the inspiration behind the workshop and his vision for creating the Centre for Ceramic Art, an innovative space where ceramics creativity and exploration knew no bounds. The workshop method implemented in Ringebu, already established in the USA, soon grew into a global movement, leading to outcomes that shaped the trajectory of ceramics not only in Norway but also worldwide.

Beyond its immediate impact, the workshop’s legacy extended far beyond its timeframe, establishing a network of artists that would continue to reap its benefits long into the future. In this interview, we explore the workshop’s role in driving the evolution of Norwegian ceramics over the years. Furthermore, we delve into the establishment of the Centre for Ceramic Art (CCA) in Ringebu, its significance in promoting ceramic art, and how the current exhibition, “Ceramics Ringebu 1993-2023,” captures the trend-setting nature of the meeting between Norwegian ceramists and international artists in 1993.

The Winter Olympics Workshop in Ringebu in 1993 marked a significant milestone for Norwegian ceramics. Can you share the inspiration behind initiating this workshop and your vision for bringing together international ceramicists and Norwegian artists?

In 1992 I took the initiative for a 1993 Winter Olympics Ceramic Workshop in Ringebu in the Gudbrandsdalen Valley, in Norway.

The workshop was part of the cultural program in advance of the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer. In the Olympic spirit, the intention was to gather some of the leading practitioners in the field. So, the funding and support from the Olympics organizers was fundamental. I got inspiration from participating in NCECA conferences and workshops in the US in the 1980s. Very important was also the Oslo International Ceramic Symposium 1990 (OICS). Two of the organizers, Professor Ole Lislerud and Professor Arne Åse, justified the American dominance by pointing out that “the USA is the leading country in ceramics…the Americans have a devil-may-care survival philosophy, they have a raw style, they get things done, are wild and crazy and, while the result is not always wonderful in artistic terms, we can learn a lot from them – we should import their vigor and go-ahead spirit.” (Kunsthåndverk no 4–5, 1990). Workshop Ringebu 1993 followed this thinking, but unlike OICS, it was based on more direct collaboration over a more extended period.

By shaking people together, an energy and power are created that become important for the individual’s further work. And in our professional environment, we learn from each other and combine it into something of our own.

The workshop method you implemented in Ringebu was already established in the US and soon became a global movement. What were some of the key outcomes or discoveries that emerged from this collaborative environment?

A master practitioner demonstrating their methods is a classic form of teaching. This method has developed almost into a kind of performance in parts of the ceramic scene in the USA. How to become good at your craft is not something you can learn from books. It must be learned through practice. It takes ten thousand hours to become a master, claims the sociologist Richard Sennett in his book The Craftsman (2008). By inviting artists who I believed set the standard for ceramics as art, together with other key international practitioners, I wanted to create an arena that would provide mutual inspiration.

The international participants were amazed at the Norwegian ceramics they saw: ‘What we found was impressive: a group of dedicated artists who were finding their own voice, achieving a standard that was international both in its quality and in its ambition,’ said the American gallery owner and collector Garth Clark, on a later occasion. The British writer Peter Dormer stated that ceramic art in Norway was characterized by an ‘anti-industry, anti-playing safe and anti-refinement’ philosophy and was therefore ‘anti-commercial.’

Among other objectives, the workshop aimed to create a network that individual artists could benefit from later. How has the workshop’s impact extended beyond its initial timeframe, and what influence has it had on the artistic practices of the participating artists and the public?

It was based on more direct collaboration over a longer period. In this kind of setting, I hoped that a network would arise that the individual artists would benefit from later. That has turned out to be true: Collaboration projects, exhibitions, and workshops are some of the results. But essential for me was also to show foreign artists what we in Norway were capable of because Norwegian ceramicists were perhaps lacking in self-confidence and ambition compared to the Americans; they had nothing to be ashamed of artistically, in my opinion.

In 2019, you established the Centre for Ceramic Art (CCA) in Ringebu as a permanent exhibition space and a center for dissemination activities. Could you elaborate on the journey of establishing the CCA and its role in promoting ceramic art?

The Center for Ceramic Arts is a newly established arena for innovative projects, artistic exchange, exhibitions and workshops in clay. The center came as a natural manifestation of my experience, network, and, eventually, professional position in the field.

Major events prior to the establishment of CCA – mentor projects by Torbjørn Kvasbø:

1993: The Winter Olympics project ‘Ceramics Ringebu 1993’, funded by the Lillehammer Olympic Organizing Committee.

Ten well-known international ceramicists were invited to work together with ten selected Norwegian ceramicists for five weeks at Ringebu Folk High School. This workshop could not have taken place without the big international ceramics symposium in 1990, Oslo International Ceramic Symposium, OICS. OICS was organized by Professor Arne Åse and Professor Ole Lislerud from the ceramics department at the Norwegian National Academy of Craft and Art Industry in Oslo. The symposium, attended by 500 members of the ceramics community from all over the world, was inspired by the annual (ceramics) NCECA conferences in the USA, a network in which Åse and Lislerud, their students, and Norwegian colleagues became active participants.

1993: The exhibition ‘Mestermøte’ (Meeting with a Master) in connection with the workshop ‘Ceramics Ringebu 1993’.

Norwegian and international contemporary ceramics were shown at the Lillehammer Art Museum in 1993 (ceramic art was exhibited for the first time in this Fine Art Museum), the Museum of Decorative Arts and Design in Oslo (1993), the National Museum of Decorative Arts in Trondheim (1995). This exhibition featured work by all 20 invited participants at the Winter Olympics workshop in 1993. Here, the participants showed selected works from their own studios that had been submitted in advance.

1996: The course ‘Bygging av store former’ (Building large forms) in Ringebu, as part of the Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts further education courses in ceramics.

The sculpture project was carried out with the help of Ringebu municipality, which generously made vacant industrial premises available.

1997: Kalmar Ceramic Workshop, Sweden

In connection with the 600th anniversary of the Kalmar Union, I was invited by Kyrre Dahl, head of culture in Kalmar municipality, to produce an outdoor on-site sculpture project involving the most prominent artists in the Nordic countries, one from each country, together with 20 students from all the art academies in the Nordic region. Gudny Magnusdottir (Iceland), Pekka Paikkari, Finland, Nina Hole, Denmark, Kennet Williamsson, Sweden, Torbjørn Kvasbø, Norway.

1999: ‘Norwegian Contemporary Ceramics’ (NCC), Amsterdam, in connection with the international Ceramics Millennium Congress, on the initiative of New York gallery owner and art historian Garth Clark.

This exhibition, which presented 30 selected Norwegian ceramicists, was supported by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts. Individuals who contributed to NCC included curator and professor Jorunn Veiteberg and the artists Hanne Heuch, Helene Kortner, Inge Pedersen, Søren Ubisch, Gunilla Åkesson and Kari Skoe Fredriksen, at gallery Arti et Amicitiae in Amsterdam, owned and operated by a visual artist organization.

2010: ‘Le Crut et le Cuit / The Raw and the Cooked’

A presentation of Norwegian contemporary ceramics / ceramicists at Galerie Favardin & de Verneuil, Paris, France, in connection with the International Academy of Ceramics (IAC) congress in Paris. The Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts and curators Jorunn Veiteberg and Heidi Bjørgan were collaborating partners. Supported by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Norwegian Association for Arts and Crafts, among others.

2011: The project ‘Raw Clay’ in Ringebu municipality

‘Raw Clay’ took place inside and outside an industrial sandblasting hall in Ringebu. The invited artists were Alexandra Engelfriet (NL), Neil Brownsword (UK), and Katrine Køster Holst (DK/NO). Film-maker Marlou van der Berge documented the project in the film ‘Raw Material,’ which premiered at Galleri Format in Oslo in 2012. ‘Raw Clay’ was based on the same model as ‘The British Ceramic Biennial,’ where, in 2009, artist Neil Brownsword led the project ‘Marl Hole’ in Stoke-on-Trent. Alexandra Engelfriet, Pekka Paikkari, and Torbjørn Kvasbø became involved in the initiative of Brownsword and made significant contributions to the project. More information on YouTube: Marl Hole

2015: The Barn Building, Ringebu municipality

In 2015, I entered into a collaboration with Ringebu municipality. It is regulated in a memorandum of understanding stating that the Byre in the Barn Building will be upgraded to suitable premises for exhibitions and storage for works of art that belong to me.

2016: Pre-project for a masterplan for the area comprising Ringebu Vicarage and Ringebu Stave Church

Ringebu municipality purchased the barn building at Ringebu Vicarage from the Norwegian Church Endowment (OVF) in 2011. In 2016, Ringebu municipality prepared together with me a pre-project for a masterplan for the area comprising Ringebu Vicarage and Ringebu Stave Church. A ceramics artist-in-residence programme was one of the main elements of the pre-project. The pre-project was carried out in 2016 with support from Oppland County Authority. The barn building at Ringebu Vicarage was to be upgraded to function as a permanent exhibition space for ceramic art and a center for dissemination activities. In addition to a 120 m2 Monumental Ceramic Studio offering a year-round artist-in-residence program, The Centre for Ceramic Art disposes of 600 m2 of exhibition space and four floors with ceramic activity.

The current exhibition, “Ceramics Ringebu 1993-2023,” reflects on the developments that have taken place in the 30 years since the Winter Olympics Workshop. How does this exhibition capture the trend-setting nature of the meeting between Norwegian ceramicists and international giants in 1993? What can visitors expect to experience through historical & contemporary artworks?

Seven of the participants from 1993 are dead (Harald Solberg, NO, Peter Voulkos, USA, Rudy Autio, USA, Chuck Wissinger, USA, Nina Hole, DK, Janet Mansfield, AU, Jim Leedy, USA). They left behind donated works they made during the weeks at Ringebu in 1993. It’s a unique collection I have taken care of, and it is being shown this summer for the first time.

What should we call ceramic work that has no practical use? That was the question Norway’s National Broadcaster, NRK, asked at the beginning of its report from the international ceramics workshop at Ringebu in 1993, which, 30 years later, is being marked by an exhibition at the Centre for Ceramic Art. The NRK story was broadcast as part of the arts programme Kulturoperatørene on 22 September 1993.

The question can be taken as an indication that things were changing in the ceramic scene in Norway. This change was about ceramicists’ self-perception, their position in relation to the arts in general, and their artistic ambitions. ‘Why are 90% of all ceramics made in a “homely size” of less than 15 kilos and measure 30 x 30 x 30 cm?’ I asked in the craft journal Kunsthåndverk in 1993. In the USA, I met ceramicists who challenged such conventional thinking. They made ceramics that were more like sculptures than utility objects and were characterized more by deconstruction than decoration. As Jim Leedy (1929–2021) told me at Ringebu, for him and his colleague Peter Voulkos (1924–2002), a jar was essentially a point of departure for creating sculpture. And, for that reason, he called himself neither a potter nor a ceramicist: ‘I call myself an artist who works in clay.’ Today, it is easy to smirk at such hair-splitting, but in the early 1990s, there was a lot of debate in Norwegian ceramic circles about what to call something that was so far from the traditional values of pottery.

The workshop in Ringebu could be criticized for being male-dominated, emphasizing large and heavy ceramics. How do you respond to this critique, and does the exhibition address and showcase the diverse range of artistic expressions within ceramics, including smaller-scale works and alternative approaches?

It’s a document of its time and wouldn’t have happened today. It reflects some of the strongest ideals I had at the time. There was a much stronger hero worship; we had role models that we aspired to. It also reflects the information we had internationally at that time, who got the most space in publications. Monumentality was, and maybe still is, masculinity-coded in art. There was, or is, also a tendency to equate scale with value. It is now as natural to recognize and value how demanding it is to convey power through work on a smaller scale. In hindsight, I understand the criticism and have no need to defend myself. It was my project, my selection based on my experience and what and who I thought was important at the time. In addition to being significant artists, several participants were active in several ways within the ceramic network, such as editors of ceramic magazines, producers of residencies, professors, and heads of ceramics departments. This was before we had the internet and social media, and access to information was different than it is now.

