QotW: How would you explain the personal relationship you have with the ceramic objects that you have in your home?

[Pres]

I remember years ago, walking into a someones home to see pots nearly everywhere I looked. It was breath taking! These were not just nick nacks, but floor vases and jars, table decorations, object de art. .. .really astounding. I think about the pots around our home, some from other folks, that bring back memories of a personal nature, some bought from shows because I knew the person, admired their work, and felt I needed something to remember them by. My pots, are personal and are a connection. They don't get used though very often at least not like my own pieces in the house do. We drink out of mugs everyday, heat up chili in my ramekins, my bowls will make oatmeal in the morning, or make a salad at night. They also end up in other homes as gifts to remind others that my wife and I are still around.😅 

QotW: How would you explain the personal relationship you have with the ceramic objects that you have in your home?     .Include those from others and your own.

 

best,

Pres

[Denice]

My pots remind me of the different stages of my life and phases of my life working in clay.    I have displayed are the ones I considered the best of that phase.    More  coiled pots  were put out this year.   Believe it or not,  I have visitors complain that I don't have enough of my work displayed.  I have some smaller bowls and mugs that I have purchased from other potters.   They are scattered around the house,  when I come across one it triggers a pleasant memory of that person and their work.  We recently put away the stoneware set of dishes I made 15 years ago.  They are to heavy for my arthritic hands to lift,  fortunately working with clay loosens up my hands.   When my hands are hurting I head out to my studio,  it is hard for me to think about the day I will have to give up clay.    Denice

[LeeU]

I have a paradoxical relationship with the clay in my home, whether my work  or other people's work. I have kind of a Yin/Yang,  push-pull, thing going on at the moment. It's been emerging for a few months now.  I am simultaneously embracing my treasures and deriving pleasure, comfort, inspiration and connectivity from the ceramics, scattered throughout every room & out on both porches, and yet spending an equal amount of energy divesting myself emotionally from so much possession of STUFF, regardless of value or meaning.  Today I chucked 10 tea light bases into the recycle bin. They were  actually perfectly fine, it just seemed I had too many. I am not motivated to sell or even give them away-so out they went.  Indeed, I was relieved of a some sort of cosmic burden, and yet, very  disenchanted with myself for even being in the situation. I have decided, upon addressing this QotW, to amble around Winnisquam Lake through the public trails/woods & waterfront, and scatter said tea light bases (retrieved from the bin) about the ground when no one's looking. I will tape tea lights to each. My hunch is I will feel much better after that...and it won't make a dent in the volume of really cool  items that I'll keep. The executor of my "estate" (the contents of a rented mobile home that's beginning to resemble a hoarder's paradise) can deal with it later.

[Kelly in AK]

The personal relationship is more important than the risk of the pot breaking. Using a handmade pot is a kind of personal relationship with the maker. At least I hope it is, that’s a big reason I make functional pottery. I use the pots my friends and fellow artists have made. I confess some are precious enough for special occasions only, but it feels wrong to keep them locked away indefinitely. All pots will break, as potters we accept this early for our own work. As users it is a more difficult pill to swallow, maybe especially for a potter(?). Potters understand it differently, we know the truly irreplaceable ones. 

The life of a pot is in its daily use. I revisit the friend I haven’t seen in twenty years when I drink coffee from the mug he made. I appreciate the teacher who is gone from this world a little bit more sipping wine out of the cup he gave me. And I look forward to seeing the young man again whose work I recently bought to tell him how delightful it is to use the pots he’s made.

There are pieces I have no “personal” connection to, yet I do. I know a bit of the maker by the marks, the story, left behind in clay. If we ever meet I suspect we’d be friends. This is a kind of beauty. Whether it’s a thousand years old or fired last week, we can see one another in clay. I love this. 

My problem is I’ve amassed a large enough collection it’s getting hard to fit them all in the cupboard. 🙂

[Denice]

This morning I felt like a great big steaming hot mug of coffee,  I dug around  in my cups and found the huge mug I got from Marc.  I know that he has made thousands of these mugs in the last fifty years but it still felt very personal and comforting.    Denice

[LeeU]

I'm going to double dip here & comment again, since I am in a completely different head space today compared to yesterday. Right now I'm enjoying a dark roast coffee from a beautiful mug by Maureen Mills. This simple object, made even more special by knowing its creator, connects me to many other cherished pieces from various ceramicists. Each item carries with it a personal link to the people and events that brought them into my life.  These connections sustain the vibrancy of memories from anagama firings (w/John Baymore = extra special), studio visits, cool demos, exhibitions, lively conversations, interesting day trips, and Guild meetings.

