There is a sense of the mechanised machine about a pulse. The humming vibrations that monitor the mechanical existance have a regular, predictable, consistency, which is (one hopes) the quality of our mortal pulse. It too monitors an existance, our fragile life. But with all pulses there can be glitches, times when they wobble, speed up, slow down, become unpredictable. Barely felt and if so, with an element of surprise, it is, ironically, with these uncertain qualities that David Pottinger’s recent ceramics reveal their vitality.
The long Gallery 1 of Craft Victoria offers nineteen ceramic vessels arranged in the gallery on plinths in a linear fashion. They are of similar size to each other, between 20 – 30 cms high, and similar form – variations of a flat-based cylinder. If one were not interested in ceramics it might be tempting to turn away at this point. But something beckons and closer observation reveals the surface of each object to be highly decorated, intricately patterned with complex and rhythmic “weavings”.
" In muted organic tones of greys, browns, pale blues and creams the patterns are barely discernable from a distance but spiced with touches of orange, yellow and black they come alive in close proximity".
Each pattern is quite different from the others, demanding comparisons and cross-references between the vessels. It seems that the placement has been designed to convey a certain mood or conversation between the three or four pieces on each plinth, and again between each group whereby the space between the plinths punctuate the whole. The title of the exhibition begins to reveal itself as the objects resonate and vibrate, not only with each other but also within the depths of each pattern. It is this depth of surface that draws one closer to inspect the detail, the life within.
Ceramics by David Pottinger, photography: Li Yen Quah
The surfaces of the cylinders have echoes of all sorts of visual references where the element of chance plays with an artist’s skill within the framework of a technique. Techniques of basketry, Egyptian glass, the fused metal technique of Mokume Gane and Ikat weaving come to mind. Like Ikat, where the warp and weft are pre-dyed so that when woven together create complex patterns, most of the work is in the planning and pre-dying. But there is a certain element of chance where slight differences bring an organic, hesitant softness to the final weaving, that enriches the work. This is where the interest lies for me. Although Pottinger’s cylinders show a clever, satisfying, variety in the planning stages of the patterning it would be erroneous to think they could or should be machine made. The minute differences of patterning or the serendipitous moment when one colour meets another, slightly differently from the expected, create intimate comparisons and explorations for the eye. The eye also searches for variety and the pieces that work best have a counter pattern in bolder colours running diagonally through the base pattern. Large Box Bowl (3b) for example, has a wonderful black and white line weaving through it that brings further depth to the already complex base pattern.
The element of chance is curious. It ordains that the final piece cannot be entirely planned. For the artist there must be delight found in the surprises that appear, like a photograph being developed, unseen until the final moment of revelation. For the viewer the delight is to be found in the intimate exploration of each vessel and discovering almost hidden moments of intrigue. Pottinger’s statement in the gallery list of works outlines his intention to explore how ‘rhythmic linear patterns change the perception of structure and form’. This may well be his intention however I was more captivated by this energy between the planned and the unplanned surface. The forms, despite subtle differences in rims and size, still appeared as cylinders, “canvasses” for each different surface patterning and I was left with the question: do these cylinders achieve enough variety as forms?
The surfaces are where it’s all happening. Not mere decoration applied as an afterthought, the clay itself is impregnated with the pattern. It therefore appears on the inside surface exactly as if a mirror to the outside. The technique used by Pottinger to create these forms is one commonly known in the ceramics world as Neriage, (neh-li-ah-gay), a Japanese term (though a widely used technique) that refers to the layering, cutting and fusing of different coloured clays. Pottinger doesn’t refer to the technique in his exhibition statement yet this is one of the most technical exhibitions I’ve seen in a long time.
"It is often the case that contemporary craftspeople downplay their skills and the incredible techniques utilised to produce their work. There may be a fear that by focusing on technique the interpretation of the work might appear narrow and restrictive. But somehow, in this time of ideas and concepts, sampling and individual pursuit, skills and techniques and the time taken to acquire them seem to have a newfound resonance, homage to our humanity perhaps".
Pottinger’s technique deserves some attention. I imagine most people would be fascinated to learn about it. Rather than restricting the interpretation of his work I believe it would illuminate it. I like to think that the acquisition of skills is a little bit like a family tree. It is possible to trace connections through the work and in this way the work becomes more meaningful. It doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. There are real and important influences and connections. Regardless of the absence of an explanation, just by using this technique in such a unique and complex way Pottinger joins a select tribe and does so with a virtuosity equalling the best. First developed in Tang dynasty China in 8thC and later in Japan, Neriage continues to have its strongest contemporary practice in Japan today, debatably lead by the living national treasure Ito Sekisui V. There are also high profile western ceramic artists who workshop and practice this complex technique such as Dorothy Feiblem an (UK) who continue to exert great influence.
The idea of fusing a number of layers of a material together is not new – glass, metal, wood, and plastic all have their methods – but what Pottinger does with those layers is fascinating. Cut in cross-section to reveal the layering, rejoined in different configurations or patterns, cut again in cross-section, and rejoined again, the complexity is dazzling. Of course I’m guessing at the process a bit! But the one thing certain is its riskiness. Clay joins can come apart at any time of the drying or firing process as the material shrinks. Therefore just to get to first base, to prepare the clay for making the object, takes an enormous amount of time and skill. The polished finish of Pottinger’s work is silky smooth and resembles marble or glass. Only when peeping inside did I get a sense of its “clayness” as the bases are irregular, rough, almost unfinished, and hint at geological formations where sedimentary layers shift with time to reveal other patterns.
This almost private contrast between the “unfinished” inside of the base and the smooth outside hints at intrigue and mystery, and begs to be explored further.
There is awe and wonder to be had in the appreciation of human skills and achievements and like a complex piece of music or choreography Pulse works as a unified whole whose elements reflect with and respond to each other to tell a story. The research behind the art may be invisible to the public but, by its nature, one knows it to be extensive, complex and scientific. It requires much testing before the artist can set to work using intuition and experience. Pottinger’s pulse is strong and the next show will be eagerly awaited.
Jane Sawyer is a melbourne ceramicist and writer.
Last modified 29-Aug-2005
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