A Funerary Urn for Cris

She cleaned houses. Mine was the first after she came to this country. For me her work was a luxury; for her, necessity. We never had a bad moment. We trusted one another implicitly. We knew each other for 12 years, and I never regretted having her in my home. She surely cleaned much better than I do, and I was always grateful to have the privilege of employing her.

She knew about plants, she loved physics and natural sciences, and she studied the stock market. She had practiced reflexology in her country, but cleaning requires no certification, and cleaning jobs were available to the single mother of a young child. She spoke Spanish and I speak English, and though we both spoke a smattering of the other's language with one another, somehow we had in-depth discussions about life. We never gossiped about people we knew in common. We often spoke philosophically. She came every Friday morning, riding her bike to and from the job, and while I cooked and ran errands as I always do on Fridays, she made order out of our disorder. 

This lovely, intelligent and kind person died of a very aggressive cancer last week, after only five months of apparent illness and barely a month after diagnosis. Without medical insurance, she did not receive proper testing or proper care at the hands of an indifferent hospital. Legal permanent residency came just ahead of illness, and Obamacare came too late.

There was no ceremony because there was no money for one, but some of those she worked for had given her and her son a collection of funds towards the end of her life, and they were able to afford cremation.  Her son, a grown young man, the age of my youngest child, came around to thank each of us who contributed.

He said I was her closest friend.

I had no idea. Sometimes you do not know how you might affect the people you care about in your life. No idea at all. I hope she had great friends who knew they were close to her. I always knew I was blessed to know her.

This is what I have been thinking about for several days. It is a jar with a cover, an urn for her ashes. On one side will be a drawing of a black-capped chickadee that is sitting on a branch of flowering quince. She loved the little birds and she loved the great and beautiful outdoors, riding her bike in all weathers. On the other side of the jar is a bicycle, and her name.

Life is so very strange and sometimes so very sad.

Flowering quince, April, 2014

The Value of Functional, Handmade Pottery

The pottery that sold online at my 10% off sale several weeks ago went on its way when the sale ended. Thank you to those of you who came by or bought online!

Those who came to the gallery itself over three days (-this is as low-pressure as it gets, short of browsing my website for handmade work while you are in jammies-) bought goblets, bowls, washing cups and serving dishes. Decorative pottery, which is functional but also more whimsical and one of a kind, and also more expensive, did not sell quite as much. It does take a particular sort of buyer to have confidence in that, though. I can live with these for longer than for mugs, say, which I expect to sell sooner.

Pottery may not be basic to life like eggs or veggies, but it is life-enhancing. When you use an individual, handmade object in everyday life and in celebration of events, an element of warmth is added to the moment. Gift-giving opportunities come up sometimes, and it is lovely to give a quality handmade gift, signed by the maker. It is not far-fetched at all now and then to buy something beautiful that has been hand made, even if it may cost a bit more than something mass produced. Treat yourself! With some care (or left in the right archaeological site for millennia!) pottery will outlast generations of humans.

The thing about using pottery or enjoying and appreciating other art and handicraft, once you have purchased it, is that it adds a human element to our world, this world that is increasingly plugged into digital data and machinery, and decreasingly touched by the creative work of human hands. Some ancient pots still bear the fingerprints of the maker in the fired clay, as fresh and evident of human endeavor as when those loops and whorls lived on two creative hands and made functional art. 

I find that many people feel uninformed and tentative in the face of an art form they don't know much about, particularly one that, like pottery, is art that also serves a day to day function. They seem to doubt themselves when it comes to spending the little bit more that American handicraft needs to command. 

The moral of the story? You, the consumer of handmade goods, should feel free to deliberate a little, then if it still feels right, buy the thing you fall in 'deepest like' with. Odds are you won't regret it.

Taking a Very Short Break!

I'm off this week, and the blog is on a hiatus, at least for today! 

May all your celebrations be beautiful!

All good wishes from Mimi Stadler Pottery.

That Passover Pottery Arrives

Here they are, fresh out of the kiln. 

