Kiki Smith		Robin Johnson

Once Robin and Kiki opened the discussion, the audience was encouraged to join in, and did so with enthusiasm and insight. The discussion was lively and provocative, opening windows of understanding into the nature of ceramic art and the dynamic tension between Asian and Western aesthetic expression and conventions.

(The discussion was not tape recorded, but several participants took copious notes and what follows below is an attempt to recreate the texture and content of a most memorable evening.)

RJ = Robin Johnson
KS = Kiki Smith
GUEST = Gallery guest

RJ: (Holding a ceramic vessel) What is the underlying power of this art? There is something in the quality of this aesthetic that draws us all. What is it that makes art lasting? Some things we buy and they always feed us. They are lasting like a friend. Others are like a quick lover. Initial infatuation, but gradually fading away.

What is it about clay that is different from other art forms? Clay is the most plentiful substance on earth. It is the very stuff we walk on. Like air, it is so ubiquitous, we don't even notice it. Pre-historic man made figures out of it. (Cupping her hands) Earliest man must have used his hands to drink from. The next step was to have a cup in his hands, and from there to the vessel form and then to variants spun off from that, including plates, bottles, bowls. This early connection to sustenance and food seems to me to be fundamental.

There is also a correspondence between the vessel and the figure of the human body. We talk about ceramics in the language of the body: lip, neck, belly, and foot. Clay has a direct appeal.

KS: Unlike other art forms, with ceramics, and especially with vessels, you get to interact with the object, to manipulate it. The owner acts with it in a direct way: own it, use it. In that way it is like jewelry. One doesn't simply stand back and observe and admire as one is likely to do with a painting or sculpture. Ceramic objects must be used. Ceramics are like fetishes.

KS (cont.): (Indicating the objects arranged in the Gallery for reference by the speakers) From my own point of view, I don't understand the decision-making around making these things. It's all about chemistry, as I saw at Alfred University. I visited the ceramics studio at Alfred and was amazed at how scientific and technological the process was. Materials, glazes, temperature and so forth; it's all science. In contemporary painting, a lot of it is about technique. It is interesting to see what is really happening in ceramics. Is it just a process (like a chemical experiment) that just happens. Are the results the inevitable end of a chemical process? What is the artist's intention? And how is that intention manipulated?

RJ: I guess what you are saying is "what is the role of the artist's ideas"? How and from what source(s) does the artist conceive a ceramic object? Then the technique or engineering is what makes it happen.

KS: In simplest terms, I think it is a kind of "collaboration" between the artist and his media.

When I was a child, I was very much attracted to the refined flowers and delicacy of a Beleek vase that we had on the landing of our staircase. Later in life I found I owned fifty more tea cups than I actually needed. I'm attracted to the paste. [Ed. Note: porcelain ceramic bodies are often called "hard paste" or "soft paste".]

RJ: (Holding up to the audience's view a brown-bodied, white glazed vase by the Japanese artist Togo Kobayashi) Following up on your reference to Beleek, a commercially or mass-produced type of ceramics, I need to ask a question: "What is the difference between this object, and the identical form slip cast and produced in multiples?" Why are we drawn to one…

KS: I like them both.

RJ: It seems to me that the connection with the human, the human touch, is very important. We can tell the difference between unique handmade objects and mass-produced examples.

GUEST: Regarding the Kobayashi vase, if we could make 1000 examples just like it, then we would, of course, respond identically to each of them. But the point is, that you can't make even one more, because what you see so immediately is the handmade quality of it, what we would call the artist's touch. There is no mechanical process that can duplicate that and in fact not even Kobayashi can duplicate it himself!

KS: A lot of what interests me about ceramics is that it is amenable to duplication. There is a tension between uniqueness and continuity. Some cultures produced billions of clay Buddhas; and then, there's adobe; and terra cotta decorations on buildings.

There is, it seems to me, a really delicate play between the intention of the artist and the reality of the material. Sometimes you think the artist just got too lucky…and it came out right and they decided to keep it.

(Indicating a Bizen-type vase by Jeff Shapiro with bits of shell remaining from the firing) I love the little shells…it's just too delicious, like a little bit of frosting.

RJ: The kiss of the fire in the kiln. It's a kind of generosity…but it's a manipulated generosity.

(There followed a general discussion with the audience about firing and firing techniques including ash glaze, protecting some parts of the objects from ash deposit by covering with overturned bowls or cups, etc.)

RJ: To paraphrase Descartes: Art is emotion translated into thought, which is translated into form.

GUEST: It's all part of what makes ceramics, especially Japanese ceramics such as those we see here, so exciting. It's part accident, it's part intention, it's part luck, it's part skill. Some of the most famous tea bowls were simple rice bowls that surely were not made to be artistic or aesthetic objects…the particular quality of their beauty was recognized later, by famous tea masters, and then that kind of beauty became a goal for others to aspire to make.

GUEST: It's part accidental, part intentional. An object may look nearly accidental, but we know a good deal of skill went into creating that "accident."

GUEST: The question is, is the appreciation of that quality of beauty learned…or innate, at least for some of us? Growing up in 1950s America I didn't have a chance to see any Japanese ceramics, yet when I walked into Gallery Dai Ichi Arts it was like coming home… coming home to a home I hadn't even known existed. It's an "ah-ha" experience… so this is what I always knew had to exist but was not yet found. It was exciting and profoundly peaceful. The objects were like people to me. The room was full of personalities.

RJ: Yes, that's it. That's really the question isn't it? What is it about clay with aesthetic that makes our response so immediate. To get back to our earlier discussion, why do some things feed us again and again?

GUEST: It's really all about contained air. As humans, to live we must contain air. To live is to breathe…to contain air. Therefore in a sense we are all vessels and we respond to the vessel quality of ceramics, too.

KS: I really like the super fussiness of some of the things. The animal figures, for example. The artist fusses over all the little parts. I can see the artist caring about all the little parts of the figure.

(As the time allotted to the dialogue and discussion was nearly at an end, Gallery Director Beatrice Chang thanked the speakers and the guests for their interesting and insightful comments, remarking that we all clearly could go on for hours more on the topic and she hopes that similar events can be arranged in the future…)