It was there that I was profoundly struck by the raw beauty of traditional Shigaraki ware, crafted from the region's coarse, untamed clay and fired in ancient anagama kilns and noborigama kilns. This powerful encounter confirmed my commitment to ceramics as a profession, setting me on a path to explore my own artistic voice as a potter, though the exact direction was still unclear.
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My relationship to wood firing has evolved as my role within the firing community has shifted. Learning to let go and give the reins to younger artists has been an interesting experience. I am still doing the work, but now I am also watching others take the lead. I can sit back, drink a cold beverage, and laugh with another old friend while the crew runs circles around me. Being at a wood kiln is my favorite place to be.

The totality of all these varied experiences with so many artists, firings, and kiln designs has given me the confidence to contribute to the ever-evolving train kiln design. Sandeep Manchekar reached out to me after learning about the success of the Bhasma Express built by Khanjan Dalal. He initially was considering an anagama, but Khanjan and I persuaded him to employ the train kiln design because of its superior efficiency.

This month, Studio Potter features archival audio – This audio was summarized by Gerry Williams and published under Grace Hampton's name in Volume 10, Number 2, June 1982. The title of her entry was “Black Crafts,” a section of the series “Mississippi Trace,” which highlights several ceramists living and working in Mississippi.
To follow Studio Potter – The Podcast, simply subscribe or follow on your favorite podcast platform, such as Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Google Podcasts. Then, sit back, relax, and enjoy new episodes as they are released. Happy listening.

By working through puzzles such as building a kiln, a better understanding of the underlying physical principles inherent in our craft is developed, as is a working relationship with materials and the firing process. Further, when things go awry or limitations are met, it is not only a chance to learn but a chance to deviate from the norm and start to develop solutions (and aesthetic directions) previously unseen.

We were interested in directional effects – similar to an anagama – temperature differences that would allow for multiple clay bodies, different flames in different areas that we thought a longer cross-draft kiln would provide. We decided to try to make an affordable cross-draft soda kiln out of free and/or cheap materials.

In trying to sum up my time spent listening, moving brick, tearing down and building up walls, arches, and chimneys, I somehow want to embody all of what this process has offered and still offers me. It’s a dynamic mix of creative, engineering, science, sociology, and even psychology.

To understand the significance of the path he cleared, it is helpful to imagine what this field was prior; largely defined by the applications of Abstract Expressionism, utility, and California Funk. For many, the significance of his message extends beyond the specific nature of the path he created. It is the courage to challenge existing norms that continues to resonate with his students.

Each person is given the opportunity to learn all the aspects of the process, and organically, the whole team starts to lean on an individual for their specific excellence in a certain role in the process. It is my job to recognize these traits and empower that individual to help them enjoy the communal experience of woodfiring as a team player.

As a non-collecting museum on Los Angeles’s historic Miracle Mile, Craft Contemporary has always been a porous space. We are not a vault for objects; we are a vessel for stories, processes, experimentation, and exchange. And in times of social upheaval, our work takes on new meaning.

Somewhere in that chaos, a kind of intimacy forms – not just between potter and fire, but among all the people involved. There is something ancient and elemental about this process. From the slow, calm beginning with a small campfire-like flame, while watching a peaceful sunrise, to the crackling, raging beast that consumes wood by the wheelbarrow load as it reaches its final temperatures. It's communal. A ritual of patience and faith.

Ron taught ceramics for twenty-six years. He spent six years at the University of South Carolina and twenty at the University of Georgia.  Although he had a successful career as a university professor, I think his greatest impact on the world of ceramics came after stepping away from academia.

Now, in his nineties, Ron is one of the few remaining potters of his generation still actively contributing to the field. Ron’s work bridges function and storytelling, humor and humanity. His practice is rooted in tradition, yet never bound by it. As I celebrate his legacy, we must look back with respect and gratitude to those women and men to whom we owe so much.

His strange animals – each one a little offbeat, a little feral – became even better when I learned they were actually portraits of faculty members sketched during meetings. Apparently, everyone was a little angry and bored.

The importance and impact of Ron’s work have worked their casual wonders on so many of us on “The Clay Path.” If the pot is the person, then no pots in my collection express this better than his. The pots are casual, animated, comfortable, informal, and fun to live with. Like the man himself, the pots are authentic.

