Hi All,

The following opportunity is available immediately and lease terms are negotiable.  This space was home to a successful pottery business for over 25 years and is in a wonderful, wooded setting.  The facilities are in top condition and offer a terrific chance for a “dream studio” in the country.

Please contact me, as noted below, for full details.  This studio belonged to a long term friend and I am trying to help keep the tradition going.

 

Pottery studio available for rent.   Large, aesthetically pleasing and rustic space with extensive working area, shelving and counters.   The studio and grounds are located about halfway between Frederick and Thurmont, Maryland.   Large windows overlook a beautiful wooded area adjacent to the Monocacy River.   Options are available for use of electric and wood kilns on property.  Studio rental is $300 per month for sole occupancy.  Electricity is not included, and is subject to usage.  The current bill is $18.  There is a very good wood stove and enough wood for years of free fuel.  The utility bill would be higher if the electric kiln is used.  This is a special space requiring a special person to take advantage of this unique location.  It really is a knockout.    Contact:  Bruce Bowers, (301) 646-3481, OR sailoor47@aol.com  OR  www.bowerswoodfireandpics.com. 

Here are some photos:

Any of you who have an interest in Zen Buddhism may find the following link interesting. 
It is where I have been practicing for several years.

http://dczen.homestead.com/

Yes. This is a Manibigama II kiln that has been fired for 36 hours and down
fired for 8 hours. Great results are possible with this method of firing,
but it works best if the temperature is held for about 18+ hours between
C/8 and C/9. Final temperature range is 10 at front and 8 at back. This
is made possible by partially blocking the upper flue in order to force heat
down into the lower rear of the kiln. Without this, you will need to go
to at least 12 in the front to hit 10 - 11 in the back....or lower.
The shelves should be 24" wide and 12" deep; leaving a few inches on each
side. Also, don't tighten up the setting too much. 9" posts or higher
work best. I have also fast fired this kiln (over thirty firings of various
kinds) and it's great for quick ash buildup and very high temperature. It's
just not the result that I am looking for. Good luck.

Unloading Day, October 9, 2010

The original plan was to fire this load of pots to C/11 at the front of the kiln and C/8 at the back.  It proved difficult and, as a result, we
took the front up to C/12+ in order to get the back where we wanted it.  Appropriate clays were used in different parts of the kiln;
anticipating a 2 -3 cone differential in temperature.
At first, everything looked fine.  There were many fine pots that came from this firing.  This one, at the back and at C/9 half down
displayed "the best of dunting."  This was in spite of being a body that I have used several times in the past.
All told, you can only control what you can control.....no more.  Some events are just the result of the material expressing its intolerance of conditions. 

 

I am anxiously awaiting the unloading process from our October 1-3 firing at La Paz for in Delaplane, Virginia.  We tried a new form (for us) of "down firing" that included the use of soaked, but seasoned wood.  We tried for moderation, letting the kiln fully oxidize before each new stoke.  We stopped the process at about 1590F. with a fairly heavy stoke and are hopeful that, between that and the very high ember pit, we will come up with a nice mix of flashing effects.  At this point, we've surrendered to the kiln and will be grateful for whatever results we get. 
Sometimes a first firing is just a step along the way in uncovering what our materials have to tell us. Almost all pots in this firing are compounded largely from clay from Stancill's mine in Perryville, Maryland.

 

After recently reading a series of comments about whether what we create is “new” or not, it occurred to me that this is a very ego centered way of approaching our work.

If we think of the pottery that has, from an aesthetic standpoint, endured through the ages, almost all of it is pretty egoless.  The Kizaemon Tea Bowl is a perfect example.

In the interchange of comments, the argument centered around the issue of “new and creative; individual and contemporary,” and the possibility that one’s perception of their work as revolutionary may only be due to a lack of knowledge of what has previously been created.

Who cares?.........everything, just like every sunrise, is new.  What we make is the result of the causes and conditions that we as individuals, and the entire universe, have manifested in the moments of creative activity.  Where else can the work come from?  New/old/original/contemporary/revolutionary are all just words.  Reality is the pot as it exists moment by moment….always changing and always new.