You'll find them in person at my Gallery Downstairs at 196 Windsor Way, and on my website, which this blog is part of... Or call 732 492 8558 and reserve something for a look-see.

The two previous Seder plates, which are large, very simple ivory colored shapes (quiet parchment color, not bright white) with black lettering, have been taken  down to $65 each from $95 and $85 till Passover,  because I've had them for a couple of years and want to make room for more this year.

Although quite simple in appearance, these were deceptively hard to make, as the technique lends itself to cracking as it dries, so I had few in the first place; now there are only two. (Shipping varies- West Coast is about $21, $33 to rush, and east coast zones more like $12.)

I've tried various ways of making Seder plates over the years. Recent ones, thrown on the wheel instead of handbuilt, have the most strength and durability. One cracked in the drying. One came out really well. And one is for the blooper reel...

The 1 new Seder plate:

12" diameter by 2" high. Underglaze drawing on porcelain (2232 degrees F), clear glazed. $85.

and can be found here in more detail:

You can just see the red color of the side. Bottom is unglazed, and signed.

The matzah plates are between $54 and $58 , depending upon size. These are for machine (square) matzahs. Nobody's asked for matzah plates for the round handmade matzohs (that would be a nice pairing, don't you think?) but I would make some for next year if there's interest. (These are a good bit larger. Price would be probably between $60 and $80 depending what I do with the design.)

I have some beautiful goblets, as seen in Judaica on my website, and three cute and characterful search-for-chametz candleholders (NOT on the website yet, but found in my gallery, $35 each- Contact me if you'd like one. Time is getting short to ship anything, though). 

These are essentially the same, except I played with the shape of the handle, looking for balance. They are about the same when it comes down to it. They have large candle openings, good for an old-school Shabbat candle to be stuck in and melted on (the opening is roomy).

May all your celebrations be joyful!

Passover Pottery

In a last-minute push to the finish line, I made pottery for Passover last week. I bisque fired two kiln loads of new work on Wednesday and Thursday. Today and tomorrow I am glazing some of those pots, and by Thursday afternoon I should have two seder plates and three matzah plates.  Check my website late Thursday for photos and price. Remember: very limited quantity of Passover pottery.

There will also be some more beautiful bowls in several very handy sizes to take with you as gifts when you go to your Passover hosts, or to enhance your own table. 

There's nothing like a deadline…complicated with a touch of bronchitis...

Polishing a Foot

Once, early on in my craft show days, a woman bought a cup and plate. Her husband said, "What do you want that for? Isn't it going to scratch the furniture?" He was a grouch, but his words spoke a truth I remember to this day.

So lately (having learned this from the videos of the potter Hsin Chuen Lin) I polish the foot ring of bowls and smooth the bottoms of pots that seem scratchy. I have some pots left (nice, and inexpensive because they've hung out with me a while,) that were made of a groggy brown clay, and I did my best to smooth the feet of those pots. In the last six months, I began working with porcelain. You may not know it, but without a bit of smoothing, most unglazed porcelain (like the part that touches your table), is not naturally very smooth.

When I am done trimming a foot into the pot, I take a glossy river rock or a smooth glass pebble, and while the wheel is turning, I polish the surface of that foot till it feels nice and smooth.  

A closer look at the shiny pebble and the foot turning around and the harmony they are making.

Ongoing Preview Sale

Yesterday was Day One of introducing my little showplace. It's great to open the door and let some people into the gallery for the first time, and show them what's doing in the studio. Feels almost like spring despite the still-chill weather. It's spring in the gallery!