Artists attracted to this style of program often hold their family, jobs, and local community as their highest values and cannot afford or do not want to leave their “lives” for the three- or four-year commitment that is often the base requirement for an MFA program.  They were hungry to grow as artists and wanted to develop expertise to share with their communities. Students immersed in the low-residency MFA often balance demanding careers, family, and social commitments.

To build a kiln is to invest time, energy, money, and learning in the physical production of our work, and because of the scale of the endeavor, it also usually means one does this labor in community with others. To me, this is the crux of ceramics and a large reason why our field persists as the weird and wonderful place it is; often, we must do our work together, finding friends, relationships, and shared sentiments along the way. A kiln-building project is the perfect site for this exchange.

Whenever I use a specific terra sigillata, I recall the exact location where I collected the clay or, if it was a gift, the person who gave it to me. When I look at the finished pieces, I see the stories carved into them: my travels, my studies, my husband’s support, and the countless individuals who have shared techniques and knowledge with me over the years. In this way, the pots become more than just self-expression – they transform into a communal, land-based narrative.

It is clear from the record of recent conferences, exhibitions, lectures, and MFA program rosters that young artists from Ghana have formed a heretofore unprecedented cohort and are, quite literally, transforming the field of international ceramics.

Through the dense weave of the forest, trees part, revealing glimpses of the Blue Ridge Mountains, rolling endlessly into the horizon. Farmland unfurls across Floyd County like a homesteader’s dream. As you round the bend, a pink and yellow sign beckons – your next destination awaits – one of six stops on the 16 Hands Fall Studio Tour.

This exhibition explores the dynamic ways in which ceramics can hold stories – of tradition, transformation, and self-discovery. Studio Potter features seven of these distinct stories. Whether hand-built or wheel-thrown, these works do more than represent; they recount, preserve, and invite us to reflect.

Our plan was to stick around in the studio all day long, with fresh blocks of clay and forms left unmade, but when it came time to throw what felt like our last pieces, I couldn’t bring myself to allow today to feel like an ending.

You've all heard Sana speak so deeply, confidently, and movingly; it's been interesting over the last couple of days to see how nervous you get, Sana. About speaking and presenting, you're one of the most powerful presenters and speakers that I've ever experienced, and I hope that that carries through with everyone here. So, I hope that you can all be inspired by overcoming your own nervousness and know that people who are powerful human beings still have that nervousness.

On July 28th, 2022, for the first time in almost 500 years, we, the Indigenous Muyscas of Colombia, created Tunjos using a traditional metal casting technique. We engaged in a practice that hadn’t been seen, felt, or heard of in centuries. Words lack the ability to communicate the pride, joy, and sense of empowerment we all felt.

Intrigued by the fusion of AI with the visual arts, I examined artworks driven by words, exploring unconventional compositions and scenarios. This exploration extended to the walls of my studio, where I crafted intricate pictures of roots sprouting from frames, blurring the lines between art and nature. Meanwhile, my curiosity led me into the realm of artificial intelligence and its visual possibilities.

I think that as ceramic artists, we are always looking for acceptance, relevancy, and validation, if not from ourselves but from others both within and outside of our community. How we define acceptance, relevancy, and validation is, of course, different for each of us. I remember in a much earlier Studio Potter issue, Mary Barringer spoke of “longer threads of meaning in our work.” I always look for such concepts in my work, and after my lengthy career and small achievements, I still try to maintain some degree of relevance.

So what does the future hold for ceramics in Senegal for younger generations if the traditions, crafts-woman-ship, knowledge, and material culture cease to exist?

"I remained haunted as I wound the dozens of ramps that ascend through the rest of the museum. Past the Buffalo Soldiers, a replica of Emmet Till’s funeral, the Freedom Riders, and Obama’s inauguration. Rising. Up. Up. Up. Back into the light." This month's FREE article!

In each creation, I strive to capture the essence of joy, offering a glimpse into my journey of finding happiness amidst life's challenges. Through these ceramic pieces, I hope to share the laughter, positivity, and simple joys that have transformed my perspective.

