Sunday, September 4, 2016

Slabs on Wheel




A Formalist Approach to Criticism by Nancy Frommer LaPointe

Often I hear artists claim that the intellect handicaps creativity, or that self-expression has no ground rules. Yet, abstract expressionists, funk artists or neo-classical ceramists, all follow strict stylistic guidelines.

After the "oohs" and "boos" are over, every academic critique, scholarly writing and chat over a beer revolve around and delight in exposing the secret structure of a work - in short, to recognize the essential elements, analyze how these elements lead to the whole, and thus interpret the meaning behind the work or body of work. However, only when the critic's hat is officially removed will he/she jump into an argument about whether the meaning of the work is banal or profound.

Why then are we embarrassed or afraid to identify and articulate the common guidelines that we all follow? For many of us, anger at criticism doesn't grow out of ignorance. Instead, it is an instinct to protect the aura surrounding art. Perhaps lips are tight and minds constrained for fear that the facts may strip art of its mystery, its magic and yank free the umbilical cord to our subconscious.

This worry is unfounded. Is the quality and power of a poem measured or limited by its correct use of grammar? Yet analysis of more than "design grammar" is called upon in formal criticism. The whole work based on the intention of the maker must be examined. Those working in clay must wear three hats to clearly express themselves: that of an artist to select aesthetic truth, that of a designer to define and compose the formal ingredients to reveal that truth, and that of a craftsperson to actually do it. The critic analyzes all three aspects of a work.

When wearing the first hat, that of an artist, the maker grapples with issues of theme, style, boundary and concept. The theme is the story. It answers the question "What is it all about?" Often it expresses reverence for or pays homage to: function, the past, the future, materials, methods, color, image making, ceremony, nature, attitudes or emotional states. Complex works blending several themes are rich in content, but succeed only if the major theme is clear. The battle within the hierarchy of themes is ongoing. Dichotomies of death versus life, beauty versus horror, love versus hate, technology versus nature, are the ruling class of themes today. The theme of material and process, once the hero of the '60s, has now become the peasant. Design as theme, the elite of the Bauhaus days, is now bourgeois.

When discussing a theme, the word style always haunts us. personal style is a result of individual and cultural memories, values and prejudice. A mature style has distinctive features. The characteristic qualities of each design element reflect a discernible aesthetic opinion. Specific historic styles mirror the collective, self-conscious attitudes of a culture. Personal style is a synthesis of past styles, concepts and notions chosen in accordance to an individual vision. Trends prosper from the adoption and proliferation of stylistic elements, only to misuse them, saturate and bore the human senses.

Because it is from the synthesis of concepts and notions that an idea is born, the critic searches for clues about idea origins to better interpret the depth and meaning of artwork.

Definitions for concept and notion are difficult to pin down. However, the following are handy interpretations of the words: A concept is a widely accepted fact or phenomenon. Art, like all disciplines, summons memories and images such as fragmentation, striation, modulation, to help develop ideas. A notion is an inclination, vague thought or dream-type image. Creativity, Scotland Yard, and the gambling table, all court the tantalizing notion or hunch.

Boundaries exist. Beyond them lies the drop-off point into disappointment or disbelief. For example: repetition into redundancy, mystery into confusion, description into blatantness, figurative into pornographic, carefree into careless, humble into boring. However, risks must be taken, for walking the edge is the critical test for the avant-garde.

Art criticism addresses the depth and clarity of the theme, the appropriateness and consistency of the style, the skill in which concepts were selected and used, the inventiveness of design solutions and the effectiveness to which the limits were pushed. Craft criticism addresses the appropriate use of material and technique. It gazes or glares at the product, probing for clues to the finesse of the individual maker.

Thus, to wear the hat of a craftsperson one must not only have skilled hands but also a knowledge of and sensitivity to materials and process. When a critic assesses the appropriate process needed to achieve the sought-after effect, it is because the evidence of action gives integrity and rightness to the piece. For instance, whether slip cast, extruded, pinched, coiled, thrown, or slab built, all have their unique and separate spirits. Truth in process must not be ignored; to slip cast a bowl with throwing lines looks false. Yet the raised pin stripe taken from rubber car mats looks right on a slip-cast, high-tech ceramic vase.

The personality of each material is also considered by the critic. Material as color, texture, porosity, weight, strength and historic uses or cultural attitudes all must support the theme of the piece. A primitive, coil-built, burnished pot begs to be made of earthenware and pit fired. A white talc body is ideal for a painterly wall mural. yet a delicate rice bowl, traditionally porcelain, loses its elegance when thrown out of a punky (nonvitreous) body.

The hat of the designer, the composer, carries along the responsibility to organize the work to satisfy the viewer. The forces that help plan and measure art are the formal elements of design: form, line, composition, color, and texture. The critic may look at each part in turn to see if its character is appropriate and powerful enough to express the theme.

When formal elements are inconsistent with theme, confusion results in one of these ways: First, two or more elements can have a clash of character; for instance, a delicate, thin rim on a heavy pot. Second, more details than necessary often create redundancy; for example, three or more handles on a piece not meant to be hung, tipped, or tied to. Third, two or more elements themselves can take on such prominence that they overshadow the theme.

Remember, too many heroes ruin a story. Formal analysis can become complicated. To illustrate: within a piece about anger, exquisite craftsmanship and proportion may actually be villains as they diffuse the tension and neutralize the theme by making the piece much too pretty.

In conclusion, the critic relies on three intellectual skills to determine quality: describing each of the design elements of the piece; analyzing these elements and thus envisioning why each part was chosen to feed the whole; and interpreting that whole to arrive at the meaning and value of the piece. Revealing and assessing the thoughts of the creator exposes any incoherent or incorrect aspect that could undermine the piece. As you can see, this kind of analysis tries to avoid the vagaries of taste. In short, it answers the important artistic question, "Does it work?"

*article appears Ceramics Monthly, Oct. 1987

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

5,000 Year Old Chinese Beer Recipe from Pottery

"Archaeologists discovered ancient beer-making tools in underground rooms, that were built somewhere between 3400 and 2900 B.C. The discovery was made at a dig site in the Central Plain of China and contained  pots, funnels and specially designed jugs. Objects suggest they were probably used for brewing, filtration and storage of beer."

read here

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Reflections: Mend


This piece was made in high school, 2001 or so. It was one of my earlier attempts at a stacked pot:  throw two separate pieces, let them dry to leather-hard, then stack one top of the other. The two vases were probably around 10-12 inches tall. So the piece is pretty tall overall.

Like many early attempts at a particular technique, there is always a fuck-up. In this case, the top of the bottom half didn't align with the bottom of the top half. There was no sense of continuity between the two. The ceramics teacher suggested I put a slab over the middle and smooth it over.

But...as you can see... I got a little lazy and just put the slab on and didn't smooth it over. I kind of liked it this way (although in retrospect, not so much). I liked how it looked like a band-aid trying to mend the division and its precarious connection. The metaphors are all there - hugs, hands;  much to do about holding together.    

Later on when I put the piece in some show, my mom said that we should name it Korea because it would be an analogy for unification and mending the bond between the two countries. I don't remember if that's what I named the piece. But it goes beyond Korea and I hoped it would resonate on various levels of being and putting things back on the mend.