Story of a bowl

Published 5:00 pm Wednesday, June 27, 2012

I found a strata of natural clay on the east side of Willapa Bay. The vein had been sheared off by erosion, by the tug of tide and a war with natural elements, wind and rain and many monster storms. In the sunlight the clay spangled like the back of a rainbow trout.

The tide was out, way out. I didnt have to claw away at the cliff face. Like leftovers from an earth celebration, chunks of dense pure clay lay scattered along the beach. At low tide, it was easy to gather, but carrying the heavy material up the cliff proved arduous. That wasnt a problem very little comes free in life.

I dried the clay for a week, then chopped and smashed the scraps into small chunks and then into rough dust. I submerged the earth in more buckets of water, added porcelain scrap (leftovers from pot trimmings and failures, along the way). And grog. And then handfuls of crushed feldspar and granite. I then stirred the precious silver mud with a steel paddle attached to a large electric drill. A day later, all of this was filtered through a one-quarter-inch screen. I dried the wet clay on plaster slabs and began the process of wedging the soft clay into 5-pound balls, kind of like kneading bread. The entire process took a number of days.

Centering clay is Zen-like and adheres to a similar philosophy. A potter named Paulus Berensohn wrote a book, Finding Ones Way with Clay. In that book, he stresses a kind of dance with clay, or a dance with the spirit of clay. Dance is art and art is dance, and art takes on many shapes. Make no mistake, the execution of pottery often constitutes an art form. Ask the Japanese, who revere their potters. Are you ready America? A few Japanese potters are actually designated as national treasures. On that smattering of islands, pottery shards date back 12,000 years. In Japan, Korea and China, ancient tea bowls are guarded and revered.

In the Columbia-Pacific region, there is a strong potters community that crosses both sides of the river. Cooperation seems natural and spontaneous. Frequently driving the local potters bus is Richard Rowland. Potters such as Chinooks Rod-Maxwell Muir and others reach back generations. Rowland (and the entire potters community) is particularly noted for a huge contribution to the Bowls Project, a many-month commitment to throwing and firing (many in the Anagama kiln) hundreds of bowls for the Womens Resource Center.

Rowland loves clay. It might be fair to say that his religion is clay. He pursues the clay form with a passion bordering on obsession, and I say that with total respect. Finding Ones Way as an artist takes that kind of commitment. It also takes gobs of attention to detail. It takes a love of fire. The wood-fired Anagama kiln reaches temperatures around 2,400 degrees. Standing in front of that kind of heat takes nerves of steel. One encounters oneself around flame.

Clay is centered, opened and pulled until the wall of the vessel is drawn thin. That wall is then shaped into an intended destination, into a declared shape or form. Spontaneity is coveted, but years of practice remain essential.

There are winter bowls with the sides closed or drawn in. The practice is intended to keep the tea warm during the long winter months. A summer bowl opens up to the elements, like flower blossoms to the summer sun. The flared opening allows the tea to cool more rapidly. The marriage of tea and stoneware bowl is simply an extension of hospitality and refinement.

Ultimately, bowls are bisque fired (prefired) and later glazed. Glaze materials generally are composed of natural clays and natural fluxes. Mixed into a creamy consistency with water, the glaze is applied to the bisque body and then fired at high heat, often, in the Anagama kiln, for many days. The Anagama or Dragon Kiln firing consumes six, seven or eight cords of wood during the extended firing. A body of people remains necessary for the success of that firing. Around-the-clock participation is a given, but Berensohns dance makes the difference between success or failure, makes the difference in the dance of color and form and the surprise and mystery of the fired clay vessel.

Rowland never fails to acknowledge the community in his quest for the perfect bowl or the perfect clay pot. He and his wife Patty remain a gift to our community. I have known and respected the couple for years. I have learned patience and craft and the art of clay dance from Richard and others in the potters community. From Patty, I have learned the art of quietly giving.

The act of throwing a simple clay bowl embodies both commitment and a quest for quality. Rowland and so many others have found their way with clay. Rod, Jan Richardson, Doug Shadbolt, Loren Cross and many others have consummated a dance with fire and earth and the Great Clay Galaxy. When you hold a stoneware bowl in your hands, remember the fire that created us, that orb of clay and rock that cooled, like the clay bowls in the earth kiln, and ultimately shaped who we are. Remember the story of a clay bowl and the community of potters.