We watched in deep appreciation of our contribution to the hive of the restaurant: bussers moved towers of our snack bowls from storage to the bar; chefs rapidly plated dish after dish on the pasta bowls I designed in close collaboration with them; waiters flitted from table to table, dropping off and picking up our custom-made bread plates. The restaurant comped the entire evening’s festivities and a spark finally caught fire inside of me – I wanted to do this forever.

Choosing a side between two groups of people who are in tremendous pain is only helping to polarize our beautiful community.

Staying silent in the face of violence against civilians in Gaza, half of whom are children, is an unforgivable act. I hope that learning about the rich history of Gaza and the Palestinian people contextualizes our struggle and humanizes us as people who want to live freely.

During my experiences, I thought about a church song’s chorus: “You are the potter and I am the clay, make me and mold me, this is what I pray.” My theology has always been about wrestling with the text and interpretation. My background in wheel throwing, in particular, sheds new light on this Biblical metaphor.

Contemplating specific qualities of handmade ceramics fosters connections, embodies values, and provides comfort. I look to my experiences, both as a maker and as a user. Some memories trace back to my childhood, while others are more recent, rooted in conversations with those who integrate functional ceramics into their daily lives.

If Shaner has an agenda, it is authenticated in the materials he works with, rather than existing apart from them, as doctrine, myth, or abstraction. At the same time, he supports environmental, peace, and human rights issues with the same passionate dedication he brings to the studio. Compassion and empathy, said to be important components in the making of strong functional pots, are equally active in Shaner's sense of himself as a family member and global citizen.

It's beauty in the way that the beauty of our surroundings is created through natural forces. Undulations in sand that have been moved by the wind, rock formations caused by landslides, and the crackle and patina in the wall of an old house; all these owe their special beauty to the random hand of nature.

There are pots that have an extra something that makes them so exciting. Pots are interesting in that there is tension between the inside and outside. Sometimes, we can sense parts of the pot before picking them up, and other times, we are surprised by what is revealed upon closer examination.

What makes a beautiful pot?
The same thing that makes a beautiful person. Confidence.

The sculptural vessels I first began creating had the same idea as their historical custom and the traditional idea of the photograph: to create a cavity within a physical shell that could hold a particular component, a record, or proof of a specific event or moment in time.

Thanks to my father’s advice, I threw caution to the wind and gave myself permission to fail, and that was what allowed me to succeed.

Through the lens of Ulf's experience as a combat veteran and at the top of a mountain, he illustrates how warfare becomes a mirror of our everyday lives. He offers a unique perspective on the convergence of trauma and creativity. Understanding why Ulf's writing has value in a pottery publication is more about my human experience and the way I think as a combat veteran. Communicating what it was like and what life is like now is incredibly hard and enigmatic.

Mexican folk art is the most pervasive influence in my artwork. Whether incorporated in my ceramic installations or mixed-media quilts, the compositional strategies of Mexican folk art and religious shrines are at the root.

Over time, I began to notice how working with clay became an allegory for changes that I have observed in the creation, duration, and entropy of human relationships, the environment, and architecture.

The final resting place of these effigies became an ancestral grove, "till the yard smells of ghosts," until it was disrupted by colonialism. For that, I grieve for the disturbed lost souls but rejoice that a child of the diaspora reconnects with the echo of home.

And then the unthinkable happened.

My father passed away suddenly during my second semester, which drastically impacted the way I thought about my work – what I was making and why I was making it. Coming from a thinking-through-making experience at CSULB, it seemed the exact opposite was true at UCLA. Everyone was reading Derrida, Solnit, and Lacan – gathering ideas and metaphors as the first step to realizing a piece. I, however, was in mourning, and I needed to rely on my practice to offer respite and on literature to offer answers to questions that have plagued humanity since the beginning of consciousness. Mourning became my life’s work. It was tragically difficult and incredibly lonely.

It was during Steven’s Throwing Gestural Forms workshop that Katie, an entrepreneur and busy mother of two, learned about The Journey Workshop. "It’s a big investment, not just financially but also in time," she shared. "I knew from my previous experience of being in Steven’s classes what a wonderful teacher he is, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to follow through with this time commitment. I reached out to some people who I knew had previously participated in The Journey to learn more. Many of them were already signed up to do it again, which spoke volumes about the kind of growth they found from the experience."