Today is Day Two: I'll be in my studio and gallery again, essentially 9-5, and you can stop by after that till 8 PM today and then tomorrow, too, 9 AM to 8 PM. I'm still giving 10% off as an introduction to The Gallery Downstairs. (Contact me for a coupon if you're shopping online!) We're at 196 Windsor Way, Hillside, NJ, 732-492-8558. Here's what you can do: Repost this on whatever social media you use. Tell your friends. You can "Like" Mimi Stadler Pottery on Facebook, so your friends there can see the goings on at studio and gallery, too. If you haven't gone, you can go see my website at http://www.mimistadlerpottery.com. You can feel free to Comment on the blog (on the blog itself- where you can also find a blog RSS feed button to receive notice of new posts. And (of course) you can shop at The Gallery Downstairs or on this website. I recommend the gallery itself if you are local, as it has additional items not found on the website, some at nice sale prices.

I thank you if you do any of this; it is really appreciated; and in the course of doing them you may well find some handmade things you will love.

It's another great day for handmade pottery! 

(10% off sale extends through tomorrow, Tuesday March 25, 2014.)

Preview to Show and Sale @ The Gallery Downstairs

In honor of Spring (sort of) springing today, we will offer a three-day preview with a 10% coupon off your entire purchase, to be honored on Sunday, March 23, and continuing through March 25.

Contact me for your coupon with its individualized code. Or you can sign up for the RSS feed on this blog post (to the left of the title), and I will send you one. You do need to retrieve your coupon in advance, though. There will be no 10%-off in person without it- sorry. It's easy. I will need you to do that in order to know where to find you to email you in future with sales and events and coupons. There is no downside: I will give you an easy opt-out if you do not wish to receive further emails about sales and events.

Your 10% off coupon will be good for shopping at both this website, and The Gallery Downstairs at 196 Windsor Way, Hillside, NJ (732-492-8558, usually Sunday through Friday 9-5 and by appointment except Friday evening and Saturday).

We will have a more formal show and sale on May 3, 4 and 5 with new work. This preview is to introduce you to my pottery in person. I make one of a kind wares, folks. Every show and sale is going to be a little different. If you love it, but don't purchase it, someone else may get it, and there won't be another exactly like it.  Uniqueness is part of the beauty of handmade. Do you want a special gift for family or friend? Need a mug that feels just right for you? Do you require something special for a holiday? That's the charm of coming to the sales- and at random times all year! You never know what just-right thing you may find.

Best regards from the studio!

Mimi

Coupon for March 23-25, Now Available!

Hello from The Gallery Downstairs!

The Gallery Downstairs is a small business right in the neighborhood (if you're in the Hillside-Elizabeth, NJ area,) where you can touch and pick up the work in your hands, and really feel if something is "right" for you. 

My gallery visitors so far have been discerning people like you, who like owning and using handmade items. They sometimes ask me about particular pieces as they look around. Knowing the "how" and "what" of an individual piece of pottery seems to make it that much more interesting for them to own and use!

This pottery is made only by me, and sold only on my website and in person at The Gallery Downstairs. It is the closest-to-the-source you can get when shopping for handmade work!

I will email an individual, introductory coupon code to each of you, a one-time use, in gratitude for your helpful publicity and in honor of your good taste, to be used only on Sunday, March 23 through Tuesday, March 25, 2014. It will be good for 10% off everything you buy on those three days, either online or in The Gallery Downstairs!  But if you want that coupon, you must send your email address via the Contact form, please, so I will know how to find you!

I look forward to seeing you!

The Added Value of Handmade

Because I make each item by hand, even similar mugs, humblest of pottery creatures, are not exactly the same.

Buyers have the opportunity to buy THAT ONE. No, THAT one! Or... It may be the curve of a particular handle. The run of a glaze in JUST such a way. The slightly different curve of a particular rim. This experience is personal. 

It is a radically different experience from shopping at the china department in Macy's, or Bed Bath & Beyond. On my website (reachable on the above menu) and in The Gallery Downstairs (196 Windsor Way, Hillside, NJ), if someone likes something very much, but does not buy it when s/he "feels the like", it may be gone soon, and the next one will not be exactly like it. 

A human made it, a human with a range of aesthetic choices going on at every creative moment and wares that reflect them. Experience and continuing creative growth are in the work. Sometimes, serendipity also dances with my years of experience, for added value in the finished piece.

