JOY's ART: December 2009

MY CLAY STORY

by JOY KRAUTHAMMER

ISOMATA Alumnus

Joy's Artist Statement

http://www.joys-artist-statement.blogspot.com/

ISOMATA PHOTOS
http://joys-art.blogspot.com/2009/11/isomata.html

Illustrated ARTS story:
http://www.joys-art.blogspot.com/

Because I love clay, in the summers of 1983 and 1984, I spent a couple weeks each as a ceramics student at ISOMATA, Idyllwild School of Music and the Arts, in Idyllwild, CA. My five year old daughter, Aviva, accompanied me.

After driving the strenuous couple-plus hours, winding mountain road to reach the school at the top of the San Jacinto Mountains, I was grateful to arrive and was immediately in love with the natural woods environment. I had the opportunity to learn new techniques with the finest teachers; Salt glazing and (my old favorite) Raku firing with Susan Peterson, of blessed memory; and the next year with Paul Chaleff, I discovered Anagama fired ceramics (in a kiln newly hand built by Fred Olson). The weeks were filled with inspiration and innovation. People told me that I was like a happy kid at camp, always smiling. I felt it.

Amazing and thrilling to me is that after 15 years, I was able to transcend and transform my way of potting. From the beginning days, I could always make perfect structured pots, from a centered place of being, and alter them as I pleased; the forgiving clay pushed past boundaries, and then my hands would return the moist malleable clay to a place of controlled balance. I was never interested in designing on paper what I wanted to create, but let the clay freely express itself being guided by my hands, freedom and intuition. I stretched the clay as I stretched my mind with the impulse to reshape and distort my forms from their original refined bodies.

For Anagama pottery, a Japanese style, I had to convince and allow myself to let go of what I knew, and unlearn in my hands, what I was good at, the process of the contemporary finished-form. I didn't continue geometric, nor slab shapes which I had painted as a canvas. I explored and accepted for myself, a foreign and ancient aesthetic sensibility, "Wabi-Sabi". From a primitive place of a new born, I allowed my clay to rise more loosely 'wheel thrown' in a heavier natural state of organic expression without it being symmetrical, thin and clean. I had to NOT 'fix it' as it unevenly turned and swayed, but let it live in its own imagination. *

Earlier years, I had used found natural materials from New Mexico, imprinting dead saguaro cactus and live tree bark on my clay in hand-building, but this new raw distortion I was creating was on the wheel, where I centered all. I love the wheel and its meditative centered stillness. I added pebbles and grog, making the clay body inconsistent and wobbly with its impurities. After firing, my pots showed off their raw rough beauty, irregularities and protruding pebbles. It is the quality of the raw clay that accepts the wood-fired soft-toned melting ash turning deep burnt burgundies and mustard-hued greens onto its textured body. No glazes are sprayed, dipped nor brushed neatly onto its surface. The result of the revealed firing is pure unexpected magic from natural elements, wood, fire, air, and sea-shells.

At ISOMATA, for the Anagama-style wood firing, members of our muddy group with big axes, split smaller and smaller, the wood from chopped huge trees. As a team, we then stoked the hot in our faces, fiery windy kiln 24/7 for three nights and two days.

Paul Chaleff, my Anagama teacher, said, "It is the richness and quietness that give strength to these pots, ... showing the character of the clay, and not the flair of form."

My pottery is shown, illustrating Chaleff's "Ceramics Monthly" 1985 Anagama article. To this day, my Anagamas are some of my favorite treasured pots, and I am in awe of their unique attributes, and the process we potters endured.

Salt firing was also amazing as I had never experienced it before, nor even seen the rare Salt ware. Again I used no glazes (at times a splash of cobalt stain), and yet the fired pieces became glazed naturally from the addition of salt thrown into the kiln, built outdoors on the mountain terrain.

At other times, I had made pots with intention to portray humor, social, religious ritual and cultural aspects of my personal life, as well as beautiful artistic ceramic serving utensils with definitive purpose and form. Here in the forest, my soul stirred with the beauty of nature and desire to create flowing vessels filled with spirit.

