The Eight-Month Workshop: A Journey of Discovery
Posted on June 30, 2008 - Filed Under Pots, Ceramic Communion, Artists & Potters |
The gestation period between the conception and the first incarnation of the “Journey Workshop†was several years. Monique Giard, the director of Centre de céramique Bonsecours in Montreal, planted the seed of an idea in 2002, but it was not until the summer of 2007, with the help of Meira Mathison, the director of the Metchosin International Summer School of the Arts (MISSA), in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, that I was able to bring the concept to fruition.The premise was straightforward: Bring together a group of ceramics artists with at least rudimentary technical skills and help them find their personal voice. After two weeks of exploration at MISSA, students would return to their respective studios to do the hard work of applying what they had learned to their body of work, with the understanding that we would reconvene in eight months at my studio, Center Street Clay in Sandwich, Illinois, for a gallery exhibition of the group’s work.
In retrospect, the original subtitle to the workshop, “Throwing… Personal Style… Developing a Body of Work,†seems so pragmatic and linear. I intuitively knew the workshop had to develop spontaneously, but what surprised me most was how deeply the class delved into the realm of self-discovery. Most ceramics artists want to make work that is personal, but it’s not always easy to figure out how to do that. For some it is simply a matter of refining techniques, tweaking designs and training the eye to be more discerning during self-critique. For others it involves a near reincarnation.
Trezlie Brooks, Crestion, BC, Canada
It is tempting for an artist to look externaideas, direction and purpose. In the field of ceramics, there are countless workshops taught by potters willing to share their techniques, forms and surfaces with eager students. In school, teachers all too often emphasize technique at the expense of creative expression. Looking inside for personal expression involves sailing in uncharted waters; maneuvering through personal discoveries. There were many tears shed during an emotional two weeks at MISSA, but acknowledging emotion always led to work that was more personal. It is said there is nothing new in the field of ceramics. However, when we travel our own path, letting inspiration flow through us, our spirit infuses the things we make. Our work might not be “new,†but it is uniquely ours and this honest quest has the potential to sustain us through a lifelong career.
We used Robert Piepenburg’s book Treasures of the Creative Spirit as a basis for group discussions. Piepenburg says “…the human spirit is the inspirational source of all that is creative.†Many of us have built a wall to protect our spirit. This attempt to protect our spirit actually limits access to our own creative energy. Through class discussions and group exercises, we attempted to liberate this spirit. Our discussions sometimes felt like group therapy, other times they were simply exercises for the imagination. M.C. Richards says it best in her introduction to Paulus Berensohn’s Finding One’s Way With Clay; “The feeling of our lives will be awake in our fingers. We befriend the clay. The clay befriends us.â€
I have never heard of a ceramic workshop that involved a follow-up session and exhibition. Making participants accountable after the initial workshop, however, turned out to be key to the group dynamic. We knew we were going to meet again and there was a lot of work to do before that time. The gallery exhibition gave us a common goal to work toward. When the workshop ended at MISSA, each student wrote and signed a contract that included a broad outline of what they planned to accomplish. The contract made them accountable, both to themselves and to the group. One student created a Wikispace so the group could stay connected. I planned to set up a webcam to conduct critiques over the Internet. The show at Center Street Clay was on the calendar. We each had our marching orders and had accepted the challenge.
As you might expect in a group of fifteen students, there was a vast array of approaches to the task at hand. Some went right to work and some didn’t. At Center Street Clay, my partner Kim Miner and I were deeply involved in kiln building and finishing our ceramic studio. This, along with my personal tendency to procrastinate, kept me from purchasing a webcam and organizing critiques. Just as my lack of planning sabotaged my goal, many of my students would tell a similar story. Some had worked diligently from the beginning, but many were just beginning to fire as deadlines approached. Only a few students met the deadline for promotional material. Panic started to set in as the deadline slipped by. Two students dealt with it directly by dropping out. One just seemed to disappear. Some asked for more time or sent images of bisque or green pots. We had to assume that the three who dropped out weren’t ready for a program like this and focus on those who met the challenge and followed through in spite of the difficulties. The students who participated in the gallery show at Center Street Clay are the courageous ones.