It was essential for me through this project to make sure that the dissemination of information was diversified through the participants and maximized. We only had what was presented through ceramic magazines and what we happened to see of these, usually at the ceramics departments at the craft schools in Oslo and Bergen since few of us could afford to subscribe to them. We rarely saw exhibition catalogs, for example.

Norwegian ceramics has undergone significant changes since the workshop in 1993, including internationalization. In what ways have these changes shaped the field, and how does the exhibition at Ringebu reflect and embody the modern trends that have emerged?

Internationalization is a keyword in that context. These changes have a lot to do with what has happened within education. In Norway, you can study ceramics at the art academies in Oslo and Bergen. Students come from all over the world, meaning a much more diverse environment. The study programs have a strong focus on interdisciplinarity and theory nowadays. They don’t read Bernhard Leach’s “A Potter’s Book” as we did in my student days, and the studio craft movement is no longer a significant reference. It is the general art world that students are informed about, and their identity is as artists more than a ceramicist or craft person. In the exhibition, you can see that the younger generations don’t use the vessel or other references from the history of ceramics but are making sculptural or conceptual works about contemporary issues of different kinds. Many art fairs and biennials have now opened for ceramics, and several Norwegian ceramicists are represented in galleries abroad. Norwegian Crafts, which started in 2012, also endeavors to strengthen Norwegian craft’s position internationally through exhibitions, publications, seminars, and visiting programs. The most significant difference is, nonetheless, the access to information and contact offered by the internet and social media. Network Society was an unknown concept in 1993, but it is now the reality we all live in.

Ceramics Ringebu 1993-2023 also explores the accessibility of ceramics as a medium, welcoming many types of artists and styles. How does the exhibition embrace the versatility of ceramics and create a space for dialogue between different artistic practices?

The starting point for the 30th-anniversary exhibition is that all participants, all ceramicists from 1993, including the student assistants, are invited to exhibit together again.

In the summer of 2023, the exhibition at Ringebu offers an opportunity to both look back and take stock of the current status. It is interesting to see what kind of ceramics the artists who took part in the intense weeks of work 30 years ago are making today, large and small works, utility objects and sculptures, visual art and craft: Ceramics has room for them all. Thirty years later, the curation done by Ingunn Svanes Almedal and I is about showing what has happened to each of them during these years. All show works from 1993 and the most recent works from the 2020s.

Development through sharing. CCA in Ringebu offers many opportunities for established practitioners and newly trained ceramicists to come together and share impulses and knowledge. The importance of my artistic network to the Centre for Ceramic Art cannot be exaggerated. With an extensive background in international collaboration, exhibitions, gatherings, conferences and workshops, my focus has been on artist-driven renewal and on developing ceramics, but also on collaboration across continents. It may sound like a correct thing to say, but a culture for sharing, hard work and perseverance really are the key to understanding how individual practitioners and the community as a whole have acquired a high level of skills and knowledge through collective processes.

The artistic infrastructure has already been built over many years of individual practice and collective networks that have matured the Centre’s activities through the facilities it offers today. One significant difference between the Centre for Ceramic Art and other large shared ceramic studios and centers it is natural to compare it with is that great emphasis is put on CCA being artist-run. It reflects many of the most essential undercurrents in ceramics in the last 50 years.

The vicarages (the houses in which vicars live, Ed.) have had a major impact on the development of Norwegian public education, agriculture and building customs. They have been, and are today, the center of power for a versatile cultural enterprise.

Knowledge and teaching were important. Through the operating income, the farms helped to finance the start of higher education in Norway. Prestegården (the Vicarage) was a place of news, impulses, and, for many, a “window to the world” outside the village. In this way, the parsonages played an absolutely central role in many local communities. The vicarages tell an essential story about the people and the village, about the region and the part of the country. The parsonages are historical, cultural carriers that must be protected through continued use.

And here we, the CCA, stand, in the middle of the most important building in our cultural landscape, in the cathedral of agriculture, the red barn.

The exhibition rooms, Trevet and Kjøringa, are traditional Norwegian barn architecture with a completely open wooden beam construction, where all building elements have either a load-bearing or a supported function. This places great demands on the installation of the exhibition, where it is important to cooperate with the rooms as much as possible. There is a close and organic interplay between the architecture and the objects on display, where the space and architecture are utilized for all it is worth. This is a space where the white plinth, visual art’s traditional and alienating way of emphasizing itself and creating distance, does not work at all.

Thus, the diversity is self-evident.

A special thanks to the group around CCA, and this exhibition, Ingunn Svanes Almedal, Kari Sund, Nina Standerholen, Brage Kvasbø, Trude Westby Nordmark, and Marita Eri Mo.

Torbjørn Kvasbø, July 2023

Visit the Centre for Ceramic Art (CCA)’s website and Instagram page.

Visit Torbjørn Kvasbø’s website.

Interview by Vasi Hirdo, publisher & editor of Ceramics Now

Photos by Thomas Tveter

Interview with Lauren Kearns, the founder of IaRex l’Atelier, a ceramics studio and residency program

Lauren Kearns is a ceramic artist and teacher who boldly decided to relocate to the scenic south of France in 2018, where she opened a ceramics studio and residency program. Named IaRex l’Atelier: International Artists Residency Exchange, this creative space welcomes individuals who want to work independently, take private lessons, participate in workshops, or have a pause in travels and simply create in a beautiful environment. In this interview, Kearns takes us on a journey through her inspiring path in the world of ceramics.

Can you tell us about the origins of your residency program? When and why did you decide to start it?

I attended a residency program here in southern France and fell in love with the area. I had been teaching at numerous places where I lived in Colorado. When I came to France, I thought I might like living here, so I received a visa, rented my house, and within three months of being in the area, had the idea to start a flexible residency program with artists or novices who could come and choose the amount of time they wished to stay while having a place to create. Accommodations could be individually arranged depending on budget and degree of comfort. I wanted to contribute, continue to teach, offer what I have learned, and help students.

What are the main characteristics and unique aspects of your flexible residency program?

The studio is centrally located in the center ville and has all sorts of amenities that make living easy. It is very well equipped, and I provide any trips to the stores to purchase any other materials people may need. Clay is stocked at the studio, as well as underglazes and glaze. The central concept is for artists to have an immersion experience. They are not isolated. The train and bus station are centrally located within walking distance from the studio so that artists can easily travel all over the area. The center is located on the Mediterranean Sea, so for outdoor lovers, there are beaches (kayaking, paddle boarding, sailing) and small mountains (by Colorado standards) for hiking and mountain biking.

Who is your residency program primarily designed for? Do you have any feedback from previous participants?

There are programs for all levels. Professional artists can use the time to create and explore. I offer private lessons to all levels, having taught ceramics for over 35 years. I wanted the studio to be where people could meet and make friends from other countries and cultures.

The feedback has been super positive. People think it is beautiful, with lots of light and air, and they are happy with the equipment and the ease of exploration/travel. Everyone has been thrilled with the private lessons that address tips on improving their skill level, as well as the workshops.

Please walk us through the selection process for artists interested in joining your residency program. What criteria do you consider while choosing participants?

I require a CV, a brief (3-5 sentences) letter of intent, images, or a website. I need to know who they are, their interests and background, and their current work and level. This way, I can be of the best assistance to the artist. If they are a beginner? No problem. I suggest a course study or a lesson to help them start their exploration of ceramics. The letter of intent is required to determine if they are clear about what they wish to do/accomplish during their stay. Granted, the intention can change, but the statement provides me with clarity of thought about how I can help and their background.

As an artist and the founder of this residency program, what valuable insights have you gained from embarking on this journey? How has it impacted your own artistic practice?

As you might know, I started the program before covid and had to shut it down. It started very well. Covid has changed everything because the clientele has to travel to get here, and travel is more challenging now. People seem to be accustomed to learning online, and many of the private lessons I have done are for people who have learned online and have not had anyone ‘hold their hand” to help them with the wheel, for example. The workshops have been fantastic when they happen, as I require a minimum of students because I have to pay for the artists teaching fees, airfare, accommodations, and materials. I was an executive director of a ceramic center and know that people don’t like to be ‘nickeled and dime”, so I offer an all-inclusive workshop package with no hidden or extra fees. In my program description, all prices are stated in the beginning; no surprises, which people appreciate. If the teaching workshop artists want to include lunches, I cook the lunches, and people love the food.

As the studio’s creator, I have seen friendships formed, learning, skills and creativity develop, and experience gained from living in another culture for a period of time. The area is safe and friendly. It is not a large intimidating city, nor being isolated in the country. People have time to enjoy the amenities that are accessible. Primarily I am available to help people have a good and positive experience. I do not have enough time for my own work because I am busy promoting the studio. It is ok, there is a time in life for everything, and this is my focus now.

What types of workshops do you plan for this year? How do these workshops contribute to the overall experience of the residents?

Teachers are always welcome to bring their own group to the studio for an immersion experience. One comes to another country not just to work in a studio but to be inspired by their surroundings. I often refer to this, as my own work is inspired by it, as seeds of ideas that one gathers and then takes home to their individual studios to develop and grow. If there is a resident artist during a workshop, they have the pleasure of making friends and participating in external events. For 2023, I have Kirsten Stingle this fall. For 2024, Sue Tirrell, Martha Grover, Jan Edwards, and Natasha Dikavera.

Do you facilitate interaction and collaboration among the artists during their residency?

I facilitate exploration of the area, offer’ field trips’ so to speak, and help people in all ways to enjoy all that the south of France has to offer. I have a list of excursions (near to far) for everyone. The studio is either quiet or full of people talking, exchanging ideas, life stories, and making connections. Artists tend to be very respectful of one another’s work practices.

Looking ahead, what are your goals for the residency program?

I would like this to be a busy program, one for artists and teachers who love to teach, and eventually open a gallery in the center of Saint-Raphaël to exhibit artists’ work.

Find more information about the residency here.

June 12, 2023

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Can you tell us the story behind the founding of the gallery?

The gallery was founded by me and my wife Emma and was the realisation of a project we had both wanted to fulfil for many years. Whilst for Emma, it was a continuation of her career; she trained in Fine Art, worked in public and private galleries and was head of a large corporate art collection; for me, it was a change of direction. While my private passion was enjoying and buying art, my previous career was in corporate consultancy.

We aimed to establish a gallery that had a very determined focus on representing ceramic as an art form and curating its presence alongside paintings and sculpture. To elevate its rightful status if you like. We began representing many of the artists we had collected over 20 years which was a delight. Going from collector to dealer was a wonderful transition, and it allowed us to be very honest and true about how we represented the artists.

A few years after founding the gallery, you embarked on a new journey to represent a fantastic selection of Japanese ceramic artists. Why did you start specializing in contemporary Japanese ceramics?

About two years in, we discussed the idea of showing some contemporary Japanese work. It had been a personal interest of mine, along with all things Japanese, but we really needed to learn how much interest there was in such work in the UK.

Being a keen student of Japanese traditions, I wanted to expose the breadth of work that was emerging from the kilns across Japan. A big challenge but one we were excited about, one which has enabled us to stage some genuinely amazing shows over the last five years. Along that journey, we have shared our passion for Japanese work with thousands of people and been the instigators of new collections for people new to Japanese ceramics. This is what drives us, seeing the lightbulb go on over a client’s head when a rustic, organic, raw piece of Iga Yaki suddenly comes into view as beautiful to them.

How many Japanese ceramic artists do you represent?

Gosh, lots! We represent around 50 Japanese artists, and that continues to grow. We enjoy the ambition of wide representation, the challenges it brings, and the opportunities it gives us. In our last exhibition, “Treasures of Japan II’, we exhibited 23 contemporary artists with nearly 300 pieces of varied and contrasting work. I enjoy people being overwhelmed by the scope of Japanese ceramics today, but I am always on hand to help them navigate a path through what they see!

