The opportunity of working with some women potters on the
edge of Delhi, India
was very appealing. After negotiating with Sterre, patron
of Kalakar Trust, a Trust that works with various ‘art’
groups, I was approved. She had to consider the value of
my contribution against the provision of a translator/driver
(the maverick Josephine). Josephine works as a social worker
for the Trust and it would mean that on the four days a
week she would be with me her regular clients would go without.
I planned to go for five weeks, even though Sterre said
it would be difficult to get anything done in such a short
time but that was the time I was willing to contribute.
The ‘brief’ was to work with some women from
a pottery community to develop ideas that may help them
increase their incomes.
I could relate my time in Delhi
through many different stories. Stories of being with Josephine—‘the
worst driver’ in that city —on her social working
rounds when not at the potter’s colony; stories of
her great acts of compassion and pragmatic way of dealing
with her clients; her stories of her friend’s husband’s
infidelities, her fearless interaction with police, car
repossessors and ‘ head of departments’. It
would be more appropriate for me to discuss the project
with the women potters. Let me reflect on the differences
between the two pottery communities I became familiar with
and speculate on their future directions.
First, a brief historical overview of the position of the
potter in Indian culture. The vast majority of potters are
Hindu. They believe they have descended from the one craftsman.
God created this potter, Prajapati, Lord of Creativity,
potters in some regions still carry his name. Techniques
and tools being passed from him and from generation to generation.
Potters belong to a distinct class, caste called kumbhara
(or variations of the same). This position dictated many
aspects of life including the hereditary nature of the profession.
Sandra Bowkett in the corner
where we conducted the workshop with the electric wheel
head the only flat surface to work on
The potters I met were Rajasthani (most people in Delhi
relate to some other region even if they were born in Delhi).
The ‘elders’ had moved to Delhi
up to 30 years previously. They settled re-establishing
pottery communities on the outskirts and continued to produce
their wares. I was working in a colony called Hastal Village
and we often visited two ‘studio potters’ Harkrishan
and Guri Raj Prasad in nearby Prajapat colony. While Josephine
had extended conversations/negotiations with these two potters,
once for three hours, I had plenty of time to observe workshop
activity. Both these groups produce similar wares, low fired
unglazed terracotta like objects. They use the same clays,
building techniques and similar kilns and firing methods
(simple updraught kilns fired with wood shavings). However,
their pottery is of very different quality. The Hastal potters
make vast quantities of very inexpensive pots while the
other two have a more limited production of well-crafted
pieces.
At Hastal Village
pottery is generally produced by a family unit in their
‘home’ compound. I spent time in the home compound
of Manoharlal and Kallo Devi. It seemed to me they represented
the traditional family working in a traditional way. Their
eldest son Jugdish and two daughters did most of the clay
preparation although Manoharlal was there as well. At Hastal
the clay arrives by the truckload. The large dry clods are
crushed and sometimes sieved; it was then soaked and roughly
wedged before being carried to the throwing area. The following
day Jugdish wedged each flower pot amount of clay for Manoharlal
to throw. Where I worked we had access to a three speed
electric wheel and many of the potters in the village used
similar ones. For me it was exciting to first see an example
of the ‘traditional’ concrete wheel leaning
against a wall. On further exploring the village I found
many potters using this style of wheel; it has the advantage
of still being functional when the power goes off, which
invariably it did at some time each day. I studied ceramics
in the seventies and learnt to throw on an electric wheel.
Although I was given a kick wheel, I never mastered this
technique. I watched Manoharlal place his large (diameter
approx. 60cm) concrete disc on its timber pivot set in the
ground, ‘wind it up’, and from this action centre
about five kilogramms of clay effortlessly. As the momentum
is resisted and the wheel slows, he completes the pot with
grace and economy. He then cuts the pot from the wheel and
places it in the ‘yard’ where the rest of the
days production will go to dry. For me the simplicity of
the process was beautiful.
Disposable ice-cream cups
and the pit kiln being built around them
Some aspects of Indian culture are changing and one of
these is the possibility of moving from your hereditary
profession. For many of the potters at Hastal this is the
choice for their sons. To move to menial jobs such as rickshaw
driving and labouring is possible, anything else demands
an ‘education’ and then the motivation to succeed
in a very competitive job market. The mobile handsome young
men I was in contact with had dreams of being motor mechanics
and accountants. The young un-married women? The one involved
in the workshop is now married. The parents continue making
pottery with the help of daughters and daughter-in- laws
but in this community who will be the next generation of
throwers?
According to Huyler, it is taboo for women to even touch
the pottery wheel. When I questioned some of the women at
Hastal about this they said they did not use the wheel because
it was heavy work. Certainly using the manual wheel would
be very heavy work, but the work they do in preparing the
clay would be equally so. With a greater use of the electric
wheels (for those families that could afford one), women
may begin to do some of the throwing.
At Hastal the production is market driven. Orders are received
from wholesalers. Each potter seems to specialize in a particular
object. Manoharlal made large flowerpots, others moneyboxes.
One potter close to where I worked made disposable ice cream
cups. Pottery chai cups were once found all over India,
polystyrene and plastic are now used. The same discarded
is not nearly as appealing as the pile of organic broken
ceramic cups near a vendor’s site. Generally over
time demand for items traditionally made has decreased.
In contrast to the Hastal potters, the two potters at Prajapat
colony had workshops full of a variety of objects; although
they still often worked to order, they also made work for
‘craft shows’ all over India. While I was there
Harkrishan’s workshop was preparing for a show in
Calcutta and
a craft mela (big) on the outskirts of Delhi.
He had some beautiful large pieces as well as some ware
that was post-firing painted, stools and Ganesh painted
green and then aged gold and black. This look is popular
in some Indian circles.
Guri Raj also had work going to Calcutta.
He was preparing work for Dilli Haart as well. Dilli Haart
is a simulated market like venue established by the Ministry
of Textiles. Craftspeople can go there for two week periods.
You pay to go in and it is considered by some as an expensive
place to buy goods. Occasionally they have themed displays.
The last week I was there Gujarat
was featured and many stalls presented work and information
on reconstruction after the earthquakes last year. Stalls
on conservation, re-cycling, organic farming (the norm until
recently), the Craft Revival Trust and Dastkar, a society
for Crafts and Craftspeople also had stalls. These stalls
reflected a culture where some people have the choice to
pursue these values.
The last afternoon I had in India
I spent sitting at Guri Raj’s stall at Dilli Haart
watching the more wealthy Delhites and Indian tourists strolling
and buying. Guri Raj sold many of his beautiful large pieces.
He did have a few post-firing painted lamp bases there but
the ‘natural look’ with this clientele was the
preferred aesthetic.
I didn’t get to pursue the question of how it was
that although these two groups of potters who originally
coming from Rajasthani villages since being in Delhi
had moved in different directions. Was it the individual
skills and sensibilities of Guri Raj and Harkrishan that
enable them to move into an expanding lucrative market provided
by the much talked about ‘middle class’? Was
it their long family tradition to be making a finer quality
product than the pottery that emanated from Hastal
Village? Hopefully
I will be able to ask these questions and more when Guri
Raj and Manoharlal come to Australia
next year.
Sandra
Bowkett is a Melbourne-based potter
Last modified
07-May-2003
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