Something that impressed me most at ISOMATA, was seeing in the next room, the American Indians potters led by renowned Lucy Lewis and daughters, honoring the earth, and personally connecting with the clay. They would make a perfect 'hand-coiled' pot from a little plum-sized mound of valuable clay they had dug up on their New Mexico reservation and brought with them-- unlike the 25 pound round metal containers of processed refined clay that I would purchase, and nonchalantly use, even a full can at one time, when creating 'production-ware' or sitting stools. The Indians allowed my daughter and I to fire our hand-made clay ocarinas in their out-doors, aromatic cow-dung pit-firing. My daughter's little hollow round, sweetly tuned instrument fit her hands perfectly.

When I potted, especially outside, I loved hearing music waft through the mountain trees. From the ISOMATA music students and teachers, there were performances offered every night. I remember hearing one evening, playing by a fine violinist and cellist, Endre Balogh. Recently, we both played at a Los Angeles synagogue. I was the percussionist, and in awe that I could hear Endre again, twenty-six years later and only inches away. (As a child I had played violin.)

My young daughter, Aviva, played at the on-site children's day camp, meeting me for meals, and slept nights in my cabin. One day, at meal time on the outdoor patio, we shared our food with a visiting craftsman. I was thrilled that Aviva met the man who crafted Endre's musical instruments. Aviva, not yet six years old, would crawl under the wooden slated raised patio and find loose change. She always wandered off to talk to the adults at the other wooden tables. Today, and always while growing up, Aviva was able to speak to strangers since that meal time experience at Idyllwild. Several years later, Aviva was able to assist me in the ceramics classes that I was teaching for the City of LA at the Arts School that I created for children.

My earliest ceramics history began 1968 at Queens College (QC) where I joyously discovered clay and the spiritual gift given to me. (Beshert / meant to be that I couldn't get the academic class I needed.) One of my closest LA friends today, Suzanne Roth, I met in that first NY ceramics class, over forty years ago. I am grateful to both my ceramics teachers.

James Crumrine, obm (1925-1993) (also from Greenwich House Pottery), was the first potter I had even seen, and I saw love and magic coming through his fingers in my QC class. Immediately, I was hooked with my heart and hands to clay. My hands caressed the clay, and pieces easily emerged as I guided the moist earth. Mr. Crumrine took us students to the Metropolitan Museum of Art where we toured through the gallery of Greek vases. In class, I would try to replicate in clay, the classics.

My other QC ceramics teacher, Jolyon Hofsted, obm (1942-2004), was director of the Brooklyn Museum School of Art. The next year I accepted the full-time Max Beckmann scholarship for graduate ceramics work at the Brooklyn Museum School of Art, and learned from many amazing professional potters. I still see their art in museums. Joly brought in master potters for us to learn from, and we took field trips to studios, such as Toshiko Takaezu in N. J. There was the master who taught us production pottery. I liked using the 25 pound, round metal tins red Brooklyn clay. The pots I have from that era are small salt and pepper shakers with clay worms living on them, even in their swimming pool. The class furniture I made was too large to transport.

I recall the funniest pieces that teacher, Joly, would create. He made wine goblets without a stem so that you could not put them down at a party, and lose them in a sea of other's goblets. At a Brooklyn Museum show, he had light bulbs that that could light up ceramic 'body' parts, placed on the floor. Thank you, Joly, for giving me an opportunity that otherwise I would not have had.

While making stained glass art (and weaving) at the Museum, I figured out how to combine my stained glass designs with my strange clay creations, and with this innovation exhibited and won awards for them. I sold my art at flea markets. I taught ceramics to adults at the Cooper Square Art School in Manhattan's East Side; clay and crafts to kids at camps and Jewish Centers; and taught ceramics at a mental hospital, while as a Columbia University, Occupational Therapist trainee (which I regret that I didn't pursue).

