guest post: “Look what I found.” Thoughts about pottery by Steve S. Saroff

When I was ten years old, after my mother died, I often went
into the school library to be alone during lunch recess. The most
private nook was the science section. The bottom shelf had the biggest
books. One of them was a mineralogy book filled with photos of
crystals and diagrams of  chemical changes brought on by heat and
annealing.  There were explanations about oxidation and reduction.
There were instructions of how to make a flame blow-pipe to use with a
candle to do tests on minerals. There were photos of aiming the tip of
the hot flame at mineral streaks made on the back of a ceramic tile.
The photos showed how colors would be different depending on which part
of the flame – the blue oxidizing center or the orange glow of
reduction – touched the trace of minerals.
Solitude
with no goal is no comfort, but aimed at the discovery of the
mysterious,  with observations of matters great and small, solitude is
the cure for even the deepest sorrow. You can go out then come back and
say, “Look. See what I have found.”  The right sort of solitude leads
to the best sort of company.

I made a mineral test
kit:  A hand lens; A tile as a streak plate for scraping rocks; A
candle;  A pack of matches; A thin copper tube pinched at one end to 
just a pin hole;  A vial and eyedropper of weak hydrochloric  acid;  A
quartz crystal  and a few other minerals for the hardness test. A small
notebook. A pencil. A Swiss army knife.  Then I began looking for
rocks, especially ones with colors and crystals.  And I found them. And
I brought them back.

Rocks rapidly led to geology —
which is the study of time– which led to chemistry – which is the study
of mystery . Chemistry  led to math, which could have been perfect
except that I needed to work and make money, so math then pulled me
into writing software for computers which led to starting businesses.
Business is a deep sorrow  which has nothing to do with the way minute
streaks of minerals look when heated to 2,300 degrees in the absence,
or presence of oxygen. Copper will become black or green. Iron is a
rainbow if combined with just a hint of manganese and a smudge of
silicate.  These are things you can bring back. These are things that
can be shared.

When I met the woman who would become my
first wife, one of her classes was a pottery class. I went with her
one evening to the big studio on campus. Students were working on their
final projects and dipping bisqued cups into buckets of grey goop. In
the corner of the room was a cabinet filled with bottles.  A 50’ish man
was sitting near the cabinet  reading a newspaper and smoking a
cigarette, and when I walked over to read the labels on the bottles, he
said hello and asked if I was one of his students.  I told him no, but
told him I was the boyfriend of a student of his. He nodded, almost
went back to reading his paper, but instead asked that universal small
talk question of universities, “what are you studying?”

“Chemistry,” I said.

He
lowered his paper, looked at me. At that time, out of the 6,000
students on campus, there were only a few handfuls of chemistry majors.
He asked, “Really?” and we began to talk. We talked about clays and
their extra layers of bonded hydrates. We talked about bonding energy
and valance. We talked about the physics of heat, of enthalpy, of
photons and how all things glow, even when cold.  Then he said, “Hey,
let me show you how to throw a pot.”

My second wife
also liked pottery. She and I bought a used kick wheel and set up in
our backyard of the small house we shared for a few years on Missoula
avenue. But I was so busy with trying to make money that I don’t think I
ever touched the clay. And we had no kiln, so I never touched the
chemistry either. And then that marriage ran out and the wheel rusted 
in the rain.

But I always wanted to get back to
pottery. It is the perfect solitude. When I sat at a wheel and thought 
too hard, nothing worked. But when I became alone without thoughts, my
hands calmed me. I’ve never needed to make any cups or plates or bowls
– there is always something to drink or eat from – and  I’ve never
needed art credits or a social purpose to define myself — but I have,
ever since I was ten, needed discovery and surprise.  Pottery can be
that, and it is also has discoveries that can be  shared. The “Hey,
look at what I found,” like the rocks I carried back from mountain
tops, rocks with fossils or metal crystals, rocks with mystery. Perfect
solitude brings people together because we can share what we have
learned alone.
After a 30 year absence, I have been
re-learning how to throw porcelain. I spend hours just centering, and
most of what I have done ends up in the slip bucket.
But some of what shows up, coming out from the 2,345 temperature of the kilns, helps me say, “Look what I found.”  
©  Steve S. Saroff

British Ceramics Biennial and Ceramic Review Writing Prize

CR Writing Prize This year Ceramic Review is launching a new prize inspired by the British Ceramics Biennial to discover and stimulate new writing on ceramics. Entrants should write a short text that explores the BCB, Stoke-on-Trent’s ceramic heritage, or ceramics in general. Entrants are encouraged to be critical, theoretical, or experimental in their approach, and can submit up to 650 words. Writers, makers, and artists from all backgrounds are invited to submit their text to [email protected] by 13 November 2011. The winning entry will be published in an upcoming issue of the magazine and the winner will be awarded a two-year subscription. Bonnie Kemske, Ceramic Review Editor, explains the idea behind the prize: ‘People will always, and have always, talked about ceramics. With this prize we hope to give a greater voice to these discussions and to encourage a more critical approach and appreciation of the medium. Reviews, critical analysis, a short story, or a poem – we want to read it all.’ Guidelines for entry Entries should explore the BCB, Stoke-on-Trent’s ceramic heritage, or ceramics in general, and the competition is free to enter. Submit entries to [email protected] by 6pm on 13 November 2011. Entries should be by email only. Include your name, address, telephone number, and also the title of your entry in the body of the email. Do not send the entry text in the body of the email. Your submitted text of up to 650 words (poems can be no longer than 60 lines in length) should be sent as a Word document attachment to the email, headed with the title of the piece. No personal details should be included in the entry, but must be in the body of the email. You may submit one supporting image with your text; this should be submitted as a high-resolution digital image (300dpi) saved as a Jpeg, TIFF, or Photoshop file. You will receive confirmation of your submission via email. There is no restriction on the form or genre of your entry: we will accept poetry, short fiction, critical analysis, reviews, or experimental writing. All entries should be written in English, although the competition is open to international submissions. Entries should not have been published or accepted for publication elsewhere, including blogs, websites, and other social media, and not under consideration in any other competitions at time of entry. No corrections can be made after receipt of your entry. Eligibility You may submit either as an individual or as part of a collaboration, but each entrant may submit just one entry. There is no age restriction. The Judging Panel The Ceramic Review editorial team, and Amanda Fielding, independent curator and writer, and regular contributor to Ceramic Review. Prize There will be one overall winner to be notified by 30 November 2011. The winning entry will be published in a related issue of Ceramic Review by July 2012. The winner will also receive a two-year subscription (12 issues). Disclaimer The judges reserve the right not to select a winning entry if, in their opinion, no works entered reach a sufficiently high standard. The judging panel may select runners-up at their discretion and this may lead to publication. The judges are unable to comment on individual entries and cannot offer feedback. Copyright of the winning entry remains with the author, but Ceramic Review reserves the right to publish the winning entry/entries in its magazine and on its website, as well as retaining unrestricted rights to use the winning entries and any related material for PR purposes. Entries submitted posthumously will not be eligible. The judges’ decision (both as to eligibility and the winning entries) shall be final.See the website here.