Writer finds inspiration in clay
By Cindy Reitzi
Dick Woppert swirls sensuous curls across his elegant porcelain vase, along the curve and up the lip with a feathered, practiced hand.
Jimmy Price models a snakehead stopper for the jar he’s made to bottle away “inner demons.”
Liz Schank carefully affixes leaf-like wings to her cartoonish “bird house” – a bird-shaped house.
Greg Gustafson assembles garden lanterns, balancing pitched roofs atop walls with meticulously carved apertures reminiscent of Moorish architecture.
Taking in the vast array of whimsy, architecture, puns, and symbolism, I stand in the middle of a professional studio workshop for potters. So, what am I doing here? I’m not a potter; I’m a writer. I was invited by the teacher/ artist who draws artists here each summer. This group, ages 16 to 80, will influence each other in one short week, and perhaps, for the future. I may be witnessing the birth of artistic tradition at the first school of ceramics in the Midwest, Adamah Horizons Clay Studio. Don Hunt, one of its founders, may just be the midwife.
After all, Don has a lot of experience bringing ideas to life in the world. As an art teacher for 34 years (1968-2002), he contributed significantly to the artistic culture of Madison West High School and established traditions that endure: the first Fine Arts Week and pottery auction; the first Madison high school art gallery; plus his continuing contributions to the “Souper Bowl,” a benefit for Habitat for Humanity. When Don retired in 2002, he barely slowed to reminisce about the past; the older Don gets, the more he focuses on the future.
This studio workshop is one of the babies of Adamah (a biblical term meaning “red earth”). Its unique structure is no structure: a week of unscheduled time for artists and teachers to work with clay. But it bears the hallmarks of every clay workshop I’ve attended. Out of all my educator/student experiences, clay workshops most profoundly blur the relationship between teaching and learning. There’s several reasons for this dynamism: the personality of potters, a strong sense of community and the nature of working with clay.
Even though potters with decades of experience mix with rank beginners, there is remarkably little hierarchy. Age also doesn’t determine expertise – the young can be more experienced potters than older participants. Plus, there are as many varieties of artwork as potters.
Bottom line: Even if you’re an overanalyzing writer, potters are encouraging company. During the initial work session, I confessed to Don Hammon, an art teacher, that I pretty much stunk at wheel throwing because I didn’t practice enough.
“I’m not good at it…” I shrugged.
“Yet,” interjected Don. I wasn’t being self-deprecating, just truthful, yet Don’s “yet” was a representative attitude of every workshop I’ve taken – openness to beginners, and a communal, intergenerational, “yes-you-can-learn-this” ethos. This sense of welcome leads quickly to trust, fostering community, open sharing and collaboration. The beginners of today often return next summer.
Perhaps it’s also the nature of clay that lends this mindset. Clay art employs every element: earth and water when molding, fire, sometimes wood, and air when firing. It changes dynamically in texture: from damp and pliable during centering and shaping, to dry and brittle as bisqueware after a first firing, ending as solid pottery after glazing and second firing.
There is also the serendipity of fire that lends it mystery and uncertain outcomes. A potter can’t really predict exactly how a pot will turn out in the fire (or whether it cracks or shatters) but good potters can probably minimize or maximize unpredictability.
Ultimately, potters give up control over creation in ways other artists do not. Tony Winchester, a professional potter, describes this like a spiritual offering: “Potters are more humble than other artists because they have to give it up to the fire.” Face it, ceramics doesn’t attract paralyzed perfectionists. “We’re ‘down to earth’,” Don puns.
At week’s end, we see hints of the future:
- Potters encourage Lisa Glaspie, who has “no formal education in the arts,” to present her first art show this October.
- Teachers return to their classrooms refreshed with new ideas and continued passion.
- 16-year old Alex so impresses Tony that he offers him a one-month apprenticeship.
Years back, I asked Don Hunt how he knew if an idea would last. He replied, “When something has true, fundamental value that you pass on to the next generation, then it doesn’t die. Unique creations withstand time. Otherwise, it’s a gimmick or a fad. You need to turn ownership over to the students and to the community. If you own it personally, if you give it to the community, if it’s not one teacher’s ego or project, then it lasts.”
Indeed, potters are ancestors of the ancients. Long after artifacts of lives deteriorate, buried in the earth, archeologists find … shards. Pottery lasts.
Today's Classroom archives
September 15 , 2006