| From the Pages of Ceramics Monthly
L-stand and N-stand.
Installation view of Social piece of furniture #7, Interior #10, Interior #11, Interior #9 and Untitled #9 (from the functional series).
Cooler and Social piece of furniture #7.
Untitled #9 (from the functional series).
Mirror (Ornamented) and Mirror (Candle).
Candle/Light and
Interior #8.
| by Sean Francis
Visitors to the recent exhibition of Anders Ruhwald’s ceramics-based art at rowlandcontemporary (www.rowlandcontemporary.com) in Chicago, Illinois, were immediately confronted by an object that in its unstable combination of drollery and menace is typical of this young Danish maker’s fascinating output: a circle of earthenware three feet in diameter, glazed in a matt black and surrounding a vinyl mirror, mounted high on a white wall and staring mutely down at all who were sufficiently intrepid to keep on coming into the gallery. Though not quite as unsettling as the “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” posted at the threshold of Dante’s Inferno, the piece did suggest it would be best to check any preconceptions about a ceramics show at the door. Half surveillance device, half funhouse fixture and wholly compelling, Interior #10 kept its perceivers off-balance, some more pleasurably than others; only when they had realized the title might refer more to their hidden psychic spaces than to the uncanny object it named were they truly ready to proceed further.
That the London-based Ruhwald might have been as interested in discomfiting as in delighting was suggested by the rubric he settled on for this grouping of thirteen creations, all made since Christmas in Chicago, where he has been a 2007/8 Visiting Artist at the Art Institute of Chicago: One is never so close to change as when life seems unbearable, even in the smallest and most everyday things. Taken from a letter by the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, whose most famous poem, “Archaic Torso of Apollo,” ends with the exhortation “You must change your life,” the statement is more suggestive than definitive—and hence appealed forcefully to Ruhwald, who regards ambiguity as the key to all he does. “I don’t want people to dwell on what this work looks like,” he notes; “I want them to ask what it is.” (Not that they’ll find any certain answer.) To this end he eschewed the often bright colors, shiny surfaces and witty titles of previous work in favor of an all-over blackness, occasional bluntness of modeling and neutrality of naming; the sculptures do not reach out, but must be approached and engaged on their own terms by those who would comprehend their quiet but persistent power. (The one exception to this was the dazzling stoneware vessel Cooler, which seemed hewn from obsidian—and true to its name brimmed on opening night with the iced intoxicants that evinced the largesse of gallery director Mark Rowland.)
The anomaly of Cooler’s ravishing aesthetics and unambiguous usefulness within this show’s context also indicated Ruhwald’s decision to address, albeit obliquely, the problem so often raised with ceramics in relation to the discourse of high art: the vexed question of whether form must be divorced from recognizable functionality in order to count as significant. As he sees it, by making ceramics that “verge on the functional—but always stop just short, or move just beyond,” he is engaging in a “conceptualization of the utilitarian” that lends his projects a resonance beyond their individual components. And while almost every object here could conceivably serve some purpose beyond that of providing sensory pleasure and provoking musings on meaning—the hilarious N-stand, for instance, which might do nicely to prop up a television in the family room of the Flintstones, or the small Untitled #9 (from the functional series), upon whose skinny and bumpy earthenware bar one might drape a hand towel or two—Ruhwald is more keen on stimulating thought around the notion of utility than in fashioning explicitly serviceable products. (It was revealing to learn from him that an early apprenticeship in Minnesota was entirely given over to the throwing of commercial pottery, and that he hadn’t operated an enterprise in Denmark strictly devoted to functional ceramics for very long at all before realizing it wasn’t, so to speak, his cup of tea.)
For a number of this show’s pieces, the ceramic medium or material provided only one part of a larger assemblage. Particularly intriguing was a work that featured two devices of illumination. In Candle/Light a candle burned atop yet another earthenware beam, and, on its other end, a sleek light bulb drooped downward as if to keep its “eye” on the coil of black cord plugged into the wall and keeping it going. The contrast in the modes of lighting—one as old as man, the other a readymade emblem of modernity—added a two-fold temporal dimension to the piece’s spatiality: while the wick and wax were visibly finite and clearly diminishing, the filament under glass, while destined to endure longer, was also under the curse of obsolescence.
Candle/Light’s simple allusion to the charged philosophical category of time was echoed in another of the exhibit’s engaging aspects: the way different pieces subtly evoked widely divergent historical epochs. Some suggested the era of Neanderthal man, others the Northern Renaissance of Jan van Eyck (whose seminal Arnolfini Betrothal was evoked by a set of exquisite mirror objects “conversing” in a corner); meanwhile, the gawky mushroom-on-a-tripod L-stand irresistibly channeled the B-movie pod-people of the 1950s. (The spindly legs of this piece are also dead ringers for the knobby and attenuated limbs of Alberto Giacometti’s pinched, striding bronzes.) In addition, Ruhwald had prepared a time frame of sorts for the show as a whole, constructing two very large mirrors of small, brassy tiles in mosaic meant to bathe the space in golden light while referencing the idea of the “total art work” which so obsessed early modernists in Vienna like Josef Hoffman. (Think of the pattern and hue of Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss and Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I.)
