I build these vessels out of coils made from a simple stoneware clay body. In order to give the clay added strength (during both building and firing) I tweak the recipe by adding extra grog and a handful of nylon fibers. I begin the process by wheelthrowing something that looks like a dog bowl, and then I stack four coils on its rim and blend them together. Once blended and smoothed (by kicking the wheel and using a wooden rib to flatten the clay), I let the wall dry and stiffen a bit. Then I stack four more, and so on… This is a relatively straightforward method. It’s not as easy as it looks though, as it requires both decent wheelthrowing skills and an understanding of how clay responds to water, compression, drying, etc., but with practice it gets easier. I tend to use a serrated (i.e. toothed) metal scraper to score the coil lengthwise before pressing it onto the rim. I usually don’t use any slip unless the rim has dried and there is a slight difference in the moisture content between the rim and the next coil.

The real trickery comes in when it’s time to create a second (or third… or fourth…) wall, as I did in Fornix Vessel. This is the part that tends to mystify people. It’s really not that difficult once you get the hang of the basic process. Unlike a small double-walled vessel thrown on a wheel, in these large vessels the extra wall is simply added onto the surface of the existing wall. The picture shows two extra coils added to the surface of the vessel. I decided that my usual four-coil method wasn’t going to work in this delicate step, so I held back and initially used only two. The most difficult part after this is keeping up with two walls separately without damaging one while working on the other. I tend to have several oddly shaped wooden tools at hand so I can get between the two walls and keep smoothing them as I move along, adding more coils to each wall.

The plans for this particular double-walled vessel are pictured on the bottom right of my sketchbook. Once carved, the vessel’s body will vaguely resemble a human skull placed vertically on end (with sutures that are still growing together) while the top fluted part will stay vessel-like and relatively traditional. Currently I am imagining the top in a red glaze, but I rarely plan the colors and textures before seeing the finished form.

The second of the two vessels that I’m currently working on is pictured in the upper right-hand corner of the sketchbook. This one is quite challenging, and I’m not sure that it will even work out, but I’m giving it a shot. Basically, right now I’m throwing the vessel itself. Later I’ll be worrying about cutting it in half, attaching it to a plinth or base of sorts, and adding “ribs.” You can see the work in progress in the foreground of the next picture. As revealed by this photo, the fluted top is something that I throw separately and then attach to the rest of the vessel. The neck is just too narrow and subtle of a form to be made out of coils. In the following step I will use a ribbon tool to trim away the additional clay where the seam is slightly mismatched.

With this basic method for coiling a large vessel, I like to play with variations and challenges. In Eggshell Vessel, I threw the fluted top separately as usual (making sure that the bottom of this part was much wider than the top) and then flipped it upside-down into the large form. Once it all meshed and stiffened a bit, I continued coiling as though I never added the upside-down fluted form, and at some point along the way I trimmed off the excess clay that was protruding from the sides. The “broken through” opening was something that I carved out at the very end.

Did this entry clarify things or just create more questions? It is relatively concise (considering how much subtlety goes into ceramic work!), so my intern and I will make a much more detailed step-by-step account of this process, most likely in April. Having a second set of hands will help, since taking timed pictures while working is otherwise kind of impossible without a fancy camera… and, well, you know the sorts of cameras I tend to work with.

This question comes up frequently in theoretical discussions, so I decided to share my current take on the matter here on my blog. I find it easier to explain my position on art by supporting it with something that has at least somewhat of a unanimously assigned cultural function. Science works well for me in this regard; I believe that science is closely related to art. It’s easiest to see the connection between science and art by observing how closely they worked together throughout the Renaissance. But that’s a whole other topic.

So here it goes, the purpose of art (and how it compares to the purpose of science):

If the purpose of science is to seek answers to what we don’t know yet, perhaps the purpose of art is to question what we think we already know. With this in mind, I can see how the two fields can be perceived as contrasting, but to me they really are two sides of the same coin. I never saw art as a form of expression, nor a quest for beauty. I think that these cliches have been falsely ascribed to artists. Art may appear to have these purposes when seen from the other end: from the standpoint of the viewer, historian, or critic (perhaps because the end result of the art process may appear expressive or beautiful) but I don’t believe that most artists enter the field with egotistic or hedonistic motives. There is always an exploration at hand. It often feels as though I am curiously searching for a new way of characterizing something. But that is probably putting it too simply.

An even more important thing to consider here is the value that we place on the two fields. I think it’s safe to say that science is commonly perceived as more valuable than art in its purpose. I’m basing this on the amount of funding, public attention, and common daily references to both fields. I think that this imbalance is detrimental to humankind. As much as we find it useful to seek structure and make sense of the world, it’s just as important to examine and investigate our paradigms and biases.