We have had the pleasure of representing senior artists such as Yamada Kazu and Tanimoto Kei, mid-career artists such as Ichikawa Toru and Inayoshi Osamu, female front runners such as Takahashi Nami and Takemura Yuri, and emerging talents such as Ujiie Kodai. Crossing the seniority spectrum is crucial to us; it enables more people to collect, satisfies established collectors, and enhances the career of younger makers we represent outside of Japan.

You sometimes show Japanese artists that have never exhibited in the UK. What are the challenges of organizing these exhibitions?

I would say the majority of makers we have shown have debuted in the UK by us, and for many, it has been their debut outside of Japan. It is always a pleasure to do it, to display our faith in a maker’s work to the extent that we are prepared to invest in the significant task of organising a collection of their work here. Whilst it’s a complex and expensive task, it always feels worth it once the work is here and our clients are adding it to their collections. The language barrier is an obvious added complexity. Still, I continue to learn to speak, read and write in Japanese and have always been respectful of cultural differences, which I also enjoy learning about.

How do you find new artists? What qualities are essential to you when looking for artists to represent?

I find this difficult to answer. I can’t be definitive, as Japanese ceramics is a daily thought process and conversation in my head. When you have dozens of traditions stretching back centuries, and in some cases millennia, you have subject matter that could easily consume several lifetimes of study. I am always looking and learning. I am aware that my lifetime is limited, and there is so much still to learn and discover, so I naturally come across makers in pursuit of extending my knowledge. I won’t lie; it’s a wonderful job!

You organized dozens of exhibitions over the last few years. Can you share some highlights with us?

Being a gallery that still values putting on exhibitions is central to our ethos and will continue to be. It is an opportunity to be creative with mixed shows and strategic to an artist’s career with solo exhibitions.

Mixed exhibitions allow us to create thoughtful angles into a show such as ‘Generations – Father & Son’ in 2021, which allowed our clients to investigate similarities and divergences between the work of the father versus the work of the son within the same tradition. ‘Kodai Ujiie – Japanese Vanguard’ in July 2022 provided Ujiie san with his first solo show outside of Japan, which was a rapid sellout and has helped his career both at home and internationally. Both these shows were natural highlights for us. Still, an honourable mention must go to our sake ware show in 2019, where we had an extended Nihonshu workshop and tasting before the opening – that was a very merry affair for all in attendance!

Earlier this year, you released your new website, where visitors can buy artwork online. How are online art sales compared to traditional ones? What else has changed since your first show in 2016?

You’re right; we updated our site in early 2022 to improve our customers’ online experience. Again this is important to us as we have clients all over the world. There are large communities of collectors in the USA and Europe, and they tell us they like how we make it easy to learn about and purchase works. We even have clients in Japan!

But nothing beats being in front of a piece of ceramic that you can hold and investigate in person. That is why we have an entire gallery floor dedicated to a permanent collection of imported works from Japan, in addition to our exhibition schedule. On this floor, we display collections of work from a superb array of makers all year round—collections I personally choose from firings and purchase directly from the artist. It means there is always a new treasure to be found, no matter how many times someone visits. But for those unable to visit – I’m glad technology allows us to share what we have and why we love it.

What events are you planning for 2023 and beyond?

I’m currently planning shows into 2025, and it won’t be long until I turn my attention to 2026, but 2023 has some fantastic shows to be excited about. In February, we give Yamaguchi Makoto his first solo show in the UK, in the summer, we will be staging Muta Yoca’s first international solo, and in November, we are beyond proud to be staging a solo for Higashida Shigemasa.

I have also planned debuts and re-introductions of makers scheduled throughout the year on a smaller scale, so there are lots to be excited about and many more phone calls with customs agents to have! I’ll also be spending the first few weeks of January 2023 in Japan on artist visits; no doubt that will spark more ideas for shows yet unthought of!

The Stratford Gallery is based in Broadway, Worcestershire, United Kingdom. Contact information: +44 (0)1386 335 229, art@thestratfordgallery.co.uk

Ceramics Now • December 2022

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First, I want to congratulate you for curating such a beautiful show. What sparked the idea for Handle with Care?

As a curator, one always has a bucket list of subjects on which one would like to develop an exhibition. I have always wanted to do a show on either the hand or the foot. I chose the hand after a scan of our permanent collection of over 45000 works. Hands are the key tool for making ceramics, and they are capable of communicating on so many levels, both intimate and public – through caresses, gestures, and signs. Hands also serve in many metaphors – for ‘handling’ things that come our way!

The exhibition includes a variety of works, from archaeological finds to recent acquisitions of contemporary artworks. Can you explain the show’s theme?

Princessehof has an incredible collection of ceramics from Asia (primarily Chinese), Europe, the Middle and Near East and South America. Our sister museums, the Fries Museum and Resistance Museum, also have collections of ceramics. As my first major exhibition for the Princessehof, it was an opportunity to become (superficially) acquainted with these collections. Historical and contemporary works and installations from all three collections were placed in dialogue with new acquisitions and loans from contemporary artists.

Are all the works in Handle with Care made by hand? Does the exhibition’s theme allude to the ever-expanding use of technology to create art?

Yes, in your question, I sense the commonly held perception that works produced by new technologies exclude the hand. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth!

Many traditionalists love the manual aspect of creating ceramics and are resistant to tools that involve more screen time and less hand time! However, the use of new tools, such as 3-D printers, does not exclude or reduce the importance of the hand. Anyone who has used these tools knows they are very laborious and require permanent observation and lots of manual input!

In recognition of this space of contention within the ceramics world, I included an installation of a manual 3D printer by Dutch designer Daniel de Bruyn. The work is powered by manually winding up a rotary mechanism and requires lots of handling with care!

Do you think contemporary ceramics is handled and cared for differently than other media?

Within a museum context, contemporary ceramic requires a moderate amount of care! Obviously, ceramics are relatively fragile when compared to, say, a bronze sculpture, but they have many other wonderful qualities! They will endure for at least 30 000 years and not degrade like many modern materials, including plastics. They don’t require special maintenance like many metals that oxidize, tarnish and corrode. And, in a period where everyone is watching energy bills in museums, ceramics do not require climate control for storage or display, unlike works on paper, items made of organic materials or fiber, etc.

Handle with Care includes work by artists from countries not necessarily associated with contemporary ceramics, such as Nigeria, Surinam, Peru, or Dagestan (Russia). How did you make the selection?

Handle with Care includes both historical and contemporary works from across the globe. Ceramics are found in most cultures and epochs. As an art medium, it truly celebrates cultural diversity. One of the aims of the exhibition is to highlight the fact that ceramics is a practice that forms a part of our collective DNA. It is possibly the most global of all art forms.

The show’s opening featured a performance by Neha Kudchadkar, whose work, Handjob, is also part of the show. Can you tell us more about her performance?

Neha wrote the following about her performance. ‘How does one accept self-care and find moments of intimacy with oneself when the mind is numb and stifled with the happenings of the world? A bullet through a sister, the release of rapists, the hacking of the earth, the swallowing of the ocean, drowning of children. Could the greatest act of resistance be to be myself? To nurture, serve, decorate and love my being for being? Using the thumri as a starting point, I claim my ground and be.’ Using poetry, song, and dance, Neha’s performance explored self-care as expressed through the ritual of self-adornment.

What are the highlights of Handle with Care? How should visitors read and experience the show?

While each visitor will have their own personal reading or experience, I hope that the visitor is amazed and awe-struck by the design of the exhibition and the quality of the works! I also hope visitors feel respected and handled with care!

An important but relatively discreet development in this exhibition is formulating a new format for the labels that describe exhibits. We blended templates traditionally used to describe the two types of art found in this museum, namely ‘heritage’ objects, and fine art. The new labels acknowledge the numerous unknown makers of works from distant times and lands.

Like most museums in Europe, the majority of the objects in our collection were collected in the context of colonial and neo-colonial projects, a period when due diligence about provenance was not a priority. Having my roots in South Africa, I can attest to the widespread practice of collectors, who chose not to record the name of an artist as a way of controlling the market. It means others cannot collect or research similar works, and the maker cannot sell to other collectors. An acknowledgment of this history of unequal relationships is reflected in the use of the term ‘unidentified artist’ instead of ‘anonymous’ or ‘unknown’ artist.

Handle with Care is on view at the Princessehof National Museum of Ceramics, Leeuwarden, until October 20, 2023.

Ceramics Now • December 2022

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Irit Ovadia Rosenberg would be the first to tell you that she never imagined establishing a ceramic practice amongst the towering pines of New York State’s Catskills mountains, far from the madding crowd of her native New York City. Nestled between the conifers and surrounded by wild fern, her studio barn and cottage gallery provide a serene backdrop that lend her substantive, tactile assemblages an even greater sense of expanded space and time.

In her latest assemblage series, the artist hangs draped ceramic forms alongside the brutalist, rusted remains of farm machinery from bygone days, creating an uneasy yet harmonious co-existence. I sat down with Irit to discuss the nature and evolution of these unique groupings.

Let’s start with your ceramic oeuvre. Both your functional and sculptural forms have always been defined by a conscious desire to show the creator’s hand and celebrate the imperfect – you embrace the cracks, the runny glazes and even the warping!

I’ve always enjoyed bending the rules and seeing how far I can go in manipulating the clay. That’s probably why I prefer hand building to wheel throwing. I love the infinite possibilities of a freshly rolled slab. I get so much enjoyment texturizing and printing on slabs even before shaping them into a form. I think the lack of formal training allowed me to experiment with clay from the very beginning. I sort of fell into ceramics while I was teaching art at the American School in Israel. The school wanted to offer a clay elective and aside from some rudimentary training, I learned about clay as I went along. The purist, pristine aesthetic never appealed to me. Some of my failed experiments were my favorite pieces!

You have accumulated decades worth of experimental ceramic fragments as well as components from past series and exhibitions. What inspired you to re-purpose these items and combine them with pieces from your ever-expanding collection of rusted metal and weathered wood artifacts?

Those ceramic pieces still hold meaning for me – they were created with my own hands. They represent a point along the continuum of my ceramic education. I find many of them beautiful and want to give them a new home, a new lease on life, if you will. It’s like sending your kid out into the world again! I enjoy the symbolic transformation of a solitary, random object when it becomes part of a bigger picture. Similarly, I’m drawn to old scavenged and found objects because of their history. They are also deserving of a second chance. Aesthetically, the build up of rust and texture on these corroded objects are reminiscent of the iron oxide and iron glazes I am fond of using. I like the fact that even though my hand built ceramic pieces are vulnerable to breakage, the clay fragments may well last longer than the machinery-produced elements. The rusted artifacts scream ‘Don’t touch’ whereas the smooth surfaces of my draped ceramics are an invitation to caress. There’s a dialogue that develops between the discordant elements – sometimes it’s loud and sometimes it’s quiet.

What is the origin and significance of your draped forms? Is there a story behind them?

Years ago, I was visiting a museum in New York and I was struck by the expressive folds of the garments on the Greek and Roman sculptures. Fabric is an integral part of human civilization and plays a significant role in all aspects of our lives – from the soft fabric you swaddle a baby in, to the sheet that one is buried in according to Jewish tradition. But creating a facsimile of draped fabric out of clay is extremely challenging. I usually start out with texturizing or silkscreen printing on a slab before carefully forming the folds and letting the piece dry very, very slowly. During the firing (cone 10), the piece has to lie flat in the kiln so unfortunately I often lose the fullness of the folds and they develop cracks as they sag. Even allowing for imperfections, my breakage rate for these draped forms is about sixty percent!

Walk me through your assemblage process – do you begin with one foundational piece that sets the tone for each assemblage? How do you know when they are complete?

I’ve loved the art of assemblage ever since being introduced to Picasso’s early assemblages. Jasper Johns is also a great inspiration. I usually start from the top down with the horizontal element that will support the hanging components. I get excited when I find a piece that is full of character and interesting detail. I hang it on a blank wall of my gallery and then I start picking through my collection of ceramic works and metal or wooden objects. I customize the hanging hardware either out of old chain or twisted wires. It’s a very physical process and one that is painstakingly slow. I arrange and re-arrange constantly – I can very much relate to Oscar Wilde’s famous quote: “I spent all morning taking out a comma and all afternoon putting it back!” I get a distinct feeling in my gut when the piece comes together in a harmonious composition. Like the pieces of a puzzle. It’s a great feeling but I might come back to it weeks later and start substituting or adding elements. I consider these assemblages as works in progress.