This effort to incorporate installation is part and parcel of Anders Ruhwald’s conceptual bent, patent throughout this profound show, and demonstrated his eagerness to grow by exploring new ways of contextualizing his remarkable artifacts. However, it is ultimately his thoroughgoing physical, hands-on engagement with clay—part loving craft, part struggle, and integral to his intuitive, at times frustrating process—that sets his work apart. Nor are the results going unnoticed: The Victoria & Albert Museum just purchased one of his seven pieces on display in London’s sixpm project space in late January, and in November he will unveil his first solo museum show at England’s Middlesbrough Institute of Modern Art.
All works by Anders Ruhwald. All images courtesy of rowlandcontemporary.
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Ben Waterman: Reckoning of Mile
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Installation view of
Reckoning of Mile.
Installation view of
Reckoning of Mile.
White Cubes.
Installation view of Willing
Them to Sleep. All works by
Ben Waterman. All images
courtesy of Drop City
Gallery.
| by Matthew Kangas
The 32-year-old artist Ben Waterman majored in political theory at Whitman College in 1998 before attending the University of Iowa for one year, followed by current M.F.A. studies in ceramics at the University of Washington Graduate School of Art. Like many recent students of Professor Doug Jeck at U.W., Waterman has now switched to photography and dropped clay for the time being. Let’s hope this is only temporary.
“Reckoning of Mile,” his solo gallery debut in Seattle at the new Drop City Gallery in the basement of Glenn Richards (www.dropcitygallery.com), was a mixed tour-de-force. Its titular centerpiece, Reckoning of Mile, displayed 16,180 oblong unglazed soda- and wood-fired stoneware pieces the artist calls “rail spikes.” Impressive for its sheer size, Reckoning of Mile’s labor-intensive quality is an extraordinary riposte to those who feel craft processes inhibit any attainable art status. Waterman’s three narrow tracks of thin elements set side-by-side were placed in a long raised V-shape around one of the gallery’s interior support columns. At the angle’s vertex, a tall pile of the “spikes” was mounded up.
Instead of the artist’s wordy explanatory statement (so popular in American graduate school art programs) speaking of “presence,” “innocence,” “horror,” and “complex cultural significance,” the works are more about Process art and Minimalist art, closer to Robert Morris and Carl Andre than Waterman’s absurd claims of “looking for America,” as he puts it.
Also disregarding the artist’s windy claim that the exhibition expresses “the stories I had accumulated, people I met, etc.,” maybe it’s better to concentrate on the “et cetera,” and argue for de-intentionalizing Waterman altogether. Many ceramic artists (teachers included) have felt the need to write their own statements, i.e., reviews, because (a) they fear real critical judgment and (b) they secretly think no real art critic will write about or agree with them. There’s no need for such fear on Waterman’s part.
Waterman’s achievement in Reckoning of Mile and the two accompanying pedestal works, White Cubes and Willing Them to Sleep, is substantial enough to suggest a brighter future, one that should continue to interest art critics. How to make large-scale ceramic sculpture has been a dilemma among clay artists for many years. Many Canadian and American ceramists have, like Waterman, turned to installation art, as if to guarantee art status. This is not surprising, but it is recent among clay artists. Elsewhere, it has become an institutionalized avant-garde complete with university art school departments devoted to it and tenured faculty reinforcing it. There is often a ten- to twenty-year lag between contemporary art trends and the mainstream craft world.
For a change, let’s concentrate on how Waterman turned numerous discrete elements into an accretive, giant object, like the big heap in Reckoning of Mile. By far the most interesting part of the piece, the pointed mound could be a breast; if so, Waterman is reconceiving gender. Or it could be an archaeological conceit; if so, Waterman is dredging up American railroad history. Or it could be about the death and detritus of 20th-century industry: so many railroad tracks, nowhere to go.
The duty of the art critic is to project meaning, to interpret, not translate, the artist’s efforts. Sadly, few writers about clay are art critics; many simply swallow whole the artist’s explanatory statements. This often begins with the collusion of dealers (see Katherine Westphal’s writings on the “vessels of metaphor” of Richard DeVore) and continues with the lazy thinking of journalists and artists themselves.
One of Professor Jeck’s predecessors at the U.W., Robert Sperry, once told me “Most craft artists only have one idea per decade.” I hope this is not the case with Ben Waterman. For this show, however, he did use one idea—three times. Besides Reckoning of Mile, White Cubes and Willing Them to Sleep both use the same modular element to slightly differing ends. The former sits on a shelf. Hundreds more nail-like prongs are stacked into three squarish solids. Rather than the warm tones of the big installation piece, these pieces are drenched in white paint. In the latter, a clear, covered Plexiglas tray contains one layer of orderly rows of the same white spikes which are, in this case, loosely dusted with an iron oxide powder.
