A friend from the Cincinnati Art Museum approached me about teaching a clay class as part of the Museum’s Art for Life initiative.  We talked over what they wanted and I readily agreed. They hired me to teach several sessions of claywork at a senior living center in Mason, as part of a community engagement and enrichment program. I have experience teaching adult and children’s workshops, and I was confident that we would have an entertaining, fun class. 

     My first day of instructing was with the long-term care residents, many of these folks are in wheelchairs, and some have memory problems.  When I first saw my students, I have to admit I felt a bit dismayed. I worried that I may not be able to reach them. Several people sat staring off into space, seeming unaware of me or the planned activity. One woman sat quite still in her wheelchair with her eyes closed, her hands curled into claws from the swollen joints of arthritis. Later I learned she was named Harriet.

  For these classes I gave a short slide talk and introduction to clay work.  Then we plunged right in and began working, making a pinch pot of air-dry clay.  As I explained the process and made a few small example pots, I noticed Harriet. To my surprise, she was concentrating, working intently pinching up her pot. Her fingers worked the clay with what must be long-remembered skill, in spite of her stiff joints. The nursing aides, a few volunteers, and I went around the room helping the senior residents make pinch pots.

   When I got back to Harriet, another surprise awaited.  Harriet had made a sweet little pinch pot. I asked her if I could hold it for a minute and she agreed. I held up the pot and explained to the group that Harriet had made a very nice pot. It was a good example - the shape was perfect, lovely, in fact, and the walls were even all through the pot. The class members spontaneously applauded Harriet, and her face beamed with a wide smile.

   Many of the long-term care residents have lost a lot to age. For some residents in their late eighties and older, health, memory, even walking have long been gone. I work with them, using simple methods we make pinch pots in clay. Then surprise them as we turn the pots into a cat sculpture. For a while they are caught up making something new and unexpected.

   We laugh, praise, and tease each other. Midway through, their pride and pleasure in making artwork is tangible. The positive energy draws in people who meant to pass by. A few more residents came over and began working with the clay. We laughed at the class rebel, the man who made a basket instead of a cup. We had more laughs, and many smiles, through the course of the morning. The residents, and the class, had a happy kind of energy that I often experience when working with clay.  At the end, I ask, “Did you think you would be making sculpture when you got up this morning?” They smile, shaking their heads no.

   As we cleaned up the room later, one of the aides commented that Harriet usually does not come to events. They were happy when she agreed to come to the clay event.  That Harriet could make nice pots was a surprise, and it meant a lot to everyone to see her with a big smile, and enjoying herself. She said the class seemed to just make everyone’s day.  I know it made mine.  Such is the nature of Art for Life.  Making art provides a rich experience for instructor and students. 

   Thank you, Cincinnati  Art Museum. The Art for Life initiative is a well worthwhile program that helps bring art experiences to a broad audience. Through the Art Museum program, our small group shook off daily cares and physical problems. We became sculptors for a while. We made art. It was good.  

  Sincerely,       Denny Means

A Slip Bucket Challenge!

  Like many people, photos of Peter Voulkos at work fascinated me.  Voulkos was not only a great artist, but a great showman as well. Photos of him at the wheel generally showed a ceramic slip bucket – not metal, not plastic. – A simple thing that sent a significant message: What other material would a real potter use for his slip bucket?

So, like generations of potters before me, I made one for my own use. I like my clay bucket; it fits beside the wheel nicely. When I did a throwing demonstration for a school class, the kids and adults commented on the clay bucket with appreciation. Lately, I realized that my bucket could be improved. So, I made another one, taller, with loopy handles. It goes beyond utilitarian and has a liveliness that entertains me. Good, but I thought you can do better than that!

   Consider the wonderful wooden toolboxes that a carpenter apprentice would make for himself as he graduated to journeyman. Great workmanship, intricate notches and cutouts, and the best quality they were capable of doing. Yes, making such a toolbox was time consuming. Which is part of the statement of the craftsman: Here is my best work; I make this thing for myself because I can, and I prize this example of my own work.

   Still using plastic? Pahhh!  I throw down the gauntlet! Potters of the world arise! Throw off the shackles dull, soulless, serviceable, plastic slip buckets! Make you own ceramic slip bucket. A statement that you consider your work worth owning and using for a mundane purpose. Make it simple or make it weird decorative, over the top. Slab-built or thrown. Finished dimensions of about 7 – 8 in. diameter by at least 6 in. high works on my wheel, but your solution will vary. As usual, all answers are not included - you decide what works for your slip bucket.

  Now, I know lots of you, and generations of potters, have made and used clay buckets for many years. Good on ya! The difference here is to put a picture out there for other potters to see – perhaps you can even organize a Slip Bucket Exhibit to be shown at the local Empty Bowls Event, or another venue frequented by potters. Another difference is  perhaps to approach the vessel as a fair example of your work. Ah, good work made just for our own use. Decadent! Self-indulgent.  Not an efficient use of time. Part of the point is that ceramic slip buckets fly in the face of the contemporary trend of every object at least cost and maximum efficiency. Something about that statement fits well with being a potter. Plus, using less plastic saves oil!