Because my European future in-laws had no respect for a "khippie artist", I detoured from my pottery passion for a few years and became a NY medical social worker, and moved to California to be married. I continued my pottery and my weaving (and sewing) in the land where from afar, I had soulfully admired California potters.

Along with other ceramicists, I used the college studios at Long Beach, CSUN, Pierce, and Glendale, being inspired by sensational professional potters. I continued to exhibit my art in shows. I joined the American Ceramics Society (ACS) and loved being a member; still friends with artists whom I had first met at Idyllwild in 1983. A favorite outing was traveling with Patrick Crabb and 63 potters to New Mexico to visit Indians on their sacred lands, and another trip--doing a simple beach pit firing. Every year ACS went to Japan to explore the ancient art, and it was Pesach holiday with family, so I could not go.

Around the time of ISOMATA, I became ARTS editor of the LA Jewish Calendar Magazine, writing for the next decade a monthly column, "Chai Lights".

I created and directed ARTS programs in the San Fernando Valley in the 1980's and served on Boards of Directors: San Fernando Arts Council, etc. I produced concerts, performances and theatre, and directed a consortium of adult community educational programs. I opened a community art gallery. After my MBA (because my husband, z"l, was ill), I turned down a job running the University of Judaism's Platt Gallery, offered to me by Rabbi Max Vorspan, z"l.

Aviva
ISOMATA 1983
© Joy Krauthammer

Wherever my daughter was a student, I would offer occasional clay workshops to the children.

Heschel Day School

A couple years after ISOMATA in 1986, I began MBA school, a non-profit program. My University of Judaism MBA (now AJU) 316 page hard-bound thesis was on "STRATEGIC PLAN - To Preserve and Energize the ARTS In Los Angeles Into the
21st Century." (I had specialized in Long Term Care administration.)

Luckily, I was able to get to my thesis because the Northridge earthquake struck my town, and my thesis was in the computer a long time before I could get it out. I lost much of my ceramics; they shattered.

I'm proud to say that I was told by the school's beloved president, Rabbi Max Vorspan, that my thesis was one of the University's top best three theses in its history. (Even though they tried to delete my chapter on SPIRITUALITY and the work place, and the ARTS was not what we studied.) It was not long before all three of my hard-bound copies I'd given to the University were missing.

At the beginning of my MBA student days, I had a vision to open an ARTS school for the City of LA because there were none in the San Fernando Valley, thus children were neglected. I made a proposal to LA's City Hall and they said to me, "Find a location." I did, and the ARTS school opened. They needed a ceramics teacher and I WAS IT with waiting lines of children to take classes. I was thrilled to give the opportunity to the kids; My dream fulfilled. I taught clay techniques, demonstrated projects, and 'let' the kids create whatever they wanted as I had done in the mid-sixties, teaching art/crafts at NY Jewish community centers while a teenager. (It's in my genes.)

At the same time, that I began my MBA work, I decided that my pottery took up so much space and I had none left for new creations. I thought being a musician would be more ethereal, with NO space needed, so I became a DRUMMER. Oy vey, now I have a large drum collection for my performing. (My clarinet, violin and piano had not been touched in years.) Why couldn't I have become a flutist?

I started learning drum kit the day I began my MBA classes because I knew I needed to use both sides (right and left) of my brain. (Along with a pile of text books, I also began black and white darkroom classes the same week.)

For the last two decades I have served as a performing percussionist and Sound Healer for many spiritual gatherings.
http://www.timbrelsofjoy.blogspot.com/
http://www.joys-music.blogspot.com/
http://www.healingsoundsofjoy.blogspot.com/
and Kindredspirits and OpenToWonder sites.

I am an artist, an educator offering kabbalistic workshops, a publisher, poet, PR consultant, photographer, spiritual guide, etc. I am a Gemini.

My husband, z'l, of blessed memory, was first afflicted with challenging metastatic brain cancer in 1988, around that time of the LA Arts school, and for the next 18 years, as the tumors progressed, I served as his Caregiver Angel Warrior, until four years ago. During that time, I continued to perform, accompanying other musicians, but did not create pots that my soul so deeply loved, because of the attention needed for the continual clay process.

Lately I've been creating and writing and adding art to my 30 so far in 2010 (now 70 in 2012) personal websites (found on blogspot.com under MY PROFILE). So, I guess now I am a poet, story-teller and illustrator.

Please see my IDYLLWILD PHOTOS with poem "TODAY I AM A POT" in http://www.sephirathaomer.blogspot.com/ .
More poems and photos.

More photos and stories of my pots and weavings are in:
http://www.joys-art.blogspot.com/
www.joys-photos.blogspot.com

more photos:

http://joys-fun-fotos.blogspot.com//

http://visions-of-joy.blogspot.com/

http://joys-inthemorning.blogspot.com/

Please view my posts of my art journey in Joy's Artist Statement.
http://www.joys-artist-statement.blogspot.com/
http://joys-art.blogspot.com/2009/12/joys-artist-statement.html
http://joys-favorite-fotos.blogspot.com/2012/04/photography-art-bio.html

You can see my monthly Calendar of spiritual events, JOYous CHAI LIGHTS at
http://joyous-chai-lights-feb2012.blogspot.com/

or at my "Dashboard", see current site. I've written and published "Chai Lights" and "Kid Kulture" filled with the ARTS in various venues for the last three decades, since 1980, and it's now in the Internet. Click Dashboard, and more stories are found.

Yesterday I went to LACMA, LA's art museum, and felt my heart melt (just as did my glazes melt into the clay bodies), as I gazed upon the Japanese ceramics on exhibit. I am a potter at heart. When I die (at 120), I'll return to the earth, from where came, my clay.

This is part of MY STORY as CLAY artist and ISOMATA alumnus, written for Idyllwild Arts School at their request. I hope "My Clay Story" is helpful for Idyllwild's Brain Trust Alumnus archives. At least this 'paper' on the art form that I love, won't go missing from the school's shelves.

I think this is how I must have been in college, mesmerized, when seeing my teacher's and my own first pot being created.

BlesSings for peace/shalom, harmony, creativity, expansion, wholeness, health and joy,
Joy Krauthammer
"Serve G*d With Joy"
2010

Joy teaching ceramics to Aviva's Kindergarten class, A.J. Heschel Day School

PS
I find it interesting that my hands have served me (and the Holy One) best in clay, drumming (hands on heads), sound healing (hands on wands connecting with crystal and Tibetan singing bowls), gardening (with my hands in the earth), pressing a camera shutter button (hands sharing my photos), and with compassion, touching hands of others. And my fingers are incessantly on the computer keys, communicating love and blesSings, creating my more than 70 web sites filled especially with my writings and art. I am grateful.

PHOTOS:
Raku vessel, ISOMATA
Joy Krauthammer teaching clay 'pinch pots'.
Joy demonstrating Indian ceramics styles (pots created by Joy) to intensely fascinated pre-schoolers © Daily News.

PS
May 16, 2011.
It was good today, reconnecting by phone to former Queens College (QC) clay class mate, Michael Boyer, who went on to become for 26 years, the QC ceramics teacher. Mr. James Crumrine had guided both of us with his gentle soul, in opening the heart, eyes and hands of students. May his soul be blessed.

Ceramic slab

LA Jewish Federation Art Exhibit

* Post Script

52Frames

Being a member of 52Frames, an on-line photo group based in Israel, I have responsibilities to participate in the weekly challenge theme and critique others' art.

In my 104th straight week, Aug. 22, 2015, our theme is Wabi-Sabi.

For theme, I titled my photo that I newly shot of one of my Anagama pots:

"Beauty in imperfection, humility, harmony and balance."

In my Japanese Anagama style pottery making years, I immersed myself in Wabi-Sabi. In 1970 I studied with Japanese potter Toshiko Takaezu, obm. A decade later I created with Anagama and also Raku firings. I was being reborn to unlearn, and learn new ceramics. Unglazed greenware pots pick up patinas and glaze from woodash and rice hulls during 3 days in the hand-stoked Anagama/Bizen kiln.

"Characteristics of the Wabi-Sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, asperity (roughness or irregularity), simplicity, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and integrity of natural objects and processes." - Wiki

More: http://joys-favorite-fotos.blogspot.com/2015/01/submissions-to-52-frames-2015.html

Photos, Self-Portraits of Artist:

http://joys-favorite-fotos.blogspot.com/2012/04/submissions-to-52-frames-2014.html

"Photographers" contaminating the Internet with selfies

can learn a thing or two from Man Ray and Frida Kahlo". - Salon.com

Photo: Writings on my wall are affirmations that helped me survive during years

I was a Caregiver Angel Warrior.

These are also my Self-Portrait.

(An artist friend, Moriyah, z'l / obm, had affirmations on her wall while she was burdened with cancer,

and learning from her, I felt I had permission to spiritually support myself this way.)

~ ~ ~

The ONLY other time I'd held out a camera for a 'selfie' was with a friend and her new mezuzah on door post,
and my NEW expensive camera landed on her marble floor.

SELF PORTRAIT

an artist of joy

My self-portraits are of me, Joy, in joy, appreciating the environment filled with form, color, companions, art, nature, inspiration, man's genius, music, more. My senses are alert, my spirit and energy activated.

Lingering for many moments many times in same experiences, notably at my favorite museum LACMA, and capturing the moment, one of many moments, portrays part of my identity; An artist and appreciator, in an art space.

For last few decades I drive into LA to LACMA flashing my membership card and enjoy the same contemporary installations over and over again. I can still feel one outdoor mural installation (no longer alive) where I stood within the scene.

I'm grateful to enjoy LACMA with my sister, an art historian.

~ ~ ~

Challenge for 52Frames Self Portrait Week 1 2016

Next 5: Essence of Joy

I recorded these scenes as I naturally discovered them.

I smile as I play behind white feathers strung at a trendy store in The Grove

that tourists wanted to visit this holiday season.

My essence is spiritual, joyous. creative, sentimental, and connected in kindness, love and truth.

My essence includes loving a good challenge, fun or serious. My essence pursues justice (Tzedek, Tzedek, Tirdof) and that includes being aware of Loshan Hara/wrongful slanderous speech.
My spiritual soul loves wearing garments of purple.
The tiny bird in composite, shot this week at the grave of my husband, z"l, on his 10th yahrzeit,
was pointed out to me by my granddaughter.
(I always loved the elegant doves in Spanish artist Alvar's paintings. His art celebrates the joy of life.)

I always enjoy finding feathers (a long full white swan feather in local Lake Balboa), but I feel pain if feathers are from victims of violence.

I attach purple feathers to my kipot/head coverings.

I think of feathers and I think of the only possession my beloved Grandma Ethel, z”l, brought with her to America from Russia on long ship rides over 100 years ago– her feather pillow that she gave to me. There is a feather pillow destroyed in Fiddler on the Roof. Grandma taught me to be careful with words. "If a feather pillow is busted, one can’t retrieve the feathers blown away, just as one can not retrieve ill spoken words. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all", said Grandma Ethel. She died in Atlanta, Georgia in 1988, age 88. I hold her in my heart. Grandma Ethel said that the Klu Klux Klan threatened to “tar and feather” her because of her kindness to the black folk, including Rev. Martin Luther King, obm.

I smile as I see a mirror on a vanity table that reminds me of my hinged, 3 sided heavy mirror that had belonged to my mother, z”l, on the other coast since 1950ish.

What parts of her do I clearly see in myself? As a photographer, I discovered some.

Fun to see and connect with a piece of furniture reminding me of my multi-talented artist mother, who died at age 49, 1969.