First you have a hunk of clay, then forming starts, then all of the activities leading up to the “final” pot are enacted.  But, the pot is not really “final.”  It changes when you put a flower in it, when you eat from it, when you look at it in changing light.  It is never really finished, even when it breaks.

It seems that the point of making pots is the joy that one gets from seeing this ever changing object, not from the naming of it.  Pots change just like we do, and there is nothing that can be done to stop it. 

After throwing all day, I ran across a section of the book, "The Unknown Craftsman," by Soetsu Yanagi, and was struck by the description of his reaction to seeing The Kizaemon Tea Bowl (shown above.)  Here is what he said:

"This single Tea-bowl is considered to be the finest in the world. . . . to contain the essence of Tea. . . .

In 1931 I was shown this bowl in company with my friend, the potter Kanjiro Kawai. For a long time I had wished to see this Kizaemon bowl. I had expected to see that "essence of Tea," the seeing eye of Tea masters, and to test my own perception; for it is the embodiment in miniature of beauty, of the love of beauty, of the philosophy of beauty, and of the relationship of beauty and life. It was within box after box, five deep, buried in wool and wrapped in purple silk.

When I saw it, my heart fell. A good Tea-bowl, yes, but how ordinary! So simple, no more ordinary thing could be imagined. There is not a trace of ornament, not a trace of calculation. It is just a Korean food bowl . . . that a poor man would use everyday. . . .

A typical thing for his use; costing next to nothing . . . an article without the flavour of personality; used carelessly by its owner; bought without pride; something anyone could have bought anywhere and everywhere. . . . The kiln was a wretched affair; the firing careless. Sand had stuck to the pot, but nobody minded; no one invested the thing with any dreams. It is enough to make one give up working as a potter. . . .

But that was as it should be. The plain and unagitated, the uncalculated, the harmless, the straightforward, the natural, the innocent, the humble, the modest: where does beauty lie if not in these qualities? The meek, the austere, the unornate—they are the natural characteristics that gain man's affection and respect."

Yesterday afternoon, here in Montgomery County, Maryland, we had a severe storm with winds up to 75 MPH.  I work outside under a covered area in the warm weather and have about 150 pots made, still raw clay, for an upcoming wood firing.  When I saw the storm warning pop up on my computer screen, I immediately ran out and Merrellyn and I shuttled all the work into the lower back door of the house.

When I got dried off and started arranging the work, I occurred to me that I couldn’t even remember the process of making most of the stuff.  It was like looking at someone else’s work.  The shelves outside are pretty tightly arranged and so, after a while, I just feel as if I am surrounded by a wall of pots.  Placing them in a new environment really helped me see them in a fresh light.  This morning, my clay recycling containers got lots of new visitors. 

Another interesting observation I made was that the pots that felt the best were the ones that emerged during long, rhythmical throwing sessions;  kind of the way an old Coltrane tune like, “My Favorite Things,” starts out pretty self consciously and goes to places that couldn’t be pre-planned.  If I sit down and try to make a “good pot,” it doesn’t generally work.  The more egoless, and more honest ones seems to come out of the efforts that arise during spontaneous activity.

Today, the 100 degree heat wave abated a bit and working outside for a longer time was easier.  I made a lot of stuff….no preliminary sketches, etc.  Maybe today’s work will yield some pots that work in synch with nature.  I’ll find out after the next storm.

 

 

Kawai Kanjiro Studies his Work......I wonder if he felt the same way.

 

 

 

How I Try to Approach My Work

Wood fired pots can be visually challenging.  A certain aesthetic needs to be embraced to fully appreciate the wealth of chance effects, accidents, and changes that occur with this mercurial firing technique.   Old ideas of beauty may need to be expanded in order to open up space for this new dimension.

There is, without question, a dynamic relationship between the makeup of the artist, the process, and that which is made.  When these three elements coalesce, it’s like three rocks hitting each other, mid air - crack!  The beauty of this correlation is that it can be manifest in the work of less experienced potters/artists, as well as in the efforts of old hands.  

