Showing posts with label mugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mugs. Show all posts

Saturday, 5 June 2010

Through My Son's Eyes



One Sunday, 2010



Now.



I am sitting on the bench on the hill in front of our house. Dad, my little brother Sean and I are eating potato chips together while we drink cocoa. The cocoa that I am drinking, from a mug which Dad made, is warm, it’s flavour mellow and slightly sweet, it’s fragrance soft and gentle. Absolutely delicious.



The vegetable beds were tilled yesterday, and beyond our garden I can see rice paddies, further yet I see hills and forests. I can see far, far into the distance.



Brown soil, green leaves, yellow, pink and pale mauve flowers. The clear blue sky and pure white clouds reflect on the surface of the water in the rice paddies.



The sunlight on the vegetable garden glares brightly, but where I sit now on the bench is dappled with a pattern of shadows from the leaves of the trees.



The harsh voices of a blue heron, flying across the sky, and a white heron, walking through the rice paddy, echo on the gentle breeze.



It may not have been anything special, but I enjoyed it and it’s beauty.



The crumbs of potato chips that have fallen on the ground are being cleaned up for us by the ants. The last mouthful of cocoa is cold, but still delicious.



I am very grateful.





Translated from the diary of Rohan Craig, age 8

  
(The original Japanese can be found on my Mika's blog
Here.  
美果のブログに、この文章の日本語版がここにあります。)   

Monday, 31 August 2009

Storm in a Coffee Mug





Typhoon number 11 is visiting us here today, so we have greeted it in the traditional way. This house has been standing here since the Taisho period, so it's close to a hundred years old now, though nobody is really sure. It has stood through countless typhoons, earthquakes, floods, recessions, and at least one world war. We even survived the level 4 earthquake last night without even waking the kids! We have closed the weather shutters as tradition has taught us to do, and we are safe from the elements. It is also a chance for us to enjoy what has become the traditional Craig family typhoon breakfast of drop scones and lemon butter.
Funny thing, Tradition. All it really is is a system of passing on successful methods of survival. The conditions of nature that we live in haven't changed significantly for 10,000 years, let's call it 400 generations. There will inevitably be typhoons, earthquakes, torrential rain, forest fires, and all manner of natural events. Eventually someone realizes it's not very bright to build a house of grass balanced on a couple of round rocks on the banks of a river amid the tall rushes. So they build a house with heavy interlocking beams on a firm foundation of stone on the high ground with a safe space around it for the kids to play. This knowledge, and the skills to make it practical, are taught to the children, though they may not themselves have experienced any of those disasters in their lifetime. It becomes Tradition. Trees are planted that will mature into enough good timber to build a new house when the old one is no longer safe.
With the passing of the generations, innovations are made, new ideas, materials and methods, which improve the chances of survival, improve the quality of life. They then are added to or replace the Tradition. Even something as simple as a cup of coffee is the result of this process. You can't always guarantee that your drinking water is safe, and even today there are large numbers of the human population throughout the world who suffer from a lack of this basic necessity. Someone realises that if you boil it before you drink it you don't get sick, you survive, and that becomes tradition.
But if you let it cool and leave it in the open air and sunlight for too long it goes bad again, so we'd better drink it while it's hot. Hot water on it's own doesn't taste that good, but someone discovers these leaves, or those berries, make it taste and smell much nicer, and they seem to make you feel even better than just water alone! Welcome, Tea and Coffee! This too becomes a new and ever evolving Tradition.
The cup, however, gets hot, and burns our fingers, precious! What shall we do? Our answer in western tradition was to stick a handle on the side, so our fingers don't touch the hot vessel. Generations of innovation eventually gave us the pulled handle. In the 1920's Hamada brought the technique back to Japan, where it became part of the "Leach/Hamada Tradition", and pulled handles are known in Japan as "Leach Handles".
My innovation is to spring them from the rim of the pot, making the join over the inside and outside, thus spreading the contact surface and making the join stronger. The high handle also lowers the centre of gravity, so that no matter how much is in the cup it is comfortable to hold. The forces of nature dictate the curve.
Where tradition falls down is when we forget the real reasons why we do these things, and either adhere to them by rote or ignore them in deference to the vagaries of fashion or finance.
Recent experience shows that heavy tile roofs in a major earthquake will cause a pendulum swing which collapses the structure below, but there are those who won't use lighter modern materials because it is not "Tradition".
The land on the river bank is cheap, these thin veneer sticks cost less than proper timber, and if you stick vinyl on the outside... why, it's just like a bought one!
Does it matter if the vestigial handle on the bottom of your coffee cup is too small for one finger and the hot brew inside is in constant danger of cascading down your front, as long as it looks funky?
For me there is a responsibility that comes with the making of things. That they be safe, that they perform well the function for which they were created, and that they are beautiful. They need to be real, firmly grounded in human needs, and created in a way that does not cause harm to this environment upon which we and our children depend for survival. If they succeed in this they will stand the test of time and enrich the lives of those generations yet to come, standing beside other such works from the artists of the past . So, unlike the unknown craftsmen, I sign my work inside the foot ring by combing my initials, EC, and then stamp my logo mark on the outside of the foot ring, with a bulls head stamp. This tells that I made this work in the year of the bull.
It took thousands of years to build traditional society. It has taken industry, technology and greed a century or so to bring it to its knees. Yet, in just two generations Leach and Hamada have become tradition all over the world, and in only two years Lemon Butter and Drop scones have become tradition in our home on stormy mornings. I think that's rather a hopeful thought.


Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Takashimaya 2009


An exhibition is generally the first place an artist sees their own works as a body. Most of the time we are focussing on individual parts of the process. Setting up the Takashimaya exhibition today was exciting, because most of the work, as you know, only came out of the kiln yesterday!




One of the things I like about the NY Takashimaya Home exhibition is the dining table setting, which really puts the pots in context as functional art.














Mixing the different patterns as a place setting, putting it together with other genre, cuttlery, crystal and laquer ware. It helps the guests to visuallise the work in their own home.














Of course I had to test drive the new coffee mugs with Mika this morning before I delivered the pots, with a nice cup of cappuccino, on our own dining table.

Monday, 13 July 2009

Opening the Box



No matter how cleverly you stack the kiln, or how well you have mastered the firing, the fact remains that the results from a wood kiln are in the hands of nature. You will never know for sure how the pots will come out until they do, actually, come out. It is a matter of faith, of trusting the process of nature. And if you have guided the firing well, the kiln will reward you with exceptional pots, far beyond the limits of your own ability.







My firing on Saturday took 13 hours, so it was fairly fast, but I gave it a very heavy reduction, including a reduced cooling. When I opened the kiln this morning I was surprised by a slightly metallic lustre on the surface of flashing and blue clouding in the black glaze. The pink spot on the rim of the plate is porcelain slip with 2% of Copper Oxide, so it is a good indication of the heavy reduction. In oxidation it would be green. The green slip trailing is also porcelain, but with 2% Chrome.






There was also more orange flashing towards the fire face than usual, which will balance with the heavy carbon trapping from the previous firing when I display them together at my next exhibition.










There were more losses than I've had recently, but that is mainly because of the large number of plates with the black glaze. Just one grain of sand or flake of kiln wash will ruin the whole piece.










Two hundred of the pieces from this firing will be going into my next exhibition and will be available for purchase at New York Takashimaya Home, 10F Takashimaya Department Store, Shinjuku, Tokyo, from next Wednesday, July 15th till July 28th.
I will be at the exhibition on the 15th, 18th, 19th, 25th, 26th, 27th and 28th, if you would like to visit while I am there.

Monday, 30 June 2008

The week that was.


This last week has been hectic. On monday the Japanese pottery magazine "Tsukuru Toujiro" came to photograph and interveiw for the August issue. They are dedicating six pages to me and my coffee mugs.
My studio normally feels too small, but with the back drops and camera equipment it was like potting in a shoebox.


I finished the mugs ( all 200 of them), handled, dried, glazed and fired them by Saturday. I had to fire by then so that I could unpack and deliver to a gallery in Utsunomiya today. While I was firing the kids "hung around" and enjoyed the fine weather.


Yesterday was a day of rest and Mika celebrated her birthday.
The children and I baked and decorated her cake.


Tomorrow I fly out to the UK, to build and fire one of my kilns at David and Margaret Friths pottery in Denbigh, North Wales for Steve Tootell. I will also be giving a lecture and demonstration for the North Wales Potters Association on the sixth. Hopefully I will be able to research some traditional beer at the local pub while I'm there!