  The Cincinnati Slip Bucket Exhibit:

Saturday, May 5^th at the Cincinnati Clay Alliance Spring Fair – Laura Davis, esteemed manager of the Wheel Throwing Demonstration Area will receive your slip bucket and put it on a shelf for display during the Fair. Bring your piece and show it, many of us would like to see how other folks explore the problem. Buckets are displayed at your own risk, and items in this area are not intended for sale to the public. You deliver and pick up your bucket on the day of the fair.  We will take photos of the entries and put them up on the web someplace for others to see.

 Regards, Denny Means

  The Wal-Mart mentality versus quality handmade – which side do we choose to be on with our own mundane objects?

  P.S. So I’ve got a few less than stellar slip bucket attempts in bisque. I’m thinking about the scrap pile for ‘em when Mary comes in and says; “Oh, what nice planters you’re making!”  You have to love that gal! So, I’ll sell those things as garden planters – it turns out not to be so inefficient after all.

“The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him – it cannot fail…” _ Walt Whitman.

  At the last few shows, I have been doing an interesting experiment, and may cast ripples in unknown directions.

_ I give away a mug. 

The mug comes with one condition: use it for a while, then give it away. Each recipient can use the mug for a while, then pass it along, in no more than a year. Each time the mug is given it is to be given with the requirement: use it, then give it away within a year.  Importantly, it has to be a good, functional mug, suitable for daily use. Not a “second.”  Part of the gift's equity is the foregone income from the sale of a first-line mug.

I enclose a card that explains the purpose of the gift is to reconnect us with an ancient tradition of many aboriginal cultures – to possess is to give.  Our objects are many, and we give them away. By doing so we encourage a circle of good will and community ties.

The people in our group of the traveling mug can consider for a moment, the nature of transactions. – Once there was a time when all property was not bought and sold. The culture shared abundance freely. ( Somewhat like the sharing of knowledge practiced among potters.)

   The idea of a traveling gift mug comes from the Lewis Hyde book, “The Gift.” Where Hyde explores the nature of transactions and how art often occupies the space of gifts rather than simple property. Energy comes from the sharing, the passing along of a simple object. Part of passing along the mug is sacrificing one’s desire to affect the future outcome for the mug. Some will go on; others will stop. That is not optimum, but it is OK.

   My way is to give the mug to a stranger, usually a person who expressed interest in my work, or in the mugs. At a studio sale, one woman was admiring a smaller raku bowl, indicating she would love to have it. I said, “Well, today is the day to take it home.” She could not, indicating she had a very tight budget at the time. She said, “If  I’m meant to have it, then it will be here next month.” This exchange, her difficulties, and her graceful acceptance of what may come affected me.

I asked for her help with an experiment in commerce. Then gave her a mug, with a little card and the Whitman quote on it. We discussed the condition that went with the mug: use it for a while; then give it away, in no more than one year. Each person receiving the mug is to agree to the requirement: use it, then give it away.  She happily agreed. We were both happy with the experience.

We experienced the truth from Hyde’s book, “the circulation of the gift(s) within the community that leads to increase--- increase in connections, increase in relationship strength." An experiment in sharing abundance. Made to conflict with the norms of buying and selling, hoarding and scarcity. Weird commerce.

   The experiment in sharing abundance has led to unexpected changes. For a good while, I disliked making mugs – they are so labor intensive, and I’m not the fastest at making them. I thought; “Poor me, I can’t sell a mug at a high enough price to justify the labor. So much work to sell for so little.” I have gotten faster at making mugs; but that is not the biggest change. The change is within. Now, I look forward to making mugs. I love to make mugs, to get in the groove. Throw the shape, push out that little bump, pull the handles, informed by muscle memory. Brain and body caught up in the music, the tasks of making, the idea of folks using the mug and savoring the handmade object.

Making the mugs, creating enough to share abundance is now the important thing. Not the sales price. Surprise – my mugs got to be better work. (See Whitman quote.)

  I typically give only one mug away per show.  Occasionally, a second mug begins its journey. I do not want to poison the market for mug sales, and I don’t want to be known as the sucker with free mugs. I make the gift discreetly, and sometimes ask the recipient to keep it confidential while at the show.  A maximum of, say 12 – 15 gift mugs per year.

   I can’t think of a way to make the mug design show evidence of its travels without undermining the function of the mug. If you come up with an idea, let me know.

A traveling gift mug may have no more effect than a small pebble in a big pond.  Yet, it seems like a worthwhile experiment. Plus, it feels good, and is somehow anti-establishment. People get a kick out of this aspect of the gift mug. Folks like the idea they are participating in a experiment, helping you in a way. This reduces the burden of accepting the gift.

   A potter friend of mine, Gayle Bair, wrote this little verse to include with the mug:

Gayle Bair’s poem:   This mug given brings a smile

                    to be passed to another in a while.

                     Receiver becomes giver with this token

                     and the chain of smiles remain unbroken.

  Let me know how you do with this idea, how you change it to make it work for your ways of doing things.

