A potter's responsibility

Newsletter #2

When you do pottery, a lot of people think that there is remorse, but there is not : what has been done cannot be changed. It gives a strange feeling of responsibility.

Consequences of a movement



This responsibility starts as soon as the clay is being made. To prepare it, one has to definitely mix different dirts and sands. Then comes the moment when one has to decide on the general shape of the piece that will later be carved. This  big lump of clay might look harmless, but it is already deciding a lot about what will come next. As soon as the hand lays for the first time on the clay, it is already taking a step toward a certain direction. And then, each move has influence on the whole piece. There is no surgical operation that can correct but do not deregulate.
Maybe, that is why the potter’s moves seem so simple : s/he has to be fast, shape everything in a single swoop and without retrieving any part of the piece that might go astray. But this whole simplicity is, of course, the result of a long training.

In a sharp contrast, my « project » for each piece changes tens of times before I end up with a more or less disappointing pile of clay, slighlty disgusted with my own self. Most of the time, my result is not exactly wished for but, at least, it is not as horrible as what it was some minutes ago. Although sometimes… Anyway, when one patches up a dead body, to end up with a Frankenstein is better than nothing. My master has entrusted me with a bit of clay, I make into a lump and, after some work, I am the sole and happy owner of a piece of dried mud. And now I have to fire it…

Burnt for a thousand years.


As unexpected as it may be coming from a ceramic lover and a practitioner, I am frankly not very gifted for this. My first French pieces are not any better than a five years-old improvised sand castle on the beach and my « creative » attempts in Japan often results in a more « odd » than « beautiful » way.

The "Volcano", one of my French creations
And ceramic is cruel in that sense that it takes some part of earth, the basic material in essence, and it freezes this earth for hundreds of years. In that regard, precisely, ceramic is the best practice to develop a sense of responsibility.  What has been fired will not be recycled for at least as long as we live. We leave our very own will here, with each piece of ceramic.




A bizen style chawan I made in Tamba, Japan.


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