Ceramics is the craft of turning a rock into another rock.
“Another rock” is political, territorial, emotional, loud and silent, everywhere and nowhere. It is time made tangible. It can be non-referential or remember the past that is with us; it can bring together a community or save an individual. It can be all or none of the above.
We collect the wild clay by understanding its geological past and present form, its soul.
We find it, it does not find us.
This act of finding becomes contemplation, of where we come from and how we are inherently a part of it. We are removing a part of the earth that won’t return to it the same way anymore. Foraging is an act of care, respect for/of a place. We forage together, collecting as a collective: as we get to know the clay we get to know each other.
Then processing begins: breaking it into smaller pieces with hands and tools, wedging with feet, adding water, wedging again. A visceral dance with the material, preparing it for its transformation. Sometimes we laugh and speak; other times it’s quiet, each in their own thoughts yet together in comfortable silence — a community.
A day later, the clay has rested and so have we. Making begins and I greet the clay with with curiosity. How will it be to work with? It isn’t only my hands directing the clay, the clay has a voice. It guides my hands, telling them what it wants to be, and I adapt. We make day and night. We learn from each other, about each other. The clay and ourselves become conduits for vulnerability and human connection. Cracks appear, but we welcome them.
Once finished, we prepare for the final transformation, fire.