I didn't know exactly how this washing cup (click on highlighted words for price and information) would turn out, for example, as results will vary from a little to a lot, depending on thicknesses of glazes, areas of overlap, and where the pot sits in the kiln as it fires. The next one with these glazes will be a little different.

The lines on these bamboo-style vases (click on the highlighted words for prices and information) drew the red glaze into the indentations in the kiln firing, leaving lighter outlines around them. Each drawing on every piece, being incised into the clay freehand, is always at least a little different from the next, though often I make items with the look of "sets."

Handmade. Highly recommended.

Mug Days

Mug inventory is low! Making many mugs today on the new wheel. Looks like in May we'll have Mug Madness Days with a special sale on...you guessed it.

And a ginkgo goblet, just for fun.

The New Wheel Tests Me

Monday morning I bought the great little potter's stool that fits with my new electric wheel.

Shimpo stool has adjustable legs. I made the back one notch higher than the front to help my back.

So Monday, for the first time, I threw pots not on my trusty old kick wheel, but on the new electric. 

I felt a paradigm shifting.

 For a little while I was like a Ceramics I student. The clay was strangely hard to center. It seemed to need more water than before, somehow. But by the third bowl I was feeling better about things.

I did say the wheel would never be clean as new again...

I just like to keep the wheel fairly slow, it seems. I have been trained by using my old kick wheel.

Curious to see what changes, if any, ensue in the pottery. 

Thrown pottery isn't all about the wheel, though. Today I put homemade colored slips and commercial underglazes on some bowls and cookie jars. Now they are nearly halfway there. 

Damp clay pots drying before their first firing in the kiln. Colors are chalky now, but wait till you see them done!

It's all been a gift. Having the inclination, getting the education, the equipment and space, and having the energy and drive to follow through. There have been lots of frustrations along the way. I still open kilns and can't believe some of the cracking and ugliness. But then it's all about a whole effort, not random events; what an interesting life this is.

Two Tiny Onta Pots

I have a first cousin who is a potter. We do not live near each other, and have met just recently for the first time. 

We talked about pots, pottery places, pottery people, materials and techniques for hours. 

It was the happiest "geeky" I can get outside the Potters Guild of NJ.

She has a beautiful studio, full of light.

We began planning to meet some months ago. In the meantime, she went to Japan on a gardens-and-pottery tour. 

She brought home two little pots just for me. They are from Onta. The women of the potteries* in Onta process the local clay, rich and yellow in the raw state with iron oxide. The men of the potteries form them into pots on the wheel. The pots have white clay slip brushed and trailed on the surfaces, and chatter marks made with special trimming tools designed to hop over the skin of the pot lightly.

Now I have a teeny cup , and minuscule storage for something special, all the way from Onta village, Japan.

The yellow of the raw clay turned brown when fired in the kiln. The clear glaze darkens the brown further.

The covered jar is perhaps 3 1/2" tall with its lid on.

* A "pottery" is the place where pottery is made.

Turning 100

My mother's sister, Leah, celebrates her 100th birthday today, the third of her siblings to reach that age, with one more sister close behind . Here's to you, Aunt Leah!

This shining gal is my mother's sister.

Aunt Leah is one of a strong, opinionated and wonderful breed of human who lives life on her own terms to the best of her ability, working hard through her lifetime and trying to do it with style and grace despite serious adversity. Her century-mark is a remarkable milestone.

So today, inspired by my aunt, I choose to celebrate three potters, one living, who is nearly 100, and two now gone, who lived and worked beyond that age while continuing to do what they loved. 

Rose Cabat, whose 100th birthday is this June, is still working, making her "feelies."  There will be a major retrospective of her art at the Tucson Art Museum to coincide with her centennial.

found pinned on Pinterest- sorry I can't attribute this photo properly!

The "feelies" are easier to show than to explain.

They have satiny textures.

Their colors and surfaces are extraordinarily inviting.