Could you see creating these assemblages without ceramics?

I can’t imagine not using some element made of clay in my work. Clay is such a remarkable material. Working with clay engages the four elements of matter: Earth, Water, Air and Fire. The ceramic pieces play off the found objects in terms of material, texture, history and design.

How has moving out of the city to the country impacted your work?

It was a difficult transition. When I lived in New York City I had access to some of the most innovative art being produced. I worried at first about what I was missing out on but now I appreciate the quiet and serenity of the Catskills and its history as an agricultural community. I source almost all of my found objects from this area. I think my love of forgotten and abandoned farm implements stems from my time in Israel, a country so ancient that you need only scratch the dirt to find a two-thousand-year-old shard of pottery!

What do you want the viewer to take away from these mixed media assemblages? Do you have a message?

I don’t create my assemblages with a particular concept in mind. I am more focused on the relationship between the disparate elements and creating a balanced harmony. I create them primarily for myself and when they’re ready to be seen, they can act as repositories for any number of meanings. Aside from wanting my viewers to appreciate the tactile and visual nature of the works, I urge them to question and to find their own narrative. I love that art is open for interpretation.

Irit Rosenberg

Irit Ovadia Rosenberg was born in Israel and raised in the US. She studied at Jerusalem’s Bezalel School of Art and Design and earned her undergraduate degrees in art from New York’s School of Visual Art and Hunter College. She taught Art and Ceramics at the American International School from 1994 to 2014. She currently lives in upstate New York with her husband.

When living and working in Israel she was inspired to explore the controversial issue of fences, walls and borders. It was then that she began incorporating found objects and corroded metal fragments. Her mixed media works form a sculpture of many voices. She draws inspiration from clay, its versatility, its texture and its amazing transformations.

Visit Irit Rosenberg’s website and Instagram page.

Lilianne Milgrom

Lilianne Milgrom is a multimedia artist, ceramicist and published author. Her articles have appeared in Ceramics Now, Ceramics Monthly and Ceramics Art and Perception.

You can see Lilianne’s artwork on her website or Instagram page and find out more about her writing here.

Photo captions

• Boxed woman, High Fired Stoneware, silkscreen, found materials, 21x15x3
• Korea, High Fired Stoneware, silkscreened, found materials, 11x6x5
• Mapped Fence, High Fired Stoneware, silkscreened, found materials, 22x22x3
• Mother and Son, High Fired Stoneware, silkscreen, found objects, 20x17x
• Platter, High fired stoneware, silkscreen, 24
• Woman Alone, High Fired Stoneware, silkscreen, found objects, 24x22x3

This interview is about Mary’s latest book, My Life as a Potter, and about her Legacy Project.

Part memoir, part coming-of-age story and part handbook for ceramicists, this full-colour coffee table book celebrates the art of one of Canada’s finest potters, Mary Fox. My Life as a Potter, a gorgeous full-colour coffee table book, recounts Mary Fox’s long journey to the peak of her craft and expresses the passion she feels for her work and the joy she has found in living the life of a studio potter.

A potter since the early 1970s, Fox is recognized for creating exquisite forms and distinctive textured glazes. She has shown her works internationally and at galleries across Canada. In this book she shares her plans to leave behind a legacy of support and mentorship for young artists, in the form of an artist-in-residence program steered by the Mary Fox Legacy Project Society. Royalties from this book will benefit the project.

Readers with an interest in the technical aspect of Fox’s work will especially appreciate the richly illustrated chapters on technique and artistic process. This book is for anyone who has ever been curious about the life of a professional potter, anyone hoping to become a potter themselves and anyone who believes that art has the power to guide us through life’s myriad challenges and hardships.

About the Legacy Project

Shortly before she passed away, Mary Fox’s partner, Heather Vaughan, planted an idea by asking the question, “what would have made things easier for you?”

Vaughan was touching on the idea of how to help young potters who are starting out. Fox knew the answer was to provide a place for artists to create—a place to live with a studio and a display room for selling the work.

Fox has created the Legacy Project—an artist residency that will operate out of her home and studio after she passes away. She hopes that it will offer the opportunity to young, emerging ceramic artists to develop their skills and live the life of a studio potter with financial support. Selected artists in residence will have full access to the house and studio—complete with equipment such as the Blaauw kiln and a pugmill—and the opportunity to sell the work they produce through the gallery. By the end of their residencies, they should know whether they are destined for a career as a studio potter. Hopefully, time spent at Mary Fox Pottery will enable emerging artists to save some money toward starting their own studios.

The program will offer a two-year residency with the option to extend for a third year. The Mary Fox Legacy Project Society will be responsible for maintaining the building, grounds, equipment, taxes and insurance. In addition, the society will appoint a guardian to monitor the pottery and ensure that the resident artists are living up to their obligations. Resident artists will be responsible for their own supplies, utility costs and ensuring that the pottery is open to the public. They will be expected to maintain the gallery, creation room and living space in good condition.

Click here for more information, including details on how to support the Legacy Project.

Interview with Mary Fox

How did you decide to become a potter?

It was 1973. I was starting grade eight at Central Junior High in Victoria, BC, and ceramics was the only elective that had any space. It was literally love at first touch. I had never been good at drawing, but with clay that didn’t matter, as my hands could make what I couldn’t draw. For the first time in my life I felt there was something I might be good at, and I loved it.

In 1989, you and your partner both developed myalgic encephalomyelitis (me) and you were forced to take five years away from your work. What was it like for you to come back? How did living with a disability change the way you looked at your craft?

Although I had been working at my craft for sixteen years when I became ill and had to stop, at that point I was still growing into myself as an artist, unsure about my style and looking outside myself for inspiration. When I started to work again, it was as if there had been no break in my creative path. I hadn’t been thinking about my work for all those years—that would have been too depressing—and yet, it was as if no time had gone by. Creatively, I picked up where I had left off, and I still find this amazing. It was as if I had been walking along a forest path, sat down for a moment’s rest, then got up and continued on my way.

But the experiences of the last five years had changed me. My approach to my life and work was fundamentally different, though in a good way. From this point on I resolved to produce only work that I felt deeply connected to. That meant that my approach to functional work needed to shift. I had continued doing brushwork on my functional work until I stopped working in ’89. Now I decided to drop the brushwork and go back to what I had liked as a young potter—solid colours that accentuated the form of the piece. I would no longer compromise my work over concerns about how well it would sell. Being able to return to my craft was a huge gift, and I wasn’t going to squander one moment of it. Immediately my energy began to change and creating functional ware became a joy again.

You say in the dedication that your partner Heather Vaughan’s love and unwavering support helped you grow into the person you are today. What role did she play in the conceptualization of the Legacy Project, in particular?

During Heather’s final weeks, I lugged one of my sculptures into the care home for her to see. I’ll never forget that evening. I got her transferred from her bed to an easy chair, then went and found a bed table on wheels to put the sculpture on. She ran her hands over the leather hard piece, exclaiming about its sensuous feel and flowing lines. It was an intimate moment of beauty, a sweet break from the reality of life.

I wanted to get her mind away from all the suffering, so instead of changing the subject when she started talking about her care needs, I suggested we talk about creativity and living the life of an artist for the first part of our visit, and then if she needed, we could talk about whatever else was on her mind. As we chatted, one of the subjects that came up was the difficulty inherent in a young artist’s life, and she wondered aloud what would have made life easier for me as a young artist. The main challenge for me had always been finding a place to live where I could also have a studio and a display room for selling my work. We also talked about how limiting my present studio was, especially now that I was starting to sculpt again. Our house was on a half-lot, so there was no room to expand out. That’s when the idea came to me of lifting the house to get more space. If I did that, I would be able to add eighty-five square metres, which would provide plenty of room for a studio and gallery. Heather thought this was a fantastic idea. My greatest supporter was leaving me, but before she did, we shared a vision of what my home and studio could become.

When she asked me “What would have made things easier for you?” her question planted another seed, as well, because we had touched on the idea of how to help young potters starting out. As a result, I began to think of a new studio/gallery not just as a space for me, but as a residency for potters when my time on this earth is over. This was the beginning of the Legacy Project.

What advice would you give to potters who are starting out in their careers?

There are so many things I wish I had known as a baby potter. At the top of that list would be understanding the toll that repetitive work takes on the body. Over the years I have had problems with my back, wrists and arms, though overall my body has held up fairly well considering how many tons of clay my hands have pulled up.

This is a very physical job, and for the beginning potter I cannot stress enough the importance of good body mechanics. Having a good physiotherapist can make a huge difference. I don’t think I would be in nearly as good condition had I not done regular body work over the years and heeded the advice of my physio on how to improve my work habits.

Another piece of advice has to do with sales. Most potters don’t exactly light up when the topic of selling arises. Let’s face it, most of us are artists first, and selling our work is not a favourite pastime. Who wouldn’t prefer to spend time at the wheel rather than pricing, invoicing and shipping? But, after the creation of the work, this is the most important part of our job.

What have been some of the things that have kept you going during challenging times in your career?

There are certain threads throughout my life that haven’t changed much, the main one being my constant quest for beauty. Beauty, in all its forms, has shaped my life. It has influenced every nook and cranny of my work, personal relationships, gardens, home, food, everything. If you asked me the greatest lesson I have learned over the years, it would be that beauty is everywhere in our lives; we just need to see it. Even in our darkest times it is there holding out a branch to us.

Everyone’s life has challenges, and mine has been no exception. How we approach those challenges, how we see them, the choices we make to resolve them—this is what sets people apart. I chose the life of a potter at an early age, and though it was a struggle to learn my craft and earn a living, I always felt that no matter what hardships I faced, this was the right fit for me. I didn’t mind if I had to live frugally at first because my day to day happiness has always been most important to me. I was driven by my need to create beautiful vessels to enrich and inspire, and in doing so, beauty has permeated my life, spreading through it like a lovely vine, shaping and influencing not just my creations but everything about how I live.

In what ways does being a potter differ from working in other creative disciplines?

In most other creative fields, artists spend weeks or months working on a single piece until it is done. They experience the emotional ups and downs that come while creating that piece and then the flood of feelings that comes when they step back and behold the finished work. Potters spend weeks creating several pieces simultaneously, and then they are all finished together in one firing.

When a firing is completed, I take a dozen or more finished pieces out of the kiln at once. Each one packs an emotional wallop. I find it can be almost too much as I become overwhelmed by the beauty of one piece after another. It’s a good problem to have, but it can be intense. I am often so overcome unloading the kiln that I have to pause and go for a short walk or sit in the garden until I can bring myself back down to earth. I have never done hard drugs, but I wonder if the high one experiences is similar? The feelings of euphoria racing through my body can be extreme and take their own kind of toll. This is not something I ever imagined having to find ways to deal with. Who needs to find ways to manage their happiness?

Do you have a favourite form?

The chalice is one of my favourite forms to throw and I have created many interpretations over the years. All my chalices are designed to enhance and inspire everyday life with their beauty and to invite contemplation and reflection.

How does function enter into your work?

Though I could make my living solely from my decorative works, I can’t imagine a day when I would stop creating functional wares. To me, there is nothing more satisfying than eating and drinking from beautiful, handcrafted vessels. When creating my tableware dishes, I derive great pleasure from knowing that, through the subtle intimacy that grows from their everyday use, these pieces will become treasures in other people’s lives.

Sections of this book can be used as a handbook for potters—and you even give away your secrets about how you achieve the glazes you are so well-know for. How important have the technical aspects of pottery been in your career?