I didn’t mean to come here; I "knew" about Jingdezhen, of course, about blue and white pots and porcelain, but I’ve never been a person in love with clay in THAT way. I fall into the "clay is a material" camp of ceramic artists and thought that Jingdezhen was a place for people more in the "clay is life from the earth" wing. I was wrong, and coming here was the best thing I’ve ever meant not to do.

"The problem that I saw or sensed was that these are very contemporary and personal problems that the modern woman faces. I wanted to speak to these dilemmas through my artistic process." – Noe Kuremoto

As I look ahead to life after the military, I find myself reflecting more on a career that was unexpectedly full of art. By honoring those with whom I served and their families, I was able to grow as an artist and, for the most part, keep up with art industry trends. I realized that even though I enjoyed my time as a soldier, whether good or bad, I was happiest whenever the things I was doing involved art.

"In the clay, I surrender to something bigger than myself. I search for a correspondence or even a merging with the material when my body becomes clay and clay a body, and the boundary between inside and outside, body and mind, dissolves." This month's FREE article!

Making pots from the same earth that grows our food is important; I want my work to connect the user to the place that sustains them.

Founded in 2017, The Seed Bank Project honors the perspectives of individuals and their connections to specific regional lands and regional plants. Part of the mission is to create artwork that is accessible beyond the gallery, putting local voices and the community first.

These objects have held the full spectrum of my life’s experiences, but perhaps the greatest catalysts have also been my greatest challenges.

For the uninitiated, get a campfire lit and gather ‘round. I’ll start: "I was washing the dishes when suddenly the phone rang..." Now it’s your turn to be a storyteller. Where will you take the story in your next sentence?

My work often stems from my identity as a Mexican American woman and my personal family history. My interest in creating these objects arose from my fear of these processes – processes such as traditions in cooking, sharing a meal, language, and other daily rituals – being lost and forgotten through the generations; processes such as traditions in cooking, sharing a meal, language, and other daily rituals.

So many emotions flooded me: pure joy, contentment, and the satisfaction of a wholesome journey. This month's FREE article.

Black Lives Matter; my life matters, and sharing my mission to continue documenting marginalized people's histories and advocating for positive change is what matters to me as an artist and educator. This process can begin in the landscape of a neighborhood where people learn to live together in harmony.

"Life has a particular orography.
The gravitational forces that sediment our biographies are a complex brew of time and memory. The awe and fascination with which we experience our journey collide, more often than not, with the harshness of the terrain. In this constant flow of becoming, we crave order."
November's FREE article.

When I bring in a tea bowl to my class that Don and E.T. made, they are still teaching; they are still there at my side. Students hold these objects, and I get to tell my many stories about these guys. A picture doesn't do that. Only ceramic objects with the makers' energy can do that. We need more of those cherished pieces in the world.

It was a moment in time, at a remote place in the middle of the rural Midwest USA, where three potters from far apart streams segued into one river. Before the current era of divisiveness, before the great illness that plagued the planet, beyond neighbor fighting neighbor, and before the world began to split apart, these potters, Joy Brown, Ching-Yuan Chang, and Ken Bichell, brought gifts of clay, fire, and spirit.

"This is a legacy project around wood-fired ceramics that will create a depth of knowledge in the region with our students and artists. Each new artist that comes to load, fire, and share their process of wood-firing will add a layer of knowledge that we will be able draw on and share as a community well into the future."

"I could search for a storyline that would ground my practice and allow my work to be a new chapter in a long-running series. But I think it best to choose the stories I want to leave behind. For me that includes sea stories, tea, and any odds or ends that make me smile and reach for that cup in a sea of cups in an overstuffed cupboard."

The interior design is minimal, the space – easily transformed. The objects do not dominate the space,yet everything operates in support of their display. Carefully arranged, a context is created. The showcase is a microcosm of Atelier Parter’s latest production.

Robbie Lobell and Maryon Attwood are looking to forge new directions for Cook on Clay. Like the rest of the world, they are asking themselves a lot about transition these days. What does retirement look like for a craftsperson in 2022? How does one navigate from the pounding rhythm of production into a slower beat and still afford life?