Here is a photo of Beatrice Wood, who lived to 105 and till age 103 worked nearly every day in her studio in Ojai, California:

image found in her autobiography, I Shock Myself.

A set of Beatrice's lusterware. She experimented extensively with luster glazes & the work was carried for years at the Garth Clark Gallery, NYC.

And one of Beatrice's figures:

from oceansidemuseumofart.blogspot.com. Her sculptures were like her drawings, whimsical. 

Then there was the artist and industrial designer Eva Zeisel, who lived to 105 as well and was active in design nearly to the end of her life.

I can only aspire.

Happy birthday, Aunt Leah.

Go to School! or, The Long and Grinding Road

(Spoiler alert: This is short, but it hasn't a single photo. And it's didactic. Sometimes...I gotta preach.) 

I started out with some natural talent for drawing and a love of found materials for creating random art projects. That, some spare change and an application might have bought me an interview for art school.

But I didn’t get to go to art school. Even more than there being no money for such fripperies, I was told the usual: it was impractical, and might make me nuts, to boot. Somehow I managed to get a degree in English instead, because if I could not learn art I would write. I am still surprised over this turn of events. After all, it was not exactly a course of study any better inclined to earn me a living than art. 

I leave these bald facts there without further explication and just say that despite the lack of formal art education, if you are determined, do lots of reading, observing, practice and work, you will get much further than talent alone can ever take you. Talent is a speck of a starting point. I spent more than two decades learning the technical parts of this craft, and the practical aspects of turning it into a small business, before I started giving out business cards. I don't think the best is behind me yet, either.

Better business savvy is also ahead of me, I hope. While I have lots of practice and determination to keep my vision rolling and improving, business courses would have been a big plus. I struggle to apply what I keep learning. It would have been a good idea to pay attention in math over the years (duh). And art school would have been great back in my early 20s. Truly great. There are lots of "woulda, coulda, shouldas." I pay for it now in slow increments of change and development. I take classes and seminars when I can, and I consult my business experts- who did go to school and paid attention, too- when I need advice. 

I see some young extended family members and others fumbling about trying to make it in this society without the benefit of a good education. More than one happens to be artistically inclined. All I can think is about my own long trip to get here, where someone half my age with a good education in art and marketing might be, and I wish them well. It's nice to have talent. If you want to make a life in art, I highly recommend that you go to school. It's a long and grinding road doing it all on one's own.

Why The Studio Downstairs Means Solo, and Other Nitty Gritty

When I rebuilt my studio into a better workspace over a year ago, it looked like I would be able to offer classes there, the occasional birthday party, or a group session based on ideas like Mom's Night Out, or Make a Project With a Friend. These are good ideas. It turns out, after using the reconfigured studio, that it is a really ideal space... for one person. One person always in one phase or another of a project. One person who cleans one bit of space while filling up another bit of space with work in progress, so that there is no allover clear space at the end of the day. My studio is like a head full of ideas.

Just a year or so ago I thought I might be able to do it all. I blogged about the possibility of doing parties and classes in my studio space. But since then this web site has gone live, my gallery became a reality, I filled the studio with projects in progress and the gallery with finished work, and I had major surgery somewhere in the middle of all that. The list does not seem to lessen. (I will be glad to skip the surgery part though.) If I were to somehow throw classes for schoolchildren and children's birthday parties into the mix, it would have to be enabled by numerous studio elves. Alas, there seems to be a dearth of the little critters.

If you remember sparkling clean photos of the  newly rebuilt studio, here are the current counterparts. Reality.

The clay area as I left it yesterday afternoon. Magically, it  had not been cleaned up when I came back this morning.

The glaze area as left a few weeks ago, with unglazed ware, duds, glaze sample pots, glaze buckets... Where to put the pottery party?

I'm not sure why this doesn't look worse today. It looks, dare I say it, almost clean. But I just hung the shelves last week.