If you had told me years ago that I would be writing a technical section for a book, I would have dismissed it as a ridiculous notion! I have only the most basic understanding when it comes to glazes and kilns. It’s not that I haven’t studied enough. I have read and re read many books on glazes and firing over the years, but for whatever reason I don’t seem to retain much of it. I have come to accept my cognitive limitations and keep plugging on, trusting that eventually I will get there. I am a visual and intuitive learner, and I suspect there are many people like me who give up on learning the more technical aspects of pottery because they find it too difficult. I hope that if you are one of these types, I will inspire you to keep at it. Consider adopting my motto: “It’s okay to make mistakes while learning, and we are always learning.”

Interview by Harbour Publishing

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Hi Laura! Could you give us an overview of your current activities at Officine Saffi?

Officine Saffi has always been a container of different projects, all aimed at the promotion and enhancement of contemporary ceramics. The Gallery comes with a very dense program of real and virtual exhibitions. We have recently opened the solo show of Paolo Gonzato, a very articulated project; his works were created in our workshop. The workshop is in constant activity, despite the limitations imposed by the coronavirus. Soon we will be holding two masterclasses that want to explore the intersections between ceramic and glass with two exceptional artists: Attua Aparicio and Silvia Levenson. Our contest has reached its fourth edition and we are receiving many entries from all over the world. We have managed to put together more awards than ever, which, in a period like this, can be of great importance to artists. In addition to all this, we work with great design companies for several shootings and we are developing the production of our own design line, which is to be presented next year.

How did the project start? Tell us more about the history of Officine Saffi and its Award.

Officine Saffi was born from my passion for ceramics, and to fill some kind of shortcomings: Italy is a land of great ceramic tradition, yet, before the birth of Officine Saffi, there was no structured project that promoted the use of this material. The factories struggled to survive, the artists did not know where to get the support to produce their works, and foreign artists did not have a gallery that could showcase their works in Italy. Officine Saffi wanted to fill these and many other gaps. In the beginning, it was not easy to establish ourselves in the system, but I believe that in 9 years we have managed to reach a substantial grade of development. I feel dizzy when I think of all the projects we managed to put together. The contest is one of the projects I care about the most. It was born two years after our activities started, intending to explore the universe of artists. To do so, I decided to put together a jury of experts to help me with the selection of the finalists. So, I created a small international team composed of museum directors, curators, journalists, and artists who played a fundamental role in the success of the award. Now we have got to the fourth edition and the jury has evolved a lot. We have an exceptional Commission of Experts, composed of leading figures such as Garth Clark, Glenn Adamson, Matt Wedel, Jill Singer and Monica Khemsurov, Isabelle Naef Galuba, Annalisa Rosso, Elisa Ossino, and myself who will carefully examine all the applications and select the finalists. As for the jury, since this year traveling is very limited, we have put together a team composed mainly of local judges, together with some other insiders we very much admire: Alessandro Rabottini (independent curator), Livia Peraldo Matton (director Elle Decor), Christian Larsen (Curator at MAD Museum), Alvise Braga Illa (Entrepreneur and collector), Julian Stair (artist), Carolina Orsini (curator Mudec).

The world of ceramics is extraordinary for this very reason: there is a feeling of community that transcends nations.

The fourth edition of the Officine Saffi Award also includes eight residencies at incredible ceramic centers around the world. How did you come to include these incentives in the award?

The competition was born spontaneously, but it immediately took shape as a strong project. From the beginning, we wanted to combine the first cash prize of € 10,0000 with residency prizes since we know the artists well and we understand that it is essential for them to travel, discover new techniques and cultures. The world of ceramics is extraordinary for this very reason: there is a feeling of community that transcends nations. And, suddenly, prestigious residencies such as Guldagergaard were enthusiastic to participate in this project. Over the years we have managed to involve amazing spaces, all very different from each other. EKWC can carry out projects at a certain level no one else can. Ranti Tjan, the director, has a team and equipment that any artist would dream of having at their disposal. The Sasama International Ceramic Festival, on the other hand, allows artists to have an authentic experience in the Japanese countryside, working closely with a remote and exciting community. The Mondovì Museum of Ceramics has opened the doors not only of their exhibition rooms but also of their production unit, for the winning artist to create an amazing solo exhibition. The artist and designer Päivi Rintaniemi has been with us since the very beginning, and in partnership with the city of Seinäjoki is giving artists the possibility to work in a design factory and to exhibit their pieces in cult places of Alvar Aalto’s international architecture.

Starting this year we are happy to welcome the oldest European manufacturer still in business, Este Ceramiche, where an artist can work surrounded by many centuries of ceramic history. A new residency award is also offered by the Bruckner Foundation in Geneva, which has a residency program that is very mindful of the international scene.

Do you think that the award and following exhibition fulfills their purpose as intended?

Of course, I wish the contest could offer even more prizes and could reach even more artists, but I think in a small way we are making a difference and moving the needle. We have just confirmed a new Acquisition Award dedicated to young artists, promoted by Four Arts. This new award confirms the growing interest in ceramics; the world of art and design have radically changed their attitude and are now very inclusive and less wary of those who work with ceramics.

Tell us about your future plans.

We have many upcoming plans, but unfortunately at the moment everything is pending, waiting to understand the evolution of our future. Officine Saffi will certainly always remain a center of research, development, production, promotion, and enhancement of contemporary ceramics.

The Officine Saffi Award supports and promotes artists working with ceramics in contemporary art and collectible design. The competition is open to all contemporary artists and designers of any age, whether emerging or established, individuals or members of collectives, and with no restrictions on theme, gender or nationality, who use ceramics as an artistic medium. Visit Officine Saffi’s website and follow them on Instagram.

Many thanks to Laura for answering our questions.

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Interview by Vasi Hirdo, founding editor of Ceramics Now, 2020. Photos courtesy of Officine Saffi.

A couple of months ago we interviewed Ranti Tjan, the director of the European Ceramic Workcentre since 2010, and asked him to present our readers with the center’s activities and plans. So, here’s the interview. Enjoy reading!

Hi Ranti! Could you tell us more about Sundaymorning@ekwc? What are your main activities?

Sundaymorning@ekwc is a residency where artists gather to advance themselves. They can be sculptors, painters, composers, writers, video-artists, or whatever, but they must be professional and open to play, experiment, and change. Our residents come from all over the world, Asia, America’s, Australia, Africa, Europe. It’s a mixture of different worlds. Residents stay for twelve weeks in the house; every Wednesday one resident leaves, every Thursday one resident arrives. At any moment we have between 12 and 14 residents in the house. The average age of our residents is 43, so we have many professors in the house doing a residency, sometimes during their sabbatical.

We are based in Oisterwijk, in the south of the Netherlands, a little country in Europe. The center is not easy to grasp, we are 12 staff members (most of them part-time) and we try to service almost the same number of residents. Our goal is to develop ceramics in the artistic world, in visual arts, design, and architecture. Some of our residents have never worked with ceramics before, so with our skilled staff (7 experts), we introduce our residents to the ceramic learning process. Readers of Ceramics Now know this is a tough process, the residents need many hours to get the best out of it. Our center is open 24 hours a day, so in the middle of the night or early dawn, there are always people working. The center has many objectives, like acting as a facilitator, advisor, coach, mentor, trainer. We love seeing residents become friends or expanding their network with each other’s contacts. And it’s great to see the artistic results of the residents pop up everywhere in the world. We started in 1969 and we’re still on the map.

In 2015 you moved to a larger facility and went through some changes. Did you also change your focus on education?

Yes, we did. The move to Oisterwijk in 2015 was our second move and with each move, we became twice as large. Now we’re based in an old factory, 5.000 m2 (53820 sq ft), with space to accommodate the public and do educational activities. One of the new things we introduced in the center is to have strong relationships with higher education institutions. For example, we asked students who study chemistry to prepare tours for the public. These students focus on the material and what happens with it during the ceramic process, and they have no idea about artistic quality. That is quite refreshing because artistic quality has a fluid meaning in the diverse and international community we have at Sundaymorning@ekwc.

Another program we set up is having interns who study physics. They come every week and the residents can ask them about the way sound works, or how strong clay is, or at what moment porcelain breaks. We’re also involved in international cooperations, like the ECART project with the French-speaking art universities in Europe, and GEM, a project focused on coaching in higher education.

We also just met a brilliant young student who changed her career as an architect in the ambition to become a teacher. She is making a new course for us: to work on the awareness of ceramics. We also endorse international exchanges for staff members. For instance, we have a staff exchange with The Shigaraki Ceramic Culture Park and Hochschule Koblenz.

You offer artists a fully equipped center where they can focus on creating exceptional artworks. When did you start organizing residencies for artists and what do you offer?

The Ceramic Workcenter, as it was originally called, started in 1969. In 1991 it was renamed the European Ceramic Workcentre, which is still our official name. We use the Sundaymorning@ekwc name as a reference to this great song, Sundaymorning by the Velvet Underground. One of the former staff members came up with this, and I love to support staff and residents in realizing their ideas, dreams, and objectives. The moment you read this we have Pierluigi Pompei, Froukje van Baren, Sander Alblas, Tjalling Mulder, Katrin Konig, Mieke Montagne, and Michal Puszcynski as staff members with ceramic expertise in the house.

Yes, we do have great facilities, but these are only useful if you know how to use them. I think we have ten kilns or more, in several sizes, gas ones as well as electric ones. Our digital lab is also worth to mention, if residents know the program Rhino, they can also play with our digital facilities like the foam cutter, the milling machine, the 3d clay or porcelain printers, etcetera.

Anyone with a good plan can apply. Usually, we have an application deadline in May. Right now, 2020 and 2021 are fully booked. We make the selection more than a year in advance because we realize it takes time to organize a sabbatical, rent out your house, or find someone to take care of your pets. And your family and business have to accept you’re out of town for a while. And yes, you need funding. The Dutch state and our province finance a large part, but we still need to charge a resident between 7.000 and 20.000 euros for a residency, a price which includes studio, advice, use of the workshops, tax, materials, firing. Residents get funded by their savings, or they have a museum, gallery, university, or collector who endorses them. Some of them do crowdfunding campaigns or they sell in advance or they have a commission or get a bursary from a fund. We can’t offer free lunch, but we know a residency brings artists further in their career and opens up new opportunities.

How many artists participated so far in residencies?

Last year we celebrated our 50th anniversary. We tried to count our residents and came up with 1500. Because our facilities expanded in the last couple of years we can host about 60 residents each year.

Can you tell us more about this year’s participating artists?

That’s hard, like at any other moment we have tantalizing artists in the house, always! We have 16 studios and when you’re a resident your neighbor will inspire you. I enjoy the application procedures. We read the artist’s work plans carefully and this gives most of the points. But I also try to find the unconventional in an application. A residency must open new roads for the participant.

How are you coping with the coronavirus pandemic? Were your activities affected in any way?

To start with, for many people in the world it is a real tragedy. Our center tried to avoid the risks and to function as normally as possible. We have not been closed because we almost function like a quarantine kind of place. Artists have their own studio and room, it’s spacious and it’s easy to avoid people. For many residents it was impossible to come to the Netherlands due to travel restrictions, so we had to postpone some residencies.

What are the most difficult parts of managing such a complex arts center?

To go home! It’s a great place to be. Seriously! From 2013-2016 we lost 100% of our government funding, so instead of 1 million euros a year we received nothing. We were almost bankrupt. So I had to let 14 of the 22 staff members go and had to find new ways to survive financially. Part of the strategy was to announce that we would grow twice as big in four years, without state funding. Thanks to the support of many friends and alumni, we succeeded, and now we’re funded by the government again.

What part of the job do you enjoy the most?

The most inspiring part is our residents. Many of them suffer experiencing the ceramic learning process and it’s great to witness their journey and to see the results. I also like to talk about our center and present it during visits to other centers, art schools, and universities. I would like to visit the USA in 2021 during NCECA, so maybe I will give some lectures there. The center is also active in areas with a very strong ceramic tradition like South Korea, Japan, China, Taiwan, the United Kingdom, and Italy.

Tell us about your plans at Sundaymorning@ekwc.