Bernard Leach hit it squarely when he said, “The pot is the man; his virtues and vices are shown within – no disguise is possible.”  Sometimes it is very easy to see how art reflects its creator.  If we step outside of ceramics for a moment and look at the lives and work of two artists from different media, the point becomes clear.  Jackson Pollack was one of the more colorful, conflicted, and impulsive personalities of the Abstract Expressionist movement.  His work shows it.  His spontaneous approach and jarring images are a reflection of the man.  They are the man.  Likewise, if one looks at the quasi surreal boxes of Joseph Cornell, with their references to Victorian imagery and their precisely controlled construction, we can see that they, too, are a reflection of the artist; in this case, one who led a very staid and conventional life.  Works by both artists are, of course, expressions of genius.

My own pots are typically pretty loose, and wood firing is a perfect fit.  They can take a hit, visually.   Pots can be kind of like the shirts we wear.  When I wear a denim work shirt in my studio, a splash of clay looks great on it.  On a freshly pressed dress shirt, a splash of clay just looks like dirt.    Some of the most famous varieties of wood fired pots present in a similar way.  American Jugtown pots tend to be pretty plain; pretty casual.  Japanese Shigaraki pots are really loose.  They can both take a hammering from fly ash and kiln accidents and, as a result, look like they’ve come home.    Extremely precise, detail laden forms have a harder time.

The progression of forces that start a fire is always the same; but flame follows its own path, based on the causes and conditions that arise each moment.   Pots that have been through it carry part of it with them in the form of ash and vapor flashing.  Flame is a primordial fluxing agent and it emphasizes, articulates, and gives voice to subtleties of form.  It never makes a poor form better, but it can emphasize the highlights of a strong one.

A highly successful pot is usually the product of years of getting one’s chops down with the basics of technique, form, design, and materials.  Then muscular memory, aesthetic sensibility, and the clay take over.   Nothing can be forced.  Materials and processes speak.  When they do, their voice is the same as yours.

This evening, I had a small pile of trimming scraps that I dipped in water and quickly wedged.  I threw one last bowl of the day.  I decided to carve its foot while very soft.   The wet clay stuck to the tool, oozed over the edge, and adhered to the lower wall of the bowl.  My ring finger tapped the stray piece of clay; stay there.  It felt just right.  Maybe the fire will point it out.  How was this motion different from a pianist hitting an unrehearsed key, or a painter twisting his brush without thought?  I don’t think it was.  These actions all arise from a deep well; one that is always full, always ready to share its contents, but unfathomable and difficult to access; especially when we try too hard.   This well, partly a mystery and partly our storehouse of experience, is the birthplace of art - as a dancing and vital entity.

When we concentrate fully on our work, it’s only the eyes, the hands, and the clay that matter; the work will come from a place that is both unconditioned and constantly changing.   The kind of concentration necessary to connect with your material can’t be realized without a clear head; a clean eye.   Clay is a remarkable medium in that its nature is one of fluidity and transformation.   When you make a truly “clay” pot, you see it and you know it. 

If someone has a very precise picture, in their mind’s eye, of what their pot should look like after firing, they miss a great opportunity.  The very best that pot can be, to its maker, is something that is identical to his idea.  If we let go of all this, the entire contents of a kiln can be our teacher and can take us to new and exciting places.   The fired kiln is alive with beauty.  It is only the imposition of our stories and expectations that kills it.  If pots could speak, they could tell us astonishing stories about their experiences in the flames.  Being fired with wood must be a pot’s version of shooting the rapids on the Colorado River.  We can be part of that trip.

One thing I am quite certain of is that everyone needs to surrender to a process that is both in league with nature and that is beyond their ability to touch.  Waiving the white flag may be the key to a new realm of enjoyment.

The next time you start to throw that “ugly orphan” into the landfill, stop your hand for a moment.  Put your pot down on an old board, stick a weed in it and watch it change; the pot and the board and the weed.   They all change together; along with you.  Live with your funny little pots for a while and see what they have to offer.  You may be surprised.

 

                                                       First Light of Day

The first light of day is a time that, after firing all night, splitting wood, watching the kiln, trying to control the uncontrollable, that I often lose touch with the pots being fired.  This is one of my favorite and, to me, richest parts of the entire pot making process.  Total involvement in the rhythm of the firing helps me forget the work in the kiln so that I can look at it with a fresh eye on unpacking day.  The pots I like the best are the most egoless ones; the ones that only show the lightest touch of my hand......the ones that seem to have just sort of "come into being".....moment by moment.