Making pottery keeps a person sooo real. You can't act like a royal princess and make pots. There is, let's say, making mugs, and then there's mopping up after work. Making bowls, and recycling the scrap clay left over. (And then mopping up.) Making vases, and weighing out ingredients to replenish homemade buckets of glaze. (And then, you got it, mopping up.) It's all work, whether I love every part of it or not. There's work that requires wearing protective gloves because it's hard on the hands, and work for which I need to wear a mask to protect my lungs. And there's the delightful work of carving designs into pots, which transcends most of the rest. (After which, yes, there's mopping up.)

Then there are taking photos and putting them on the website, doing the books, updating the inventory, pricing the work, cleaning the gallery (dusting as well as mopping!), assessing supplies, ordering materials, and taking trips to the supplier. I like unloading a kiln full of good pots, but not grinding and whitewashing the kiln shelves periodically between firings to clean and protect them from glaze drips, or the physical act of loading and unloading the kiln, which requires lots of leaning in and lifting. I like talking to people at shows, and selling work, but before that there's packing the work, getting to the show, unpacking, setting up the displays; and then afterward, breaking the displays back down after and re-packing the unsold wares. The creative part is good. Very good. But it is not free. And when I price something, it is not only about "How long did it take you to make that?" It's about so much more. Still (and even though I know very well that the term is relative) I try to keep the work affordable.

While I may not offer classes, you are most welcome to visit the gallery. Come on over in person! It will make all that mopping worth it. (Although we sanded floors upstairs yesterday, and now there seems to be a fresh cover of fine dust. It's called living!)

A Pair of Pots One Summer

Hot summer, 1986 or so, backyard, a pair of wooden stools standing in the grass. 

I had a couple of shallow bisqued bowls lying around my studio. I laid some white earthenware clay in each. I put them out on the two stools and set up clay, water and minimal tools. Then I went to work!

Building from those bases, I rolled big, fat coils of clay between my hands, and walking around the stools, one then the other, I added coils to the two pots. Engrossing task!

They grew taller. Soon I had two big pots going. 

I built them over the course of a few days, several inches taller each time. In between, I took them inside and covered them with plastic so they would not dry out. When the next day came, I brought them back outside and worked on them some more. They grew bigger and heavier.

They ended up fairly tall for me (then still a newbie with clay) and big around the body. 

Cave of Vines. Approximately 19" tall x 41" measured around the body. Cone 04 eartheware. By Mimi Stadler

Coreopsis Wind. Approximately 16" tall x 38" measured around the body. Cone 04 earthenware, underglazes. By Mimi Stadler

I pinched, pulled and paddled the coils into shape. The resulting pots were thick and heavy. The process was all by hand and so satisfying. I had no preconceived notions of what I could or could not do.

When the two pots had firmed up a bit I carved them, spritzed them with watered-down underglazes, and painted designs on them with full-strength underglazes right from the bottle. It was wonderful out there in the grass in the shade, in my summer yard.

Eventually I had these finished pots. Now they flank my fireplace. 

Cave of Vines brings back a woodland memory from childhood. 

Coreopsis Wind brings me a reminiscence of my garden when my children were small. 

The pots make me think of a hot summer in the throes of creative growth. 

I am never going to sell these.

A $20 Mug

Is $20 for a handmade mug expensive?

Eleven years ago (I remember because it was at a major family event) one of my brothers asked me why I make mugs. He said, "You can buy a mug at Walmart for cheap. Why would you make a mug for $20? Nobody will buy it." I responded, "If you don't see a difference between my mug and the one from Walmart, you should buy the one from Walmart!" 

I almost gave up making mugs. Even though I love to make them. Because there is truth in the Walmart comparison. Many people see price first.

Making a good mug is an art. The body must be light in weight and well-shaped for drinking. The handle must fit the hand and perform a balancing act so the contents of the mug don't end up on your lap. The surface must appeal. There should not be uncomfortable seams, or glaze that chips or stains easily.