We have so many new plans, and many plans from last year are still yet to materialize. Since 2013 we didn’t do much with our digital communication. So this year Jorgen, Nico, and Annelies are working on that. An up-to-date website, online masterclasses, maybe an online residency. We’re also putting efforts into our shop and trying to find more friends and investors. These are all short term goals.

At the moment I’m working on the EKWC 2030 Plan, thinking about how a residency like ours can still be relevant in 2030. We have to change to stay the same, we have to change to catch up, we have to change to be relevant. We have to change to keep up with the rest of the world and think about all these contemporary issues, like what it means to be part of the Anthropocene. There is so much to do, it makes me nervous!

Many thanks to Ranti for answering our questions! Visit Sundaymorning@ekwc’s website and follow them on Instagram.

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Interview by Vasi Hirdo, founding editor of Ceramics Now, 2020. Photos courtesy of Sundaymorning@ekwc and the artists.

I build sculptures of hard objects, readymades that are given to me by friends or bought at flea markets. My interest lies within the mass produced, and highly consumed items, where the aesthetic expression is often perceived tasteless, and the material value is low. As a child, I appreciated knick-knacks, and I loved all things pink, shiny and glittery. These treasures led me into a dreamland where everything could happen, and the boundaries were set only by my imagination. This somewhat shamefaced enthusiasm for mass produced objects is still a great passion of mine. Although these objects have no practical function, we choose to include them in our homes and lives for various reasons—deeply emotional or just decorative. I am attracted to readymades for how they portray scenes from a life far removed from my own, a romantic view of life. Their anonymity makes it possible for me to fill them with a new purpose of my choosing. I fill them with dreams, longings, lust and desire.

I aim to create new aesthetics by combining dream filled materials. My work is influenced by a culture of consumption. I combine industrially produced readymade objects with handmade elements, abstract shapes and real objects into amorphous sculptures glazed in various colors. I want to form different aspects of our lives that appear and disappear at different angles or perspectives. My work is never complete, it’s always in change. It is a constantly changing intellectual process and a manic play with the material.

You started to make objects in the late 2000’s, having previously worked as a sociologist. What sparked your interest in art and, in particular, in ceramic art?

For as long as I can remember I’ve built things, made drawings, paintings and collecting objects. Being a creative child, I also found psychology and sociology a passion of mine early in life. Reading books in the subjects, trying to find answers of who we are and how we became who we are. The passion for art was always there but growing up in a right winged society were education and a good job where more important factors than art I aimed for a career in sociology.

After some tragic events in my personal life, I lost the very essential trust in society, and my belief system crashed. It took some time to rebuild who I am but now I am an artist. I think deep down in my heart I’ve always been an artist as I also continue to be a sociologist. For me, it is the same. When I choose to work with ceramic materials, I do it for its physicality, its constant ability to change, its beauty, rawness and contradiction. Ceramics gives me a mental and physical wrestling match that connects deeply to my inner core.

I am attracted to readymades for how they portray scenes from a life far removed from my own, a romantic view of life. Their anonymity makes it possible for me to fill them with a new purpose of my choosing. I fill them with dreams, longings, lust and desire.

Tell us about how you create the sculptures and what technical difficulties you encounter.

My process starts out with an observation in the surroundings of my life. For example, during visits to the recycle station I noticed a constant stream of people throwing away piles of nice and functional things—everything from building material, furniture, refrigerators and cell phones. Rolf is the name of a man working at the recycle station. I asked Rolf what he thought about this. He said; “Couples meet and start a home and family together. They feel a need to set their character to the home they bought together, so they start to throw out everything that is old in the house. Kitchen cabinets, tiles and wallpaper are all replaced with something new and fresh. When there is nothing more to replace, the couple split up and start a new family and buy a new home to remodel.” It made me wonder.

I also collect objects. I constantly seek and collect lots of things. Collecting is an action of mixed emotions—wonderful but at the same time disgusting. Some of the materials I use are found. I find materials in the streets—such as bricks, dust and glass. A couple of years ago I cleaned out some clay that had been in my studio for too long. I tossed it away in my parent’s garden compost and forgot all about it. Years later my father comes up to me with this lump of clay in his hand. “Do you want this piece of clay I found it in the compost? I didn’t think this kind of clay existed here in this part of Sweden. I thought it was mainly found in the southern part of Sweden. Maybe you can use it in one of your sculptures?” It was a beautiful lump of clay all covered in brown/black soil and inside there were a grey and white core. It had transformed into something new and exciting—just as my artwork transform objects into new shapes. This lump later played an important part in an exhibition of mine.

To empower my work, I think of a title while building my sculptures. I sculpt with hard objects inside a prebuilt mold. This requires focus and intensity. Then I fire the kiln, so the materials melt together. When the temperature cools down, I break open the mold. Now I repeat the process and do so until I’m pleased with the piece. Some technical difficulties can appear in limitations of the laws of physics such as the size of the kiln and weight of the material.

How does the decorative purpose of an object change after it goes through your recontextualization process?

My sculptures embody the symbolic, aesthetic and cultural values that the objects in themselves possess, but by transferring these objects to alternative contexts I create contradictions and challenge the normative view. I want to raise issues that revolve around tradition. What happens when we move away from these traditions? And what happens in the encounter between the spectator and the object when the object doesn’t look as expected? The ceramic material is charged with particular feelings, standards, and values, which have a significant influence on my work. I take the liberty to enhance and overthrow set conceptions. By using readymades in my sculptures, I make use of these preconceptions and enhance the feelings I have for the objects. My strategies are disturbing, and I want to destabilize our thinking pattern.

You believe that the system that requires continuously increased consumption is cracking, and this is visible through our psychological and emotional displacement. How did you become concerned with the changes in our consumption habits?

By being human.

As humans, we tend to collect more objects as we grow older and, as societies, we tend to “consume” more objects as we progress. Why do you think that we live off and through material things?

Consumption has a greater implication than just being products simply changing hands. A process has begun, where the consumer adapts the object by infusing meaning and symbolism by placing it in an environment that complements or enhances an already existing scene. The consumer re-contextualizes the object, i.e. creating new meaning by placing it in a new environment. Human beings actively construct, organize, regulate and change the world through consumption. Objects can, for example, create a symbolic presence of absent family members and past lives. Environmental psychology states that the individual mentally and emotionally incorporates the home and its objects, developing identification between them and the ego—an act that encompasses both aspects of security and self-fulfilment. In the relationship between humans and their environment, there is an ongoing interaction where the environment is affected by human needs and values while in turn the environment affects humans by giving stimulus, safety and comfort.

We develop close relationships with objects because they offer us stimulus, familiarity, safety, and comfort. What is the difference between how we connect to mass-produced items and how we connect to objets d’art?

Mass produced objects raise strong feelings of recognition, bringing associations, narratives and notions of time and existence. Many of these objects have been kept around us for generations, things we have encountered in different scenarios and contexts. Objects are not static but exist in a constant shift through time, trends, settings and people. The difference is also in the question of taste.

2015. Interview by Vasi Hirdo, published in Ceramics Now Magazine Issue 3.

The interview is copyright of Ceramics Now and Karin Karinson, and cannot be reproduced without permission. All images are copyright of the artist unless otherwise stated.

I change with the passing of time, and because I change, my works must change as well. As the works are the expression of my inner self, they will always change, much like the turning of the seasons.

I have always felt that my work can evolve. The wish of seeing something different and new, the new possibilities, is what excites me. My works are like a diary—with each passing day my life changes and so is my work. I don’t know where the fountain of my imagination comes from, but I do think the nature and environment that had surrounded me in my youth has greatly influenced me.

Your current series, titled Kei (Mindscapes), is characterized by movement and energy, with features like double-walled interiors that swirl and spiral. What sparked the creation of this series?

I wanted to find new vistas for expression, and my previous series did not allow me enough freedom. The ideas I had for this new series was the removal of the base, and the further removal of functionality and symmetry. I also wanted to express the quality of space that could not be seen.

Why does form by itself play such an important role in your work?

Form is expression, and there is more to form than what can be seen with the eye. It must be felt in the space itself. Decorative elements such as colors and textures are secondary.

In Japan, everyone knows what a jar form is. Yet making forms that have never been seen before—this is what I wish to create. The essential qualities of clay are also revealed through form.

Form is expression, and there is more to form than what can be seen with the eye. It must be felt in the space itself.

When did you recognize that the clay found by your house was a material you wanted to work with?

Many years ago, a typhoon swept through Izumo, and a landslide occurred behind my hill-side home. The clay was revealed, and I thought it could be used. It is a typical type of red clay that could have been found anywhere. I found this clay very early on in my career, and I currently use a type that is found about 30 minutes from my home in Izumo. Each clay has its own memory. By unlocking its memory through firing, one can reveal a myriad of colors.

You have experimented with different firing processes and it took you many years to arrive at the current one. Can you detail the process that you’re currently performing?

Quite simply, I first bisque-fire, and then pour silica slip on the surface and begin a main-firing that lasts 40 hours at 1270 degrees Celsius. After this, I remove the silica, and then fire again with a second main-firing of 40 hours at again 1270 degrees Celsius. I use both reduction and oxidation firing to change the colours of each individual work.

There is a strong relationship in your work between unpredictability and control. To what degree do you control the firing process and where does chance intervene?

I fire without using data—only memory and experience help guide me, yet in many ways I can substantially control the memories in colour that I wish to express in my work. Of course, the element of chance is the final element that I cannot control, and it adds a final surprise to each work that I cannot predict. This is not only in regards to colour, but in regards to the final form of my work as well, as the works will move within the kiln.

In the last decade, your work entered many public collections and has captivated a global audience. How do you view the relationship between reward and demand? What do you find most rewarding at this job?

Kansha—when I can make the next work, is when it is most rewarding. In the very beginning of my career, I wished to make a living by ceramics, and I had to make works that sometimes I did not really want to make, but that I knew would sell to a Japanese audience, in particular with the element of functionality. Today, it is gratifying to know that I can create works that I truly want to create. I am grateful to everyone who has supported me throughout the years and allowed me to have this freedom in creating what I wish to make.

The collaboration between you and Yufuku Gallery just turned 18 years old. What are your thoughts about this? Can you recall the first exhibition held at their premises?

Meeting Yufuku Gallery was an important turning point for me, for it gave me a reason to discontinue my affiliation with important “craft” organisations in Japan. By exhibiting at Yufuku, it allowed me to not be swayed by winning competitions and receiving awards, and helped me develop what I truly wanted to create.

My first exhibition at Yufuku was very special, but it was perhaps my exhibition in 2002 that helped me to become confident in expressing what I truly wanted to create. In this light, I am very grateful to Yufuku’s support over the nearly 20 years in being represented by them.

2015. Interview by Vasi Hirdo, published in Ceramics Now Magazine Issue 3.

Translated from the original Japanese by Wahei Aoyama.
Special thanks to Yufuku Gallery for their support in the making of this interview.

The interview is copyright of Ceramics Now, Ken Mihara, and Yufuku Gallery, and cannot be reproduced without permission. All images are copyright of the artist and Yufuku Gallery unless otherwise stated.

Early in graduate school when I began experimenting with sculptural work, I was initially drawn to porcelain for its smooth elasticity that I hadn’t experienced in the stoneware and red clays I had been using. It moved nicely in my hands. My first sculptures were very heavy, weighted items. I had very little formal clay training, so it was all trial and error.

I began to study porcelain artists who pushed the opposite end of porcelain’s capabilities. They inspired me with very their thin and translucent work. At the time, I was immersed in the writings of James Hillman about the soul of the artist and Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Both explored ideas about contradictions of life, how our bodies can be heavy with burden, yet light with the insignificance of being one transitory soul in this great system. I began looking at the contrast between the fragile, translucent porcelain and the heavier weighted pieces I had been creating. I started to explore methods to get my clay to remain structurally intact while thin enough to let the light through. Porcelain slip allowed me to push this even further. I was fascinated by its ability to be both heavy and light, similar to the spiritual experience we have in life.