The name Roxanne Swentzell may conjure sculptural images in your mind, but she is more than that. “We’re all sensing our world in unique ways; that’s scary for people who want to think we’re not diverse and unique. But even though we’re all part of this whole thing together, there are real differences in experiences. Allowing ourselves to acknowledge that will help us start to have self-respect, to give quality attention to our own unique selves, or others, in ways the label world doesn’t."

Resigned to the role of interloper, I show up to a firing with my modest collection of objects, sleep on the floor, and take the night shifts. All worth it because the information left on an object through wood-firing is something I respond to deeply.

Most people who move to Silicon Valley for work do so to work in technology; I moved there to teach ceramics. While many of the tech firms here have built their business models around the buzzy ideals of "disruption," I, too, feel a kinship with a model that pushes up against norms and creates new models of looking at the world, or in my case, mugs. My version of disruption is not about maximizing corporate profit; it's about finding new ways to see familiar objects.

Centering is a lifelong discipline that demands consistent practice, which is akin to spiritual practices across many world cultures. I've always taught wheel-throwing by emphasizing the tangible and physical parts. Method, form, and position need to become habit. In Japan, I always tell students, it is said you are not yet a potter until you make your first 1,000 pots. This adage is a commitment we make to ourselves about what kind of life we want, and it is a foundation for me.

Pottery wasn't made when there were threats of war and bloodshed. When examining ancient sherds and tool marks, one can sense the kind of peace and calm that it took to make long, unwavering parallel lines, to notch the rims with careful repeating indentations, and to spend the time making what was to become more than a simple container. It was a life-providing vessel used to feed the next generations.

On February 24th, at about five o'clock in the morning, we were awakened by the sounds of explosions. As the sun rose, the smoke from the explosions became visible. FREE ARTICLE!

Make more art. That is what I thought I could do if I helped fellow potters ship their artwork. I'd save them money, they could buy more supplies and make MORE ART. That simple phrase ended up taking me on an exciting and life-changing journey. Today, for example, I have an artist that built their Uline crate inside their house only to find it is too large to pass through their doorway. Oh, those darn details.

On December 26, 2021, I held my breath as I dialed her number, hoping she would be satisfied and feel the pleasure of completion I was feeling. She laughed and said, "They are all done." We shared the joy of feeling the fulfillment of her artistic dream. We talked about each sculpture and admired them, and I made sure they were what she wanted. We talked about her upcoming birthday party on February 5, where I would help her present them to the last two-family groups.

The conference theme, Fertile Ground, references California's agriculture and the Farm to Fork movement, acknowledges the abundance of clay in the state, and celebrates intergenerational artistic growth spawned through academic programs and community art centers. We kept working on these projects and more while remaining hopeful that the Sacramento conference would indeed take place in person in 2022. Rallying the involvement of artists, galleries, and other art venues that were new to NCECA was a highlight. I encouraged their exhibition ideas, supported their inquiries, and fostered their participation in one of the largest art events to ever take place in the Sacramento region. FREE ARTICLE!

Tattooing sings many notes parallel to the song of ceramics. Like ceramics, tattoo craftmanship exposes the fluency and experience of the maker. Drawing and putting in a great line is an example of fine craftsmanship. Pairing exceptional line work with the individual’s conceptual engagement of image elevates the craft, just as the potter’s concept of a mug elevates the form.

Being an apprentice has humbled me in understanding again what is to be a beginner, what it feels like to not know everything, to make mistakes and to learn from them. I see the apprenticeship is teaching me lessons that are helping me become a better human being.

Every risk has added to my development as an artist and human being. It’s the little things, the fragments of the journey, that make the destination that much more fruitful.

I looked her dead in the eye as I resentfully told her, “I will never be a potter.”

I’m speaking for myself; [Chicano] resonates with me and gives me a sense of belonging I couldn’t find before.

Awake and distraught. Rather than charging, my phone has drained to a dim 2%. I remind myself that I’m not superstitious. By 9:30 AM, I’m fully set up, my power bank, phone, and Square are all communicating. I find some courage, hang my sign. Ready.