A Walmart-type mug may be okay. In my experience, and based on what I see on people's mug shelves, the big-box store mugs often chip quickly, and the glaze usually begins to retain coffee or tea stains in the craze lines very soon. There's nothing particularly interesting about using them. They are cheap, utilitarian, and easily replaced. But the go-to mugs in a potter's cupboard will not be those. They will be the different ones, the one with interesting texture or shape, the ones with drinking lips that are neither too thick nor too thin, and that hold just the right amount of liquid to suit particular individuals.

Last year, after attending a workshop, I bought one of the workshop potter's $60 mugs. He gave me a courtesy price, because I am a potter too. It was still the most I had spent on a mug, but I enjoyed this mug for its shape, color and texture, and use it every day.

Steven Hill mug. I use this one all the time and love it.

This year, at a prestigious pottery show, I bought two mugs I liked, one for $55

Love the meticulously decorated, wood-fired surface of this Charity Davis Woodard mug.

and one for $30.

Wood-fired mug by Mark Shapiro. This one is the easiest to hold and the lightness of weight is a real pleasure.

I knew the art and labor that went into making them, especially how the most expensive one had been fired with a group of pots in a kiln that had to be fed with  wood over a 72-hour period to create some of those surface effects. These two potters did not give me a courtesy price for also being a potter. They were at a prestigious pottery sale, and a portion of their sales already was spoken for by the venue.  Potters selling at a show may end up making as little as 50% per item, and must build in fair wage for themselves. I was paying the potters their considered fair value; there is yet another layer to fair value- depending upon whether you are the buyer or the seller, of course. I am not a layman. I understand as a professional what the cost to the potter really is.

I still make mugs because they are so useful. And so beautiful. And so intimate. I don't fire my pots in a wood kiln (although I love the surface it gives the pots), so that cuts down radically on the labor of firing. But I give them good handles, good surfaces, pleasantly shaped bodies, and rims that are made to drink from. I do not cast them, ram-press them, or buy the mugs ready-made for "painting." I make each by hand, with care. And for these, I charge $20. It is up to the buyers to decide whether to go to Walmart, or to check out the mugs on my website (scroll down that page to see mugs!) or to come right to the gallery, hold various mugs in their hands, and decide which are just right for them.

Perfectly Imperfect

About 14 years ago, I had a visitor, around age 20, looking around my studio. He had no specific interest in pottery, but happened to be there because he worked at the camp where I ran the pottery room, and the day that camp ended for the season, I gave him a lift from camp as far as my house. While he waited for his ride for the rest of the way home, I had invited him to see my pots, which were different from the ceramic things I made with the kids at camp.

I showed him one I had recently  made and which I liked. I'd formed it as a cylindrical vase, then I had manipulated the sides and added dabs of clay so that it was off-round and (-I thought-) interesting. 

"But it's dented," he said, wrinkling his nose.

I could see that he knew it through his very pores. This thing was badly made. It is not an uncommon notion: The more perfectly, symmetrically  molded the thing, clearly, the better it is. 

I doubt he'd ever seen someone strive to alter a thing from perfect (perfectly boring) to something other (more interesting). Perfection is an acculturated thing, especially in societies where most of the items with which people come into contact are machine made.

I have a different notion. "Perfect" has little to do with the work I make. I like my work to function well, to look good, be interesting, beautiful, even thought-provoking. But most of all I like my work to have something soulful in it. Like human beings, the pots I like most are perfectly... imperfect.  

Thrown and altered vase, "Rabbit Portal", in a private collection. By Mimi Stadler.

Serving plate and bowl, made from rolled-out slabs of clay hand-manipulated into shape. In private collection. By Mimi Stadler.

Detail of relief tile made from a rolled-out slab of clay and carved by hand. One of a kind. By Mimi Stadler.

Thrown, hand-fluted and carved vase. Currently in private collection. By Mimi Stadler.

People are employed in ceramics factories that are equipped with ram presses and banks of casting molds. With these they rapidly make identical pots. Factory ceramics is a good commercial occupation. It employs people and produces repeatable, affordable wares. A place like that can turn out perfectly decent and even beautiful pottery. If you break one cast fine china plate or ram-pressed stoneware mug with cast handle, there will be another exactly like it available to replace it. Even I can see the excellent value in this.

On another end of mass production, using the same factory techniques but without finishing the surface, bisqued ware is trendy for recreational purposes. You can go to a "paint-your-own" shop, where you will be provided with the pottery bisque blanks you select, and you can buy and decorate it yourself right there. Your piece, exactly shaped like your friend's, will look different because you will "paint" it your own way.

But because customers never touch fresh clay, there is a certain sense of "Presto, change-o!" After customers brush glazes onto the pre-made pieces, they leave the kiln-firing part to the paint-your-own shop employees, and return to pick up the magically finished piece in a few days. This is a fun thing to do, and has its own validity. I have only one thing against it. The instant gratification found there fosters a lack of understanding of what it is like to take a bit of clay and turn it gradually, through experience and acquired expertise, into an unique work that begins well before the cosmetic skin of glaze is applied. The necessary, equal and opposite reaction on the part of a clay artist, is the necessity to educate people about what it is potters do, and why it has effortful complexity, as compared to the one-two-three-done that is experienced at "Paint-It-Yours".  

The experience of the studio potter is a sequence of learning and innovation that is like gathering seed, planting it, helping it grow and getting the end result born. Studio pottery in 2014 continues to be a cottage industry, a gentle backlash to assembly line automation, a challenge to individual creativity, and it is an educated endeavor significantly distinguished from hobby activities. The sequence of making pots professionally by hand reflects the human condition, which is flawed, laborious, and very interesting. Interesting pots are individuals, as I've said before and will again; perfectly imperfect. 

Move Over, Kick Wheel.

1979 or so: Greenwich Village street fair, bought a set of four stacking mugs from the potter who made them. Thought, "I'll bet I could do this!" Newlywed, still in college.

1981: Got busy with young family, but kept thinking about working with clay.

March, 1985: First lessons with a potter in East Rutherford, NJ. Hooked, but good. Continued busyness with family, but the clay was calling, too. Fall semester: back to college, which was unfinished business anyway, haunting the ceramics studio mornings, evenings and Sunday afternoons.

Summer 1986: Excitement! Bought my potter's wheel, a Lockerbie kickwheel. Put it in the basement away from the sump pump and laundry machines, set up a couple of shelves, and began making pots.

1987: Bought my first electric kiln, a clean-burning very-high-temp oven suitable for the suburbs.

1985-2013: Built a working life in clay, using my sturdy, wonderful kickwheel. Through a house move and the life and times of my family, I never put away the clay for long. Built a wonderful studio over time.

2013: After several false tries over a few years, finally launched a functional website to sell my work: http://www.mimistadlerpottery.com. Completed The Gallery Downstairs, 732-492-8558 (by appointment).

2014: Not such a kid any more. A combination of wear and tear on the body and a wish to make bigger, wider pieces on the wheel has convinced me to work smarter. Meet Brent IE, the new electric companion to my steady old Lockerbie! 

The new wheel, not yet moved into its new spot due to lack of studio elves just at the moment, needed to push the old wheel sideways. Look well; this wheel will never be this clean again. 

About an electric potter's wheel: For some, this is an expensive toy. 

For me, it is a familiar, professional, ever-growing means of expression, like a pen to a poet. It is a tool, not a toy.

It is also a challenge.

This is a blank spinning machine, with cold metal and plastic parts and bits of wire for electric connection. It does not have ideas. I do. But it is also like a fresh ballpoint pen that flows faster and smoother than the fountain pen that came before (which has its own, different beauty). A continuous speed may sometimes be a good thing when throwing, and sometimes not. I will see which pots want to be made more slowly, with a more gradual and contemplative process, as I have done for so long, and which pots want to be thrown at a higher rate of speed. The process of centering bigger pieces of clay will be much easier. For the rest, I will adapt. It may take a little while. It will be a learning process. Maybe I'll throw bigger. Maybe I'll throw wider. Time will tell.