Kevin Snipes at Clay Mix - Part II

Kevin uses a porcelain clay (mostly one he makes) however, when he does use a commercial clay he chooses a cone 5/6 groggy porcelain body.  He is a hand builder the process he uses to construct his form is pretty basic.  I mean that he cuts the shape, uses a dowel to help get the slabs in position to be able to put them together - he bevels the edges, scores, slips and then reinforces the joints on the inside.

That's where it starts.  He did talk about how he spends a long time building the pieces and ensuring the integrity of the piece because he does spend so much time drawing/illustrating, he doesn't want to have seams splitting or cracking.  So, diligence is the word on that.

In a workshop setting it's hard to actually build like you would in studio because there simply isn't the luxury of time.  So, you can imagine the process of Kevin trying to show, with porcelain, the sped up version.  The truth is he couldn't.  But, he could talk about it.  He spends a lot of time on the details of building the piece and he spends even more time cleaning up the piece.

So the first half of the day was spent with a lot of conversation and watching him get his basic shape built in order to work on the illustrating/drawing part after the lunch break*

There was a lot of discussion about whether the drawing he may be thinking about in his head (which may not be fully realised) dictates the piece as he builds or visa-versa.  I think part of the answer is it's so much like a left brain/right brain commentary.  One simply cannot function at it's best without the other, but at different parts of the process one is in the forefront and then the other - of course, artists understand this relationship.  I think if you illustrate or decorate your work and have a fairly involved process in that regard - this is something that will make perfect sense.  However, it's not that easy to put to words.  He said that he often will simply focus on the construction and not spend much time on the story until the piece is ready for decorating.  It's often then that he will reproach the piece with the idea in mind of finding the story in the piece.  Michelangelo-esque; find the sculpture in the block of stone, find the idea in the shape and form.

Kevin did talk about how he uses Speedball Underglazes.  He uses Amaco underglaze, but likes and uses Speedball.  For the purposes of the workshop, he used Amaco.  He draws with a pencil an outline and get's the basic idea and lines correct of the figures and then he carves them.  He uses the basic mishima technique.  The decorating process happens at late leather hard.  He will paint on the colour , then draw some more illustration in the background to the figure and paint in another colour and so on.  He then uses a metal rib to scrape it off.  He told us that the drawing piece is lengthy.  It can take him sometimes 4 weeks to finish a drawing on the piece.  His approach is a very organic one and he does not force the narrative but allows himself the time for the story to fully emerge.

A word about his glaze.  I asked him specifically about his surface.  It's a glaze he has developed over a long period working hard to perfect.  It's his thing, and it's truly a beautiful surface.  He did tell us that it's super touchy and even a 10 degree difference or environment change can alter the results.

I'd say that Kevin has an architect's approach.  Attention to detail, clean, precise and then there's the story telling.  He is a master at it.   *We had to leave a bit early, so we missed some of the discussion about his surface technique.

I think the thing that is hard for me to convey is the experience of listening to him talk throughout the day, it makes a lot of his work, process, etc much more clear, it allowed a certain amount of reading between the lines.  As a hand builder, it was easier for me to relate to a lot of his thoughts and approach from that perspective.  In only spending some hours with him, we just got to skim the surface of his depth of narrative.  I think that's a long conversation. . .


It was really interesting for me as a hand builder.
Of course, I am doing little justice to Kevin, his work or his discussion.  It was a great opportunity.

Have I talked about Thaddeus Erdahl?

Thaddeus Erdahl

He has a post about this piece - it's going to NCECA.  Go check out his blog.  Prepare to be amazed. 

new head

Third in a series.  This is sculpture 412 from Imaco - great clay body.  All underglazes, low fired.  I used the matte glaze and clear gloss glaze on the eyes.  I didn't cut the matte in half with water which I normally do and got some pooling - waxy looking, but on this piece not too bad.  The face however does  give off a bit too much sheen....

The coldest summer is the summer I spent in San Francisco...

I've been off the grid.  I spent 10 days in Gualala, CA and stayed with my boyfriend at his family home.  I had never been to Gualala until recently and this trip was my second.  The real gift, and there were many. was that there is no signal.  ZERO reception.  No iphone.  No computer.  No blog.  NO Facebook!  It's so exacting that when you cross into "no signal country" you now have no choice but to cross into "no signal country".   In our world, it's a lot like crossing "to the other side".  It can be a very scary thing.  There is little or no thought at all to even trying to find a signal.  I was a little bummed at myself that I was back "on" almost as soon as I had access - but I did value the time off and it did illustrate how much time and energy is devoted online.  I really got how much more space it opens up when you're not on, or distracted by, what you think you might be missing.   