Now, back to another point made by Walt Whitman, the sign he kept on his desk read: “Make the Work.”

Denny Meanshttp://home.earthlink.net/~crookedtreepots/

Pottery - the Art Form for the 21^st Century!

  In a column on art for the 21^st century, Wall St. Journal columnist Daniel Henninger makes the point that it is time to escape from 20^th century art. Modernism, represented by Duchamp’s urinal, was a reaction to the industrial age and  “its most important cultural values included discordance, challenge, collision, violation, confusion. This is wholly out of sync with what people want or need in the current age.”  We live now in the computer age. An age that is fast, sometimes frantic; on many levels of life, it is relentless. We face the need to constantly reboot , relearn and move quicker.

  “Everyone in the world watched the second World Trade Center Tower fall in real time, and will do so the next time. The world we inhabit now is Iraq, Sudan, tsunami, weapons of mass destruction, Rwanda, Bosnia, Beslan. Knowing - and seeing with our own eyes - so much that is so bad is not normal. We don't need to be shocked by art. We now live in a constant state of shock. We cannot hide from the world as it is, and should not. But we need respite. And sometimes we need solace.”

“To see what our age needs, go to Rome. …The 21^st century need that one finds (in Rome) is not merely beauty. Beauty still sits in the eye of the beholder, and the 20^th century produced much that is beautiful. What one finds in Rome are the esthetic values of the High Renaissance – proportion, harmony and balance. What that produces – so different than Duchamp’s influence - is what we need: Respite.”  1

   Why does this matter to potters? The esthetic values of proportion, harmony and balance are key elements of the pots many of us make. These values produce ceramics  valued for the respite and solace it provides people. Consider your favorite mug: we value the form for its balance, proportion and harmony with its purpose. Using our favorite mug is something of a ritual, and gives us a moment of respite and solace as we use it. 

The inescapable conclusion: Pottery is The Art Form for the 21^st century! Our handcrafted work offers people products made with intention and attention to  proportion, harmony and balance. Use of our product allows the customer moments of contemplation and respite. For our knowledgeable customers, part of the satisfaction of using pottery comes from the understanding that a potter is out there, investing the time to make these things. Knowing the potter continues an ancient craft provides solace to the harried denizens of this age. Making pottery is counter to the increasing pace of the 21^st century, yet using pottery offers the respite needed in this age.

   All we have to do now is educate people and let them know pottery is The Art Form of the 21^st century!   When we are through, our future is assured, and we'll be able to afford the trip to Rome!(??) Wouldn't that be great!

Denny Means

http://home.earthlink.net/~crookedtreepots/

Raku Workshop

As the kiln reached temperature, Denny opens the top. The watching potters go “Ohhhh!” at their first sight of the pots, glowing orange-hot at nearly 1900 degrees.

Sarah and Josh walk to the kiln, which is radiating fierce heat. Heat quickly penetrates through their clothing, adding urgency to their moves. Each picks up a pot with their tongs. Moving quickly, they set pots into waiting metal cans. Flames shoot up as the hot pottery instantly ignites paper in the cans. Sarah speeds back to the kiln, picking up another pot. Josh steps back to the kiln and does the same.

Three trips to the kiln, pots safely in the cans; lids on the cans. Duration; perhaps 40 seconds. Suddenly tired, sweating, relieved, happy, and proud - nine potters exchange smiles and looks of acknowledgement. Each has played a part. Faced unfamiliar roles and succeeded. The intensity of the experience charges them with enthusiasm for the next kiln cycle.

    The kiln is loaded and closed to start the next load. After smoking/reducing the first pots in cans, the group is ready to unload. Lids removed, pots pulled out – a chorus of “Ahhh’s.” Then plunge pots into tubs of water. Soon the work cools enough to handle. The potters examine each piece. Matt copper with a blush of blue, elusive purple, and some glossy coppers draw exclamation and remark. Compliments and excited chatter are exchanged as each admires the creation of another.  Anticipation for the results of the next load builds.

   Multiple kiln loads are fired as the afternoon wears on. In a groove of satisfying work, the potters have become a team, and friends. Now confident in taking turns with unfamiliar roles, they enjoy the process. For some of the potters, it is the first time to personally see their work fired. A Raku firing is very up close, personal, and directly links potter with kiln. They will take a new understanding of “heat work” with them after today.

   Late afternoon, the rain stops threatening and begins to come down. One load remains to be fired – well, another day, Denny and Mary, the hosts, will fire it tomorrow. Students rebel – “no way! Let’s keep going! What’s a little rain? We’ll dry off!” They are united, and unanimous. The kiln is loaded. The rain passes. The last load comes out spectacularly well, with great colors on the pots, even some bits of gold.

The workshop students linger as they load their pots for travel. Other duties, timetables, and commitments call them, but they are slow to leave, savoring the day for a little while longer. Eventually they say goodbye, promising we will do it again soon.

We sure hope to – it was good.

Denny Means

Comment from one participant:

“Thanks so much for the workshop… We had a fantastic time! … awesome!” 

“Your knowledge and willingness to teach is a very special gift and I look forward to the date in September”

Another said: