Roger Korn on wed 11 nov 98
liz, i'm reading an article even now about what is termed men's mid-life
crisis, so yeah, i wonder too about the changes they see in their work
and how they think about it.
i didn't think there'd be this much interest, but, men? feel free to
respond. your hormone levels change too, just not as obviously! let's
see if it's a wise woman thing or an age thing.
looking forward to seeing the posts!
joanna
--
joanna deFelice
prepress@cyberis.net
Joanna,
You are on to something interesting here. In my late 50s, I returned to
doing pots about 3 years ago, after "being away" for about 25 years. What's
happened for me is that I am reasserting the technical areas (kilns,
chemistry, creative scrounging) that were and are very comfortable to me,
but reexamining the aesthetic premises of my work.
In 1959, when I started making pots, the Korean->Japanese->English
tradition as exemplified by Leach and Hamada drove my dreams, thoughts, and
work. Now, I find myself with a healthy respect for this tradition that has
provided a foundation for all of us today, in one way or another. But I
have become curious about American pottery - that work whose tradition
predates European contact and continues into the present, not just in the
work of Native Americans but also in the work of others who have been
touched by this substantial body of work. Michael Cardew's remark that
"America has no tradition" arouses me to refute him - probably what he
intended by making the remark. Working as a laborer on Anasazi digs
(1050-1315), I found a vocabulary of representation of the real world and
the spiritual world, with no clear delineating line between them.
This American tradition has become a major part of my dreaming and potting,
but transformed by my own experience. I am not a handbuilder, but I create
some forms derived from the Pueblo and Zuni tradition, throwing parts on
the wheel and combining them. Other forms emerge from "I don't know where",
something in one of my past lives, or dredged up out of the collective
unconcious shared by all. A sweet mystery, I find myself using techniques
from other times and places, things I didn't know I knew, only to have
someone direct my attention to something new to me and say, "See, that's
where it came from." And exploring the new thing, I find more, related,
objects and tools.
"What a long strange trip it's been." - and still IS.
Roger
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