In my ceramic work there is beauty in mishap, the evidence of process, of how something was made. The marks where prongs grab onto the vessel to lift it from the searing hot kiln to the reduction chamber, they are beautiful.
With my Raku artwork, Nature seeps in. Like dragonfly wings, the vases are iridescent. Like plant seeds, they have burrs. And when I carry each from a day of firing, each one is heavy and warm to the touch.
Relic
Holding this hollow form, it has a weight, a presence.
Like Nature, it is a paradox of shiny and matte at different times of the day. It is smooth and burred.
To capture the color for this picture, I waited hours for the sun to strike the curved sides of this vessel. When it lit up, I felt connected to civilizations before, they who also waited for the sun to interact with something human made.
Rising Wave
Reflecting sunlight the colors emerge in the day, reflecting shadows they sleep at night.
I brought this vessel back from the studio at dusk. Before darkness the rim started to glow like molten copper, then a green brightness circled around. It was always there but only visible at dusk. Like waves, the colors ebb and flow.
Dragonfly Spirit
I don't determine the colors that appear. The raku process changes the copper in the glaze, and captures the second when fine leaves of a Tahoe pine ignite into flame.
The color of every piece is undetermined till it is washed from ashes. This firing revealed bold adventurous splashes of color like what Nature paints on wings.
Oasis Sunrise
When I ask folk at the ceramics studio what a glaze will look
like after firing, the answer is always mysterious. After some thought, they would say "... it depends..."
No one can predict and no one can repeat what appears so effortlessly during a firing.
After the vessel goes into the reduction chamber, I may crack open the lid for a moment. The rest of the time, it sits and burns out, unhindered by human meddling.
This series stands as one harmonious tone, like a prayer at the temple on a new year's day seeking harmony with family and friends. The pieces are made and fired with foodsafe clay and glazes. The gloss pieces are functional and invite interaction.
Jar
This bell-shaped jar was made in two pieces but is visually seen as one shape.
I imagine it can be held and rung to call folks to enjoy what is held within.
Flask
The cover of the flask can be removed to hold a snack or vitamins.
For this series, I began with my thoughts of a bowl and its purpose. A saying emerged, "Warm Soup, Warm Heart". I wanted the saying to be written vertically and so three Asian languages were selected. I collaborated with three of my friends who were native speakers of Japanese, Chinese and Korean to help me come up with the characters for this phrase.
But then something incredible happened... Each friend offered an authentic saying from their own culture and language. It made me cherish my friends, their culture and our marvellous world even more.
In the middle of the bowl is the shape of a unique golden ginkgo leaf.
Warm Soup, Warm Heart: Japanese
心も体もほっこりスープ
"A warm soup untangles the heart."
The saying has the meaning that soup warms and relaxes both body and mind. " ほっこり is a Kyoto word that means both warm and relaxed so we use this phrase pretty often for warm food or tea."
Warm Soup, Warm Heart: Korean
따뜻한 국물로 마음을 녹이세요
"Melt your mind with warm soup."
The meaning of this saying is, a bowl of warm soup can release the stresses of life.
Warm Soup, Warm Heart: Chinese
热汤养心 修身养性
"Warm soup nourishes the heart."
In fact Traditional Chinese Medicine is often prepared as a concentrated herbal soup.