Life being messy, juicy, often intense and always full to overflowing, many of us struggled… but ten of us made it to the end. It may sound corny, but we had become a family, and the reunion was pure inspiration.—Carol Smeraldo, East Preston, NS, Canada
The final session at Center Street Clay was all Kim and I could have hoped for. Our new dormitory was filled to capacity, and everyone squeezed around our dining room table to share meals and stories. The studio was filled with meaningful conversation during the day, laughter and live music at night. Students were happy to reunite with their classmates and share experiences. The ensuing critiques and discussions, as intense and connected as they had been the prior summer, helped students understand the implications of what they learned about themselves during the last eight months. We had the benefit of seeing the work displayed together in a gallery setting for the final group critique. The turn out for the opening was smaller than we hoped for, but the group was proud, as was I, to show the work and explain the premise to the public.
So the big questions now are: Did the process work? If so, what did we learn that could be applied to the next Journey Workshop? Did this group get what they wanted from the process? Does this represent a new direction for ceramic workshops? Is this kind of workshop a viable alternative to higher education?
This was by far the most satisfying teaching experience of my career. I have taught many workshops in which I relied on my “bag of tricks†to make the workshop engaging. I show students how I make my pots and discuss my philosophy. This is an appealing process and I enjoy it very much, but it often leads to students emulating Steven Hill pots. In this workshop, I never made my own pots; any demonstrations were generic, as opposed to personal. As you can tell from the photographs, no two students made similar work. For me, this represented success!
Did the process work? As I write this, we are in the midst of the first Journey Workshop to be held entirely at Center Street Clay. This group includes two local potters who came to the opening of the MISSA group. They talked to the participants and, in less than one month, they took time off work, found the money and they are here beginning their own journeys! I can say with confidence that for some at least, the process worked.
What did we learn that could be applied to the next Journey Workshop? Planning and follow up has to be a priority. Schedule everything from menus to critiques. Schedule it, make it public and then stick to it. For some participants, the procrastination then panic cycle is probably inherent in a long-term workshop. Understanding this cycle will help us manage it.
Does this represent a new direction for ceramic workshops? It certainly represents a direction we will pursue at Center Street Clay! Ultimately, attendance and support by the ceramics community will decide.
Is this kind of workshop a viable alternative to higher education? I am tremendously excited about this concept and certainly believe it has great potential as continuing education to augment an undergraduate/graduate degree, or for some, even a viable alternative to graduate school. A ceramic artist/potter need only answer one simple question. What is my goal? If the goal is mentorship, community, structure and direction; then it makes sense to try it. Why would someone with the humble goal of making pots infused with their spirit go deeply into debt attending graduate school? The money might be better spent setting up a studio and moving forward with a group of like-minded individuals who share similar goals.
Tarra Wedman: Thrown and altered Cone 10
stoneware, incised drawing, overglaze lusters,
 reduction fired, 11 in. (28 cm) in height.
Diane Burt: Thrown and altered Cone 6 porcelain
 with sprayed glazes, chatter marks, reduction fired,
6 in. (15 cm) in height.
Trezlie Brooks: Thrown Cone 6 porcelain with underglaze inlay, oxidation fired, 9 in. (23 cm) in height.
May Wong: Thrown and altered Cone 10 porcelain with incised design and sprayed glazes, reduction fired, 15 in. (38 cm) in height.
Carol Smeraldo: Thrown and altered Cone 6 porcelain
 with sprayed glazes, oxidation fired,
12 in. (30 cm) in height.
Evan Garber: Thrown and altered Cone 10 porcelain
with sprayed glazes, reduction fired, 9 in.
(23 cm) in height.
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