Thursday, 25 February 2016

Moving on - or indeed standing still.

By the time it came to September 2015, and the start of both my second Adult Ed course, and Richard Phethean's evening workshops, I had managed to burn out the motor of my electric wheel, after many hours of producing what I considered to be mediocre, medium and small sized teabowls and vessels. I had subsequently attempted to build an alternative electric wheel, using parts from the original and a motor from a secondhand treadmill running machine, from a local man advertising it on Gumtree. Judging by the size of the guy, it seemed amazing that the running machine was in such good condition, and I can only assume that it had been one of those purchases that seemed a good idea at the time, until he had realised he would actually need to break a sweat if he was to reduce some of his considerable bulk. Anyway, having ripped the guts out of it, I was able to retrieve the motor and control pcb, and was very pleased with the end result. That is, until I started to use it, when I realised that the controls were very slow to respond and the wheel generally too fast, good for initial centring, but making it difficult to make any delicate finishing touches to almost completed pots. It also had a slight, but noticeable wobble! It had required quite a lot of work to get the wheel to the stage where I could sit in front of it, and begin to throw, so it was frustratingly disappointing to realise that this was not going to provide the answer going forward (an entirely unnecessary corporate phrase seemingly thrown into business conversations willy-nilly and needed no more at the end of this sentence than in many of those used in discussions between shiny-suited, self-important men, other than to prove a point about how pointless it is).

However, I had reached a stage where I needed to be making pottery, there was no turning back, but unlike many of the middle aged, mainly women (I imagine), who had been inspired by the recent BBC airing of 'The Great British Throw Down', (or 'Throw Up', as it was known in our house), I couldn't either afford or indeed justify paying up to a grand for a brand new Shimpo wheel (apparently the must have item in any new ceramics graduate's studio - for those lucky enough to find and be able to fund such a course or live comfortably with the student debt towering over them). I needed another means of making pottery, and you might imagine that my luck with wheels so far may have pointed me in a different direction by this stage, but no, I continued to fixate on throwing, so I was over the moon when I noticed a Gumtree advert offering an old electric wheel, free to a good home, and even more miraculously, located in the same village as us. On the 'gift horse' and 'mouth' basis, I gratefully accepted this offer, but unfortunately, following the hassle of lugging this heftie monstrosity of a wheel into my van for the half mile trip home, I was to discover just why it had been so freely given away. Although in theory fully working, it was in far from good condition, and my initial thoughts that I would easily be able to strip it down and recondition it, gave way to the rather more negative realisation that I would never be able to make much use of it. So, for several frustrating weeks, I relied on the use of wheels at both course venues to continue to develop my skills, whilst unable to practice between times.

Whilst less formal than the qualification based course offered by my local Adult Ed. service, Richard Phethean's evening workshops offered an excellent opportunity to reinforce the basics of throwing, whilst exploring the use of coloured decorating slips, that I hadn't previously used. Whilst the drive down to Penzance/Helston (a round trip just shy of 100 miles), just as what classes as a rush hour in Cornwall was getting going, was at times a bit of a pain, it was well worth it, and I can recommend Richard's classes to anyone, and would welcome the opportunity to attend again at some stage in the future. Richard is a very affable and amusing tutor, with many a tale to tell, whose knowledge of ceramics seems second to none (as well as being the current chair of the CPA, he is an authority on throwing and author of 'Throwing', part of the New Ceramics series, published by A & C Black). He teaches in a very casual but informed manner, and everyone seemed to both enjoy the sessions and gain enormously from his instruction. Though the series of ten classes that I signed up for were over far too soon, I feel I finally began to produce some more mature pieces that took me to a new (and thankfully higher) level, despite being clearly influenced by Richard's direction.





Sunday, 21 February 2016

Level 1 - A (not so) brief glimpse at a growing obsession

I'm not sure if it's a necessary part of blogging etiquette or not, but having not added a second post to my new, and only, blog, since the day I started it, I feel the need to apologise to those waiting, breathe baited, for my next update. Quite who those unfortunate souls might be, or indeed, what the actual purpose of my blogging is, I have absolutely no idea. But if it acts as a useful journal of my ceramic career to date, it might at some future stage be helpful to me in my increasingly forgetful state, and, who knows, may even be of some passing interest to others. At the very least, it is doing no harm to anyone, as far as I know, and might even provide a welcome relief from the ever increasing political turmoil that we as a race seem hell bent on creating.