The Mendocino Coast is breathtaking, Gualala is no exception.   It's beautiful up there.  It was hot, we ate, we worked hard, we played hard, and slept like the dead!  I can't wait to go back!

The property is 10+ acres of trees, meadows, gardens, old cabins and sheds.  It's beautiful.  There is a little trail to walk through the forrest on the property, all of it feels like being home.  The peace and quiet - it reminds me so much of hot summers at our family home in Glen Ellen when I was a kid.  The Gualala river is near by, not to mention an ocean, and the water is glassy crystal clear.  See where I'm going with this...so super easy to blow off your stupid signal.

on the clay front: 

I've applied to a show in November and we'll see if I've made it; tough competition this year.  If it's a go, it's time to ramp up production.  I've made some vases and cups in an effort to get my ass in gear and back in some kind of making groove...even the boyfriend recently got in on the act.  I have to say that it's an interesting thing to spend time in your studio with your significant other.  I enjoy his company in the evening studio time together.   I often need to work alone to concentrate.  There are some points in process when I still do need to just do my shit.  When someone in my studio with me, I notice I have a tendency to slightly downplay whatever I'm working on - I have no idea why -  I have to work harder to concentrate on what I'm doing which means I get very quiet.   But, I do like the juxtaposition.   He's a creative and talented builder in his own right;  I learn a lot from experiencing his approach and process.  Really, I'm just super stoked he get's it!  love and art are pretty fucking good together.

here's the boyfriend cup!  awesome, I think.   it's been glazed and going in the kiln tonight.....stay tuned.

Bronwyn Oliver

Bronwyn Oliver had that rarest of all skills: she knew how to create beauty.

It might seem facile to read her life, and her death, into the works, but she was so much like her work: simple yet complicated, fragile yet strong, eccentric though oddly straightfoward. She was a deeply awkward person, but it was this awkwardness that lent her works their peculiar grace, that made them interesting. The shadows cast by the object were an integral part of the artwork, and sometimes the shadow would be more powerful than the object, become the work itself. One wonders if her extraordinary industriousness was a way of warding off the shadows that finally engulfed her.

An extremely guarded person, she gave an unusually candid interview a few months before her death, revealing insights into a painful childhood and complex feelings about parenthood. She had no children, and several of her works referred to barrenness in some way – the suggestion of a shrivelled pod inside the lacy carapace of the larger shape, for example. She loved her years of teaching art to small children at Cranbrook – a career she could afford to retire from a couple of years ago – and one wonders whether the responsibilities and human contact of this job helped to keep her aloft. Although she had an angular sort of personality and could be brusque at times, she had a touching nature, and a surprising, almost old-fashioned unworldliness. At the same time the covert aggression and defensiveness of some of the works hinted at an inner darkness: as she said, ‘I haven’t made an innocent work in a long time.’

Bronwyn was modest yet utterly sure of her vision, secure in the confidence of her originality. Her art was fully resolved – perfect, really – and she stands alone in the annals of Australian art history. There was no-one like her: she invented her own deeply intelligent form, and entered fully into the world that it opened out to her.

Her most successful works were like a flourish, a single expressive gesture. The idea of the work was always perfectly worked out which gave the finished object a wholeness, an authority and sense of inevitability, as though it had always existed. There was an astonishing clarity in the entire thinking behind her work. Her titles, apt and always sophisticated, were an integral part of the work, a clue into the meanings of her unique conceptual language. The objects were painstakingly produced, and sometimes – but only if the work was not entirely successful – slightly tortuous. Of course we will read her work this way now – for the moment the shadows will dominate the art, and will change the way we read it forever – but nothing can alter the resilience of the works themselves, their eternal elegance, intelligence and beauty.

Hannah Fink




all pics courtesy of Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery



I'm still trying to recover from the story of Bronwyn Oliver.  The painful parallels.  Her work is beautiful, intelligent....and silent.  Silent like the hours and hours she spent alone - the existence she had in the world that created them.  moving.