Sunday, 22 June 2008

Art and Artifice


That which is beautiful does not cease to be so merely because we are inured to it. Modern society tends to cauterize ours basic senses and makes us blind, deaf and insensitive to the simple and essential beauty that is inherent in nature, surrounding us every day. It takes a great deal of effort to peel away the veneered layer upon layer of false values and preconceptions that have been pasted over our perceptions and become aware of the simple truths that are self evident around us. It is easy to judge your life, your success, by monetary standards, but those standards are artificial and manmade, not intrinsic or even necessarily real. Nor is it healthy to constantly judge yourself based on opinions of others, for everyone of us has the freedom of thought to define themselves.


I find great joy in simple things. "They" say that "small things amuse small minds", but I disagree. The ability to perceive the magnificence of nature in something as simple as a sea shell, or to find joy and satisfaction in making a coffee mug, or two hundred coffee mugs, is acknowledging ones place in this droplet of life in the vast desolate cosmos. Every day is a miracle, every moment a revelation.


God is in the details, I have heard said, and I think that is true. Nature does not forget the underside of a shell or leaf, each is a masterpeice, no two the same, and yet they are all in harmony with each other. Modern society has set too much value on uniformity, on sameness, and lost the beauty of pattern and rhythm that is a part of nature and traditional craft and society.
The things which we make with our hands, for our hands to use, should be as beautiful and immediate to us as the beauty of nature. They should not be mechanical sterile barriers between us and nature. That is the difference between art and artifice, a difference that is vital to the future of human society.

Friday, 10 August 2007

Hot Mugs

Finally fired the mugs on wednesday!
Firing a wood kiln in midsummer is exhausting, even for me. 33 degrees in the shade, and the only shade is near the kiln, which is 1300 degrees. The biggest danger is dehydration, although heat exhaustion comes a close second.





It's not long before you're saturated with persperation, hoping for a breeze. Once again Sean keeping an eye on things.



Luckily there's a bath tub full of cool water to chill out in if your small enough. Unfortunately Daddy isn't.


Today I unpacked the kiln and lined the pots out on the lawn. Excellent pink and orange flashing on many of them, beautiful grey carbon trapping on others.


But best of all the long awaited mugs. I know that many people have been waiting for them, and they have come out perfect. We'll just give them time to cool down before we fill them with beer, shall we?

Thursday, 12 July 2007

A Mugs Life



Beauty does not cease to be beautiful merely because were are inured to it.





I know that to many people who live "important" lives that my career as a potter is nothing more than a glorified hobby, and that the things which I make and do are trivial and mundane. Well, maybe they're right, maybe I could have done "so much more" with my life.



But maybe they're wrong.



Maybe the important thing about being human is to bear witness to the beauty of nature, to revel in the wonder of life, to give expression to that joy in our everyday lives, every day. I do not wish to change the world, I only wish to draw attention to it.
There is something marvelous about a bowl of fresh vegetables, something miraculous about a delicious meal, something moving about a simple days work. The pattern of light and dark that the rising and setting of the sun leaves upon the tapestry of our lives is ever changing and wondrous. No two mornings are the same, no two evenings, and every day is a precious gem embroidered on our soul.


Every pot, every coffee mug that I make is a moment of my life, a piece of my spirit. No two are the same, like the leaves of a tree, and like a tree I make them so that I can grow. They are not copies of nature, but new expressions of the beauty of nature. When they are finished they will find new life in the hands of others, enriching other peoples everyday lives, carrying the joy that I feel in being alive into the lives of others for years, perhaps centuries, potentially millenia to come. If I only have one life to live, then I will live and love life everyday until all my days are done, and simple though they may be, I will not regret one of them.

Saturday, 7 April 2007

Cappucino!

It is still cold in the mornings, so the day starts by lighting the woodstove. Standing at the stone bench in the kitchen by the early morning light I grind the coffee. The fragrance fills the room as the espresso brews. I foam the milk, add the coffee and sprinkle the top with cocoa.
Ah, cappucino...
It's even better that I get to use my own cups. A chance to hold them, drink from them, enjoy them. Of my two designs I choose the newer curved design, giving Mika my traditional design. The shape is softer and more feminine than my regular mugs. Their position in the kiln has given them subtler colours and smoky carbon effects. The balance is comfortable in my hand as I raise the cup to my lips, my left hand gently touching the chattered texture beneath its curved hip. I drink.
Ah, Cappucino!