Then there's my own pieces-the keepers that have moved with me over the years, along with the newer items that I use daily for functionality and display. My relationship with these objects distills down to two essential drives: the impetus to create, and need to affirm my existence. My claywork says "I am here, I'm still breathing" (a sentiment I belted out long before Sia's "Alive".) Those two themes-creation and survival-are metaphorically expressed in my deliberatively unrefined style and especially captured in my Hidden Mask Series (1980 to the present). 

[Hulk]

The wares I have a relationship with are out in the Studio - "in" the raw clay, waiting on trimming, firing, glazing, et cetera.
Once polished, inspected and dispositioned, that relationship is over.

There are a few ceramic wares about the house that:
were made by people we know - family and friends;
Mom liked;
we used as kids, dinnerware;
were collected and treasured by others.
So, we keep them.

Of my wares, the ones my partner really likes, there's something special.
There are many more that we use - mostly "seconds" and "blems" - and I like quite a few of them.

Seems like there's always a "best of" - best pot ever (gone, sold), best pot of this firing, best pot in the Studio, best pot in the display...
I'll try to see how and why a pot is "best," and leverage that in future.

A recurring thought/image I have on this week's topic, where someone sees a ware, likes it, wants it, grasps it, often smiling, with a "it's mine" glow.
...makes it all worthwhile.

Interesting how often the grasper went straight to the best pot.
!
...and how often the grasper is an active and accomplished artisan/artist themself.

In contemplating this week's question, I'd widened the scope to "things" (objects) in general, as I just wasn't getting anywhere.
My outlook may soften, with time. I'm just not feeling much of an attachment to things lately, perhaps on account of a disconcerting bout of rather extreme vertigo I had last week, heh, I thought "...this might be it!" and laughed at myself a bit, as I staggered to the edge of the swimming pool, so "they" wouldn't have to haul me off the bottom of the pool.
Ah, glad to be alive, I am! Likely the twinges of dizziness and such I've been experiencing over the last several years is associated with BPPV*, which, apparently, was exacerbated by dehydration, exhaustion, heat, exercise, bright light, and rapid changes in position...

*Benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, typically caused by particles in the inner ear fluids disrupting operations/functionality in there

[Pres]

@Hulk, have dealt with vertigo for many years. Did the exercises, helped a bit. As a bowler, I still have problems getting to the approach holding a bowling ball, but that has improved in the last few years. Original symptoms were attributed to diabetes, but testing proved otherwise. Lately I only seem to get vertigo in the change of seasons.

 

 

best,

Pres

[Mark C.]

Most of my work is for use (for example our plates for everyday use salad and dinner are my stoneware made in the 70s) the mugs are mostly from other potters as Ilikke to use other potters mugs daily. The objects of a long life in clay decorate the home and are vases ,jugs covered jars  (salt raku ,porcelain stoneware) many our mine others like Tom Colemans ot Otto Heinos or Warren mackinze are mixed in as well as personal potters whom are not famous but friends. I like to see good pot every day no matter who made it.

[Bam2015]

I buy pots at juried craft fairs where I purposely seek out the potter or while on vacation. While I marvel at the beauty of the pots when using them, the  reminder of the vacation or trip to the fair with a friend(s) is also important to me. We went to PotFest UK in Scotland in 2023 and when I use those pots, I am reminded of our trip and the conversations that I had with the potters. It is never just about the pot itself. 

Lee, I appreciated your 'double dipping' as you called it. I always enjoy reading your posts. 

Betty

[Denice]

I also seek out other potters booths to buy something from them.   About 5 years ago my husband and I drove a old car to a show,  we weren't allowed to stay because  we  had a custom bumper.   We were a few miles from KC  so we decided to spend the day there.  I checked out the newspaper and found a ad for the big crafts fair and art exhibit they have every year.    The only potter I found was a well known potter in KC for his glaze layering.   He had a mug display and was selling them for $50,  I was willing to pay that much but my husband wasn't.   I didn't get a mug but I will always remember the encounter.   Denice