That said, it is over a year since I started my first, Level 1 NCFE course in pottery run by the Cornwall Adult Ed Service. Initially, I started the course, for an entirely unknown reason, with a view to learning and gaining experience of mould making and slip casting. Consequently, it was with a heavy heart that I left the very first session, having been told that the course would not cover these aspects of pottery, which were themselves outside the experience of Penny, our tutor. After a few early sessions, I began to realise that any thoughts I had of creating professional looking pots using the most basic of introductory techniques of pinching and coiling, seemed an awfully long way off. However, it was not uninteresting learning some of these basics, and we created a series of tiles so that we could test the different oxides and glazes available to us. That said, I was very keen to move on to what I considered to be rather more advanced techniques that offered more potential for producing successful results. The introduction to throwing covered all the basics of centring, hollowing out, and opening up, and within the first two hour session, I was moderately pleased with my largely asymmetrical results. It was not long before my one session per week was proving to be frustratingly inadequate, and I was soon looking for a potters wheel that would enable me to continue my experimentation at home between lessons. My first wheel, collected one damp November evening from Stoke-on-Trent, was a Wenger kick wheel. Sturdily built, and coming from the heart of the British Ceramics Industry, I felt I should have been able to turn out more professional pots within days of manhandling it out of my van and into the shed. However, as ever, it didn't quite turn out that way. Though I managed to produce some reasonable results, I always struggled to maintain a constant speed, and found it difficult to brace my elbows and forearms sufficiently to centre the clay as exactly as on the electric wheels at my Tuesday evening class, because of the constant movement of my left leg.

Working small on my Wenger kick wheel.





Selection of early earthenware pots

It wasn't long before my obsessional side was demanding what I considered to be a more professional means of production, and when I saw an electric wheel for sale on Ebay, in Cornwall, I decided I must have it, if I was to produce items of a higher quality, and more importantly, on a larger scale. From the very beginning, I wanted to be in a position to create large scale pots. My Internet research for the project we were required to produce for the Level 1 qualification, had made me aware of some of the greats of contemporary ceramics, like Nic Collins, Svend Bayer and Lee Kang-hyo (if you have any interest whatsoever in pottery, and if you're reading this, I hope you have at least a passing regard for the craft, or you'll quickly begin to find this blog increasingly dull, you should find the time to take a look at the Goldmark Gallery video on this fascinating character and the way he creates his beautifully massive pots - visit You Tube to learn about the work of Lee Kang-hyo ) all of whom work on a wonderfully large scale, and I, for a reason I have yet to comprehend, aspired to recreate work of a similar size.

On second thoughts, having reread the above paragraph, I feel I might be doing you a disservice by suggesting that only those with an interest in pottery should view the You tube video linked above. In fact,  I recommend it to all of you reading this as it may just refresh your belief in human kind, in offering a privileged glimpse into the world of a man at peace with himself and his work.

Anyway, back to the tale of my own progress towards clay-based enlightenment. 
Small earthenware bowl decorated with copper oxide and turquoise crackle glaze.
By the time I completed that first course, and was awarded my first ever qualification in ceramics, I was spending most of my spare time, working on my electric wheel, and producing endless small teabowls, and struggling to throw anything larger. Whilst pleased with the developing refinement of my thrown bowls, I was still frustrated not to be able to produce work on a larger scale. I was also disheartened by the lack of opportunity to further my ceramic learning in Cornwall at an affordable price. Having released a passion for working with clay, I was keen to pursue it further, much further. So much so, that I considered enrolling on the Contemporary Creative Practice degree course at Cornwall College, specialising in Ceramics. Unfortunately, having discussed this with the head of department, to establish the feasibility of studying part-time, whilst continuing to work; further investigation into how I might fund the course led nowhere, unless I was prepared to take on a huge new debt. Quite how we arrived at a stage where the desire to learn, meant undertaking to pay back a loan larger than the mortgage I took out on my first house, I have no idea, but am predisposed to blame Mrs. Thatcher, who. lets face it, is solely responsible for most of the negatives of modern British society, one way or another.  

As you can imagine, my progress seemed to have come to a halt. I would have to fathom it out on my own, with the help of You Tube. Possibly not the best way to proceed, so it was with relief when I received a call from my tutor, Penny, to let me know that the Adult Ed. service would be offering a Level 2 course starting in September 2015. At the same time, I also discovered that Richard Phethean, current chairman of the CPA, who had moved from London to Cornwall the previous year, had set up his workshop and was offering evening courses. I enrolled on a series of ten sessions. In the space of a couple of months, I'd gone from completing my first course, struggled to find a higher level course, then ended up enrolled on two separate courses. I couldn't wait.