The pot speaks of love and caring. On the base are the marks of the wads on which it was place in the kiln, subsequently ground smooth with skill and
attention. They show the direction of the flame and how the wood ash has combined with the silica in the clay to form a glaze, pooling and highlighting the marks left by the potters hand. Where thin it is more a ghost than a glaze.
— Sebastian Blackie on Sandy Lockwood
My own ceramic work today explores that small but significant word ‘we’ and comes from an early lifetime of wandering, and of connections with people, places and animals
which seem so ‘other’ and yet are intimately connected. I choose to use clay because it is the most primal, pliant and ubiquitous of materials, allowing the imagination freedom to create form, and the mind the challenge of firing and glazing. Color and form are integral.
— Jenny Orchard
From the very beginning, as she precociously developed her flexible, profoundly feminist, erotic approach to form, the central insight of her work has been a
vision of the continuity of all life forms, both as individuals and in their generations. The otherworldly organisms and objects she creates have varied widely in size and shape, displaying a range of subtle glazes and surface features. Some are the height of a person, others would fit in a teacup.
— William Busta on Eva Kwong
I have the point of view that people need beauty to counteract the pace and ferocity of today’s hurly burly life. We are surrounded by constantly ringing phones. Never out of
contact, online updates, texting, rushing, all with our head down looking at the phone, from one place to another. Rarely saying no to a request. The pace of life is exhausting. Let’s give people some contemplative beauty.
— Susie McMeekin
This is a story about an Australian potter. In the story, she is standing on the roof of a museum looking out over a city and its silver harbour. It is night, and she likes the way the darkness can reduce even infinite space to the dimensions of a small jug. She thinks of night as the shadow cast by day. In the story the potter is a thief.
— John Hughes
As I finish writing this I have had news that Lex has died. He started me potting in 1973; I watched over his shoulder while he threw and fired, and then raced home to produce my own bumbling version of his techniques. We have been clay comrades ever since, working, firing and teaching together. The generosity and sharing of information that has always been so common among ceramic folk is something that my friends in the finer arts often comment on
— Peter Lange