It all came together for me, however, as I began experimenting with firing. I learned from some very experienced colleagues that the porcelain clay body has this point in the kiln where it will begin to slump. If you manipulate how you place something in the kiln – by setting it up on stilts in precarious situations – you can take advantage of this property, and the porcelain seems to sag or stretch at just the right moment when the kiln reaches its highest temperature. As it cools, this movement is locked in place, and the gesture that I wanted to convey is amplified since it moved beyond where the clay could go prior to firing. This movement is very human, as though the material had a mobility of its own. This corporeality along with the spiritual connection between the heavy and light porcelain transformed the way I saw my work. This is why in my work the porcelain pieces are the body. They are the human element.

“I have always felt hyper aware of my emotions and what I perceived to be other people’s emotions.”

What emotional states do you express through visual representations of precariousness, fragility, and tension?

I like to watch people, and their physical reactions to situations they aren’t even involved in. If a group of ballet dancers enter the room, everyone seems to sit a little taller, straighten out their backs, a subconscious reaction to feeling a little insecure in comparison to the perfected postures ballerinas have. If a stack of books sits wobbling on the edge of a table, a viewer will sit on the edge of their seat. They will jump with a start when the books hit the floor, as though they, themselves, were stressed by the pending fall. Our bodies manifest outwardly what we are feeling on the inside. Precarious situations make us nervous, edgy, and uncomfortable. Seeing something fragile may make us feel protective and cautious; or may leave us feeling free, unburdened and buoyant. When we experience tension in a personal relationship, we feel conflicted, tight, heavy with worry.

I think making art, and perhaps being a creative person, in general, can be very manic. Your emotions can waver between complete inspiration and ingenuity to a forlorn sense of being directionless. I have always felt hyper aware of my emotions and what I perceived to be other people’s emotions. You can see in their physical demeanor that something is influencing them, but I think people are often unaware of it. We brush these feelings aside to carry on with our day. Putting my sculptures in these physical states is my way of giving significance to these daily emotions and the way we feel them in our bodies. It gives an object that we can pause over and reflect on.

Do you believe the viewers can experience the same tension and physical stress that you do?

This is my intent. But I think that it can differ based on what is going on with your life and your experiences. Many pieces mean different things to me at different times. Often, I am just making, and I don’t quite know where it is coming from. Months or years down the road I can look at it and know that a big life change or emotional moment was occurring at the time of creation, and I’m almost embarrassed at how literal it seems to me. I enjoy hearing from people what my pieces bring up for them. Sometimes if someone I know quite well is drawn to a specific piece, I feel quite sure that I know exactly why, based on their personality or what is going on in their lives.

Through the firing process, you preserve and even amplify the human gesture your sculptures take on during their creation. How do you create a new piece? What techniques do you use?

I rarely have an idea of what a piece will be in its final state when I begin working on it. Sometimes it starts with a technique I want to use, or I just flow with what I am feeling. My three primary ways of working right now are through slip dipping fabrics and sculpting with them, hand building, or manipulation of slip cast pieces. When I slip dip fabric, I have to be in my creative flow to have any success. It’s a pretty subconscious way of working. I have thoughts, feelings, sketches, inspiration of what is emotionally moving me at that moment, and I just create. When the fabric is thick with porcelain slip, it takes on a very skin-like, leathery feel. It’s amazing to work with, although very hard. It is also very time-limited. Once the fabric-dipped piece begins to get tacky, you are done, the ability to work the material stops. You can add bits on or make small manipulations, but the big gestures have been set. This limitation inspires me. It reminds me to leave perfection out of it and go where it takes me.

I long ago let go the notion of waste. Many things I create in my studio never see the light of day and my way of working and firing produces much trial and error. However, even a failed attempt can lead to an idea that turns into a great studio success. After I have created many of these pieces, I do a big firing. The fabric pieces are actually at their most durable state when they are bone dry but are far too fragile when bisque fired to be moved, so I just fire everything once. When they come out, there is a period of contemplation in the studio where I try to discover what the porcelain parts – the body – need to be completed. Do I need multiples? Could I add additional parts to put it into a situation that tells me a story or expresses a physical or emotional state? Does it need to be re-fired on stilts in an attempt to manipulate its shape or gesture? This is where a lot of my found objects such as steel, wire and wood play a role. I use these to create an environment for the porcelain piece. My studio is always full of my porcelain pieces. Sometimes they sit dormant for years before they find their home in a finished piece.

There is a contradiction in your work between the precious porcelain and the metal or found objects that you use. What does this contrast reveal?

It started as just an aesthetic that I was drawn to because of my architectural background and the fact that I live in the rust belt, where cities are full of the beautiful detritus of their past mixed in with the new. I love that look, and I love that feel of the clean and dirty co-existing. It didn’t take me long to discover that this contrast between the old, rusty, deteriorating elements with the precious, clean and often fragile porcelain provokes the tension that I am often trying to convey. The metal pieces particularly can be oppressive, yet the stark and intriguing porcelain is what draws you closer; it lifts right out of the sculpture. Manipulating the relationship between these parts allows me to decide what the feel of the piece is going to be. Who is dominating, the light, the beautiful? Or will the precious be suppressed, held back, held down by the environment around it?

Before completing your MFA in ceramics, you studied architecture and worked in that field for several years. When did you know what you have a passion for ceramics? What prompted the change?

I highly value my architectural education. The program had a strong art development component. We drew by hand, water colored, visited many museums and studied a year in Italy where I experienced art like I never had before. Upon returning from my year in Rome, I wanted more of that freeing kind of creativity that I was surrounded by there. Architecture is so specific; I decided on a whim to take an elective ceramics course and immediately fell in love with working in clay. I continued to do ceramics as independent studies when I had taken all the formal classes.

After school, I worked four years in urban design and architecture. Although I loved many aspects of it, I didn’t find the practice of architecture as creative as its formal education and I began to feel a bit lost and unfulfilled. I think it was the lack of creating things with my own hands that I was missing. During a job change, I took a couple months where I worked only part time, and I spent the rest of my time at the Union Project ceramics co-op that made me incredibly fulfilled and happy. So I decided to take the leap and pursue my MFA. Mostly, I wanted a period where I could concentrate directly on my art and create a body of work. I had no idea how influential school would be in completely transforming my creative thought process and change the direction of my development as an artist. I am a pretty practical person, so it was a big risk for me to get a degree in a field that I knew was financially insecure, but I figured that the pay-off in my happiness and spiritual growth would be worth it. It certainly has been.

Did you have a mentor when you were growing up? How about in your development as an artist?

I’ve had so many people who have supported me along the way. Growing up my maternal grandmother, Dottie was a big influence on me. She was a very creative person and a pure lover of life. She designed and sewed her own clothes and taught us that if you could make things with your own hands, you would never be bored. My parents always did a god job of creating opportunities to pursue creative endeavors for my brother, sister and me. They found art classes and programs for us to be involved in outside of school, and I tried just about every type of art, dance, or theater class that was out there. I think that creativity can easily get stifled in youth, and I am so glad that was not the case in our family.

In graduate school at The University of the Arts in Philadelphia, I had some fantastic professors, Linda Cordell, and Sumi Maeshima, who pushed me to venture into working sculpturally. They had to work hard at this. I was insistent on continuing to make only functional ceramics. When they finally broke through to me, I found I really enjoyed the freedom of letting go of the need for art to function as anything aside from art. However, the biggest influence on my development as an artist has been my mentor Ed Eberle, an exceptionally talented porcelain artist whose studio is in Homestead, near Pittsburgh. He opened me up to new ways of thinking and introduced me to some reading that evolved my creative process. He also broke down the self-consciousness that was holding me back. He convinced me that just making things, and being true to myself in what I was making was the art, forget about everything and everyone else. Having this support and encouragement from someone I deeply respected and admired as an artist helped me to let go of the doubt that was holding me back. He openly shared his wealth of knowledge on technique, process, and technical skill. Ed continues to mentor me, long after my formal schooling has ended. For this, I am tremendously grateful.

2015. Interview by Vasi Hirdo, published in Ceramics Now Magazine Issue 3.

Visit Erica Nickol’s website.

The interview is copyright of Ceramics Now and Erica Nickol, and cannot be reproduced without permission. All images are copyright of the artist unless otherwise stated.

Initially, I had no idea that my time spent in the wilderness was going to impact my creative process. My first three years in undergraduate school were pretty lame. I had no idea what I wanted to communicate visually, and I was focused on improving my facility with a variety of materials.

A breakthrough occurred in my fourth year and began to create works that described an aesthetic inspired by the wilderness of the Canadian Shield. I spent my summer vacations in North Western Ontario on Kakagi Lake with my father, mother and brother since I was three. We would explore the lake, and portage to surrounding ones. It was a magical time; we would fish and cook on an open campfire, hike, and swim. Kakagi Lake is large, has endless islands and is very deep. It was rare to see another boat, it felt like we were all alone at the end of the world; it’s a unique place. These memories are positive ones, filled with love and shaped who I am. When I began to create pieces inspired/influenced by those memories/experiences, I felt a strong desire to capture something within the work that would describe this place. I felt a need to convey that same feeling of wonderment to the viewer. I felt this was accomplished with my first installation Dusk in Kakagi I-XV.

Do you think that it is possible to live in a human-made environment without any psychological consequences?

This is a tuff question, as I am not an environmental physiologist, but from my experiences, I know my time in the wilderness shaped who I am. The wilderness has a profound effect on the way I make my way in the world. It provides perspective on life, and its strength feeds your soul. There are many people who live in “concrete jungles” and have no interest in experiencing nature. Depending on their lifestyle, the absence of experiencing nature may have no effect on their happiness or wellbeing.

My opinion from experience: I moved from Canada to the USA, to attend graduate school in a small city in the midwest. During this time, I experienced withdrawal from a lifestyle that was no longer an option and consciously made work in response to this absence. My thesis was devoted to researching the psychological impact our natural environment has on our wellbeing. When I am unable to experience nature on a regular basis, it affects my happiness. As soon as I go for a long walk in a place far away from lights and the noise pollution, everything feels just as it should be.

I compare experiences in clay to experiences dating “the bad boy”; it’s a lot of drama, but a lot of fun.

When did you start working with ceramics?

I began working with ceramics when I was in my high school art class. At one point, we had a student teacher, and he introduced us to slip casting. I was totally blown away with the material and enjoyed working in 3D (compared to the usual drawing and painting we had done up until that point). During my second year of undergraduate school at the School of Art, at the University of Manitoba I enrolled in an introductory ceramics course. Even though I wasn’t successful and quite frustrated, I felt drawn to being able expressing myself through clay. In retrospect, I enjoyed the challenges clay presented. The material was unforgiving, but you can make anything you want clay, and when it works, it feels amazing. I compare experiences in clay to experiences dating “the bad boy”; it’s a lot of drama, but a lot of fun.

I ended up doing my undergraduate thesis in ceramics, and there were a few people that really impacted my evolution as an artist. Mariko Patterson was an instructor in the department during my fourth year, and the casual conversations that we would have in the studio lead me to working more loosely, hand building as a sculptor rather than throwing on the wheel. It was freeing. The second person that impacted on my evolution as an artist was Linda Christianson, our visiting artist during my thesis year. We had the most thoughtful conversation about my work, and she was really present. I was having a difficult time expressing what my work was about and didn’t know what was influencing/inspiring my ideas. She reached over and looked at a few images I had pinned to the wall, and turned them on their side, saying “that’s where they come from, that’s them, right there.” I ended up creating an installation of fourteen over life-size sculptures titled Dusk in Kakagi I-XV. To this day, I feel that my most successful pieces came from intuitive feelings that I followed. I had no idea what the work was about during the making process and feel that work that results from this approach is the most successful.

The surface of your work offers a visual contrast between smooth and rough areas. Can you tell us more about this contrast and choice of materials?