My family’s story has been one of resilience and hope, of making the most from the least, and of appreciating the smallest of things.

“When I get to be by myself with the kiln and be in the process of it, I feel like I can hear my thoughts a little better. I have time to hear my responses to what's going on with the fire. What an amazing thing to try to learn. The whole experience, the sound, the sight, the physicality of it, and the sky, having to be outside – I think I fell in love with a squirrel once. There is so much quiet and so many opportunities to pay attention... That’s just such an amazing gift.” -Meredith Kunhardt

An intimate sense of materials allows a place to influence my work and to fix the unique nature of a place into my memory.

I found a bat with her handprint on it. It was a bit uncanny – just how perfect it was. I keep it right above my wheel, leaned on a little ledge of brick. She was and will forever be fundamental to my connection to pottery. I know my grandmother would be proud of the potter I am today.

She apparently needed us, but so did we need her. She was earthbound, and, like us in our pandemic prison, unable to go far. But if she could break free, then perhaps so could we shed ourselves of this hermetic existence and return to our kettle.

The time away from career obligations has allowed my thoughts to freely wander from present to past to future.

A kiln lies at the center of this story, a brick arch built on a concrete slab next to a needing-to-be-painted red barn.

"As I interpret it, Keats’s idea speaks to the endeavor to share a vision of artistic beauty even when it leads to intellectual uncertainty. True beauty lies in ambitious uncertainty. Negative capability encourages artists to boldly explore a world of uncertainty – a world where there are no clear-cut distinctions. This is a world where authentic work can be done."

"My worldview as an artist has grown and changed. I no longer think of art in terms of craft, livelihood, discipline, practice, or process. Art is BISQUE. Believe, Include, Sustain, Question, Understand, and Evolve; I am all this."

"I don’t think we can escape the complexities of our history. My small life experience can be extrapolated in any direction to encompass many different stories and people from all over our country and world. Our human histories are woven, complex, and blurry."

"I may start with some ideas and questions, but the wisdom is in the soil, just like the wisdom is in the clay. This properly humbles me, reminds me what my capabilities are, what my limitations are, and how generous the material is, how fortunate I am to continue exploring."

“I think anybody can get really good at anything they’re interested in at any age if they have a good mentor and spend enough time doing it.”

In the year of the suffragette centennial, a passionate collector lifts up women ceramists and considers the aesthetics of her holdings against the backdrop of her quarantine garden, "As often as I have the opportunity, I proclaim it time to aggressively advocate for the commitment of art institutions, collectors, schools, and professional associations to support women clay artists..."

...take leaps of faith to experiment, during this time while no one is around to watch.

Studio Potter dedicates this story to all the teachers and students returning to the studio classroom this fall, whatever that may look like for you.

The kiln temperature was crawling past 2100 degrees Fahrenheit and we were running out of wood. It felt like we weren’t going to make the last two hundred degrees.

“What is normal to the spider, is chaos to the fly.”

I thought it was important to see Black folk dancing, loving, teaching, and playing on pots, because I felt our life and joy was not something you expect to see on pots with depicted narratives.

I have defined happiness as being at peace. I am at peace with myself while working on my sculptures in the studio. All life’s problems are still in my mind, but working in clay puts them in pause. I feel excited, productive, and with a purpose in life, but in these uncertain times the connection to my artwork feels different. Baking sourdough bread has become another way to be at peace with myself.

The connection between ceramics and food came with just a four-letter word: salt.

Seeing the problem of woodfiring’s lack of exposure and accessibility to the general public, I set out to find a solution that provided engagement in this immersive experience to my immediate community.

Light streamed into the dimly lit world of my convictions, and with it, in time, came myriad possibilities...

In sharing my story of managing depression as an artist, I intend to break down some of the isolation caused by trauma ... and reveal how well-being and creativity share a symbiotic relationship.

Writing a new book is like a new love. Initially, you find yourself infatuated. You can’t stop thinking about it, and you feel driven to talk about it. But the more you do, the more you see your family and friends’ eyes glaze over, and you decide it would be better for your real relationships if you divert your talking to writing.

Pots come to life when they are in use at the table and kitchen sink. The story of how pots come to us and worm their way into our lives can be an added bonus.

