Alfred University Summer Ceramics, Sunday July 16th
On Sunday, I arrived early at the studio, before 7 AM. In-Chin and his students were busy glazing scores of pots for Sunday’s wood kiln. His output is unparalleled. I glazed and put wads of refractory clay on the base of four pieces: the three plates that came out of the bisque kiln today plus the square-and-triangle-design plate. The glazed and wadded pieces were then placed on a shelf for loading in today’s wood kiln.
In the late afternoon, five more plates came out of a bisque kiln, plus a molded small rectangular bowl. I noticed the TAs were beginning to load an unannounced bisque kiln, so I put the nine remaining plates in the “hot box” (a gas-fired, heated cabinet for drying clay quickly) in order to quickly dry them enough for bisque. The rapid drying may lead to cracks in the bisque firing, but the risk seemed reasonable, as it was my only chance to have the plates ready for glazing this summer.
Earlier in the evening, I watched a 2005 documentary on Val Cushing, a legendary functional potter at Alfred. In the film Val reflects on his life with clay and demonstrates the throwing of his trademark covered casserole and covered jar. He believes you need three things to be a potter: (1) practice, (2) skill, and (3) philosophical point of view. Practice takes years, indeed a lifetime; skill builds on an innate proclivity; and by “philosophical point of view” he meant your identity manifest in your craft.
During summers camping with family on Cape Cod, Val became captivated by the sea shells along the shore. Their shape, surface, and color fascinated him. This facet of his identity was the basis for the expression he brought into his art — the textures and colors, the shapes, all are reminiscent of sea shells. A lover of jazz, he saw his work as improvisations on a theme. That theme, or his “voice,” became his unique contribution to the art.
It occurred to me that the three qualities that make the potter also make the teacher. To teach, both practice and skill are clearly essential to the craft; but I believe we tend to overlook the more fundamental and equally essential development of our “philosophical point of view” or our own voice. What is the unique identity that we bring to teaching, and how is it manifest? Beyond serving as skillful, knowledgeable guides for the learner, teaching in our voice, we become co-learners in a transformational process larger than both student and teacher combined. I can recall moments when I could feel the magic of this transformational process. I hope I can allow the space necessary for this to happen when I return to school in the fall.