The visual contrast within my work comes from formal decision-making, and not wanting the pieces to be too manic. Subconsciously, forms emerge that allude to of the human figure and organs and collide with non-descriptive forms from nature, created through an approach of ripping, gouging, cutting, and smoothing the clay. I use a low fire, red clay body that I developed over time, which stands up well in a variety of outdoor climates. The clay body has an immense amount of grog (a variety of particle sizes) that helps with firing large forms with inconsistent thicknesses.

You employ memory narratives to create sculptures and installations. How does this process work? Do you create art spontaneously?

I work in a very spontaneous, intuitive approach (I don’t map out or make plans); I get an idea and execute it. Sometimes, I just get a feeling and have a vague vision of an installation or sculpture. I work with clay in a very physical manner. Traditional ceramic techniques such as slab or coil building felt very restrictive. Ever since my last few years in undergraduate school, the work has gotten bigger and bigger, not just in height, but mass.

During my first-year committee review in graduate school, I was eaten alive. I presented an installation outdoors titled Hung to Cure, based on my recent experience living in a remote community in Northern Saskatchewan. The ceramic components of this piece where slab built triangular forms, from which I cast plastic “pod-like” forms that hung in a semi-circle around them. The piece was all about these plastic pods. They were massive balloons, painted blood red, and the aftermath of painting them made my studio look like a slaughterhouse (my studio mate was a very understanding person). A result of that critique was a conversation with one of my committee members, Pete Pinnell. I expressed how limited I felt, and described how I would ultimately like to work with clay; have a large solid mound to manipulate in a “whole-body” physical approach. He asked, what was holding me back? I said, “I would have to make like, a 1000lbs of clay” and he said, so? From that day on, I began to make 1000-1500 lbs of clay every two weeks for two years. It was great.

To this day, I feel that my most successful pieces came from intuitive feelings that I followed. I had no idea what the work was about during the making process and feel that work that results from this approach is the most successful.

A few years ago, you said that you use “banal” as a tool to remind yourself that honest, soulful ideas may be mundane to some, but are fulfilling, emotional expressions of who you are. How and why did you start using this tool? Do you also apply it when deciding if a work is finished?

During my residency at The Medalta International Artists in Residence, I began to write very candid streams of consciousness pieces and post them on my website. The one titled Banal was about my graduate school thesis defense. I initially thought my graduate thesis review was an awful experience. I had worked so hard to create an installation that included several components: Burnt, Shifted, and Drift. These were major pieces, and it was an “act of god” that they survived the firing process. I had expectations that I was going to be praised for my evolution as an artist and the discussion would focus on the work in the exhibition, as well as my development as an artist over the last three years. This was not the case. One of the committee members cast a dark cloud over the entire defense, starting the discussion by saying the work was banal and had nothing to say about it other then how boring it was. I was really taken aback; the rest of the defense was a blur.

About a year later I realized that comment was an important one and thought about its meaning. It taught me how to anticipate critique, how to be more objectively critical, and to realize that the work you make is a personal journey. If you make work that is honest and meaningful, stay true to your practice and are fulfilled, and this results in work that is banal to some, then so be it, c’est la vie.

You are the Curator of Travelling Exhibitions (TREX) for the Alberta Foundation for the Arts. Tell us about this program and about the role you play.

I feel lucky to have a position in the Arts. I work at the Esplanade Arts and Heritage Centre (esplanade.ca) as the Travelling Exhibitions program manager and curator for the Southeast region of Alberta. The programs mandate is to provide every Albertan with the opportunity to enjoy visual art exhibitions in their community, supporting and promoting Alberta made art, with each show traveling for 2.5 years. These professionally curated exhibitions travel all over the province to non-traditional gallery spaces such as schools, libraries, health centers and small rural museums or galleries. Each of the four regions circulate an average of 9 unique exhibitions 12 months of the year, with an average of 60,000 visitors experiencing a TREX exhibition yearly.

Exhibitions are curated from a variety of sources, such as the 8000 piece permanent collection at the Alberta Foundation for the Arts, which showcases the creative talents of over 2000 Alberta artists. The educational components of the program aim to help the viewer to engage with the artwork beyond the decorative. It provides educational support material with each exhibition through an interpretative catalog and educators guide. It is filled with information about the history of the medium featured in the exhibition, lesson plans for visual art projects, and information about the featured artist. TREX also offers a Visiting Artist Program to our venues, with our artist conducting hands-on workshops. When their exhibition is on display, we can plan for the featured artist(s) to travel to host venues. The program is unique to western Canada, and I feel very fortunate to be a part of it.

2015. Interview by Vasi Hirdo, published in Ceramics Now Magazine Issue 3.

Visit Xanthe Isbister’s website.

The interview is copyright of Ceramics Now and Xanthe Isbister, and cannot be reproduced without permission. All images are copyright of the artist unless otherwise stated.

As a Danish ceramic artist, do you consider the living climate an important influence in your work?

I think it’s fair to say that my works have a certain Nordic nature component. Danish nature is not wild and magnificent – more one that offers quiet experiences: a misty morning over the ploughed fields; an old, dead tree; rainy weather that starts as dark streaks on the horizon; the weather clearing up after rain. Danish weather is changeable and often a cold, clammy affair, but this makes one more keenly aware of the light and small shifts in nuance.

Your work have been described as highly experimental. From the slip-cast rigorous design to the hand-built structures, you have been experimenting different body of works over the years. How do you find yourself shifting subjects and manners? Is it a continuous change?

I have never personally felt that I undertook dramatic shifts. I see my work as an on-going development, where one thing leads to the next. I will never completely finish – fortunately. While working, new ideas emerge that have to be tested. One could say that the experiments themselves ask the next questions. Ceramics has so many possibilities, and I like challenging the material and myself.

What influences and inspires you the most in your creation? How would you describe your current body of work?

With my background as a ceramist I nearly always have my point of departure in an idea to do with material or form. This can, for example, be new form expressions achieved by special compositions, or through cuts or glazing experiments that result in strange surfaces and textures. I often gain inspiration from nature’s formal principles and phenomena. Work takes place systematically and always on the premises of the ceramic material, but the investigations often develop into something that is reminiscent of large, amorphous nature-abstractions, with plenty of glaze. The fantastic thing about clay is that what is nature’s own material can constantly be transformed into something new and relevant.

Delicacy and sensitivity are two powerful characteristics of your work. How much do you rely on intuition and how much on unpredictability?

I make use of both in my work. Ceramics has an innate unpredictability, especially because it is out of one’s hands during the firing at high temperatures. This unpredictability is a challenging co-partner and opponent. All the time, one gets something more or less intentional for free, and from there one has to decide if and how it can be used. My intuition has probably been honed by many years’ experience of this process.

Besides a very playful approach in manipulating clay, you ingeniously use colors and assets of glazes in your work. Tell us more about the importance of color and its use in your creations.

Previously, I was mainly interested in the ability of glazes to interact and behave differently, according to the thicknesses involved. At my ‘Interglacial Period’ exhibition in Galleri Nørby in 2005, it was mainly green/turquoise, because copper is very good at producing that sort of thing. Then came the exhibition ‘Elements in White’ at Galerie Maria Lund in Paris in 2008, where I almost washed the slate clean and experimented with various textures within white glaze.It was not until the more recent works ‘Clouds’ that I seriously explored selecting more precise colours. Here I have thought more in psychedelic colours, the colours of the sky, sunrise, violet, pink and yellow. It has been interesting to include these more ‘un-ceramic’ colours.

Bente Skjøttgaard: Purple white cloud no 1002, 2010, Stoneware and glaze, hand built, 37 x 55 x 27 cm. Photo: Ole Akhøj

You are one of the initiators and directors of the Copenhagen Ceramics platform. How did this project start? Tell us more about the objectives of this new Danish movement.

The project Copenhagen Ceramics has been implemented by the ceramic artists Steen Ipsen, Bente Skjøttgaard and Martin Bodilsen Kaldahl, based on having noted that there was no longer any exhibition venue in Copenhagen where the best of the great diversity of ceramic expression existing in Denmark could be shown and experienced ‘live’. Another important aspect of the project is the Internet platform www.copenhagenceramics.com, which we wish to use to disseminate knowledge of Danish ceramics internationally.We have planned the 10 exhibitions for 2012: 4 solo exhibitions, 5 two-man exhibitions and a single group exhibition with six of the best ceramic artists from the younger generation. The individual artists have been selected and linked together in new constellations that enable completely new artistic facets in all of them to emerge – also among those already more established.

What has been the biggest challenge of starting Copenhagen Ceramics?

The greatest challenge was time and money! All three of us are practising ceramic artists in full mid-career, so it was also with a certain amount of hesitation that we threw ourselves into yet another ambitious project. For the time being, we have also only planned one year with Copenhagen Ceramics. That is what we feel we can keep tabs on. And when people ask us: What about next year? We answer: We don’t know! Financially speaking, we have been fortunate enough to have gained initial funding from Danish Crafts and later also from OAK Foundation Denmark, Ellen og Knud Dalhoff Larsens Fond and Danmarks Nationalbanks Jubilæumsfond af 1968.

One of the events organized by CC was a co-exhibition entitled “Cuts and Interventions”, where you exhibited together with Bodil Manz. How would you describe the exhibition, and your collaboration with Bodil?

At first glance, Bodil Manz and I might seem to be diametrically opposed – Bodil’s sophisticated, wafer-thin porcelain works against my rough-hewn, expressive experiments with glaze. But there are also common denominators. The title of the exhibition, ‘Cuts and Interventions’ points towards the way in which we both control materials and the working process.

Bente Skjøttgaard: Frieze P7 no 1209, 1207 and 1210, 2012, Stoneware and glaze, 180 x 45 x 7 cm. Photo: Jeppe Gudmundsen-Holmgreen

What are you currently experimenting in terms of new ceramic approaches and what are your plans for the future?

At the exhibition ‘Cuts and Interventions’ in Copenhagen Ceramics I displayed my latest project: Frise P7.

The frieze is a classic within ceramic decoration that I first felt like referring to in this project, where we are talking about friezes with relief patterns from car tyres – Pirelli P7 tyres, to be precise. Using these, I have explored the possibilities of creating a modern frieze ornamentation.

Stoneware clay with chamotte and fibre are thrown down to form a long track. After that, a car drives slowly through the clay in a single track. A direct imprint. Glazed and fired at 1,280°C. The project was realised at Tommerup Keramiske Værksted on the island of Funen.

Frise P7 is a perpetuated imprint in fired clay of our own Fiat Multipla, and at the same time a very recognisable trace of our own age. The P7 tyre pattern forms a beautiful relief in the clay. The length of the relief is important, bearing in mind that it is to be a frieze, but also because we are dealing with a track, a trace. The relief pattern forms a basis for the ceramic glazes. They can run down into cracks and pull away from edges and thereby accentuate the pattern. In other, the track can be partially camouflaged by a thick layer of glaze. It depends completely on the nature of the glaze to what extent the tracks become prominent. Some more directly than others. Others perhaps more like a pattern that an actual car track. What also interests me is the clash between this mechanical, industrial imprint and the clay. Apart from the ability of clay to perpetuate the imprint, it is a soft, sensual and tactile material. One can also speak of an intervention when the clay is exposed to being directly driven over by a car. Despite this, the friezes are not only violent and expressive but also provide food for quiet contemplation.

The Frise P7 project is of course a continuation of my contribution to the Danish Arts Foundation project ‘Art along Hærvejen’ in 2010, where I let cows of the ‘Jutland cattle’ breed, which used to be driven along the ancient road Hærvejen in the old days, leave imprints of their cloven feet in an approx. 40 sqm red-clay relief, which has now been put down at the Hærvejen nature trail, close to the village of Bække in Central Jutland. And behind this, there is of course a greeting being sent to Asger Jorn’s large-scale ceramics relief from 1959 at Århus Statsgymnasium upper secondary school, where Jorn, as is well known, rode his scooter through the clay while making the work.

Interview by Andra Baban, published in Ceramics Now Magazine, Issue 2.

Visit Bente Skjøttgaard’s website.

View the list of interviews with ceramic artists.