“The Cup Library was created by students and faculty working with the Ceramics Apprenticeship Program as a creative response to a perceived community understanding of functional ceramics as an economic commodity.”

Un-Broken, the essay, is a record of myself and an offering to my family while I am alive.

"I have been a student of the possibilities of the materials ... So many variables, so many decisions to make, and so many opportunities to make them. You learn failure is a part of success. Just like not every play will work as drawn out on paper, not every pot will make it through the process as desired, but each time you learn something that feeds into the next attempt. You are playing the law of averages. If you keep at it, something will start to work out."

At a very early age, I was orphaned and placed into the closed adoption industry. In 2018, I was able to secure my true identity. My studio practice has been the key to building a bridge to my past while constructing a future with the family I thought I had lost forever. For all those non-believers out there, it turns out that art does have the power to change lives. It certainly did mine.

Being on a platform; as, kind of, the token transgender individual in the clay community takes its toll. When I lectured at NCECA in 2017 on the panel "Gendered Clay," I had no idea what would happen. I could only tell my own story. I thought it was worth sacrificing my anonymity.

This past fall, I needed to learn how to make plates. Specifically, plates similar in form and decoration to those from Staffordshire, England, in the early 1800s.

Many of the challenges we are facing are not that different than those our mentors dealt with in academia. The next generation is becoming responsible for continued reshaping of the field, as they strive to uphold the standards and beliefs of our predecessors, while also trying to adapt to an ever-changing culture.

Pottery often has a relationship to its environment, from the wild clay potters of North Carolina to regional aesthetics like the ubiquitous Minnesota brown pot. Like most people these days, potters are also concerned with climate change.

If Bernard’s Leach’s A Potter’s Book was the old testament for many aspiring studio potters internationally, Daniel Rhodes’ Clay and Glazes for the Potter was the new testament for those living in North America.

There is satisfaction in developing the best iterations of a form, creating an aesthetic harmony among them, and making decisions that fulfill my desires for their function as utilitarian objects.

I come from a large family: fifty-seven first cousins, and each of them have children of their own. Early on, I knew that I wanted to be a father—apart from my knack for the ill-advised pun.

‘On Earth, time is marked by the sun and moon, by rotations that distinguish day from night that had led to clocks and calendars. The present was a speck that kept blinking, brightening, and diminishing, something neither alive or dead. How long did it last? One second? Less? It was always in flux; in the time it took to consider it, it slipped away.’

- Jhumpa Lahiri "The Lowland"

I used to go to craft fairs. I remember going to the first Richmond craft fair, where I was the only black ceramics exhibitor. As I remember it, for a long time at NCECA conferences, Jim Tanner, James Watkins, and Richard Buncamper, and maybe two or three more African American students I did not know and I were the only blacks. White people would often come by at fairs and say, "You do ceramics? I've never heard of anyone black doing ceramics." I'd say, "Well, you haven't been around." Of course, I knew a lot of blacks doing ceramics.

We’re moving closer and closer to that craftsman ideal but as a collective rather than as individuals. As a group, we are presenting our best in the spirit of social consciousness. We are honoring the traditions of the craft. We are passing knowledge on.
Can shokunin apply to a collective?
There is craft not only in the creation of pottery but also in the creation of community. We’re striving for both.

When students rush into the classroom in the morning, beaming with excitement about a new technique they saw on Instagram, something good is happening. They are hooked on ceramics and fully engaged in the process.

My dreams enabled a strong sense of empathy and openness to different ways of thinking. They have fueled a fearless, and sometimes reckless, desire for new experiences. They have allowed me to visualize possibilities and embrace opportunities.

It was maybe 10 years ago that I was talking with a book editor who asked what I was working on. I told him, but then said, impulsively, that what I wanted to do most was a book on functional pottery.

What was most hurtful about this experience wasn't the flurry of remarks disregarding my craft but more so the fact that I recognized that my art and concepts were not accessible to the people they were widely intended for. I believe artwork should have the capacity to be appreciated from many perspectives. Whether it's the craftsmanship, aesthetic beauty, or concept driving the work, there should be many avenues to invite a viewer to engage with the artwork and artist. This month's FREE article.