With each element in each piece fashioned by hand, Waterman’s task has been enormous. Its overall impact suggests obsessive-compulsive behavior—and one basic idea, the clay nail or “rail spike.” This loaded element does not completely transfer from Reckoning of Mile to the other two works. White Cubes is just piles of white clay nails set into cube-like shapes on a shelf. Willing Them to Sleep sets a different, albeit yummy, red-orange frosting on the layer of sealed-in white elements. They follow in a Minimalist tradition in that they need not be about anything except repetition and sequencing.
By persisting in the use of the spike, Waterman dilutes its symbolic power after the large installation piece. Visually compelling through sheer dint of size, all three works command the new space that is sure to become a venue of choice for emerging clay artists. As to the content of such works, the critic and the viewer are the instillers of meaning, not the artist. When the art is removed from the graduate studio, taken off campus and placed in a public setting, no grade is given nor are there any more pats on the head. Ben Waterman may be a late bloomer. I hope he will have more than one idea per decade. I’m looking forward to the next one—or even two.
the author Matthew Kangas is a frequent contributor to Ceramics Monthly, Art in America and Sculpture. His biography, Robert Sperry: Bright Abyss, is due out this fall, distributed by University of Washington Press.
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Tony Moore: Sculpture Paradox in Form
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Who Knows Why? with
Thou in background.
Photo: Marc Awodey.
Smoke Screen (A Work
in Fifteen Parts), detail.
Trophy (A Work in Fifteen Parts). All works by Tony Moore.
| by Marc Awodey
Tony Moore’s recent sculpture installation “Paradox in Form” at Gallery in-the-Field (www.galleryinthefield.com) in Brandon, Vermont... examines a central conundrum of existence: that each hour of life brings us another hour closer to death. But Moore’s work isn’t all doom and gloom; rather, it reminds us that human handiwork can challenge that paradox by leaving lasting imprints on the world.
Memento mori loosely translates from Latin into “remember you are mortal.” The phrase has spawned centuries of skull and funerary-urn images in still-life paintings, friezes, even New England needlepoints. Moore’s Thou, a gravestone form that is about three inches thick, firmly fits into that genre. The word “THOU” is inscribed on this ceramic headstone, recalling Ebenezer Scrooge’s tombstone as revealed by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come in “A Christmas Carol.” Moore also pressed a handprint at lower left, and several leaf forms onto the sculpture’s red and black-singed, wood-fired surfaces. Thou sits on a shelf. Its face is smoothed, but the gravestone’s edges appear as rough as coarsely graveled concrete. Moore often mixes pebbles and grit into his clay.
Trophy is a wall-mounted collection of fifteen buildings, each nine inches high and installed on a grid of little shelves. This aggregate work also employs iconographic forms. Eight buildings have spires, and seven have distinctive mastaba shapes, reminiscent of the earliest Middle Eastern temples.
Smoke Screen is a similar work, but all of its buildings seem to be small cathedrals. Several are imbued with a subtle blue glaze, which also appears in many of the 150 self-portrait heads that constitute Moore’s monumental Who Knows Why?.
A British-American artist, Moore received his M.F.A. from Yale University, and his work has been exhibited on both sides of the Atlantic. He’s also a former exhibition installer at the Guggenheim Museum. So it’s not surprising that Who Knows Why? was installed at Gallery in-the-Field with museum-quality precision, taking the gestalt of the elegantly designed venue into account. In the work, Moore’s relentlessly repeated, disembodied ceramic heads lie in a precise arrangement on the gallery floor. They are also stacked into a seven-foot-tall vertical, cage-like structure; the faces are cheek to cheek and slightly upturned.
The floor pieces in Who Knows Why? are the color of parchment, while blue specimens reside in the cage. Though each individual head is like a death mask, and the tall cage recalls the Catacombs of Paris, Moore’s 150 self-portraits aren’t necessarily macabre. Instead, each evokes a successive soul with its own identity, even though all the heads are virtually identical. Their beautiful glazing contributes to their peaceful appearance.
As is obvious from the hues of blue-gray, umber, red oxide, black and white sprinkled across the exhibition, Moore is a superb ceramics technician. An exhibition sign discloses that he fires his pieces for six to eight days in an 18-foot-long hybrid Anagama-Noborigama Japanese-style wood-fire kiln of his own construction. In that kiln, Moore commingles inferno and earth. The works that emerge from it tell a story of spiritual transcendence.
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Sixteenth Annual Strictly Functional Pottery National
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Alyssa Welch’s
patterned tray.
Tyler Gulden’s striped cup.
Karen Swyler’s Softly.
| The following is excerpted from Linda Arbuckle’s juror statement for the Strictly Functional Pottery National. Arbuckle is an internationally exhibited potter, Professor of Art at the University of Florida, as well as a member of the Ceramics Monthly advisory board. The exhibition will be on view through June 27 at the Wayne Art Center (www.wayneart.org) in Wayne, Pennsylvania.
My appreciation to everyone who entered, sharing your enthusiasm for your work. There were more worthy works than I was able to include in the show. As previous jurors have noted, jurying is interesting, inspiring, and in the later stages, full of difficult choices.
One of the givens in any creative endeavor is that you have to take risks and make the unsuccessful works on the way to learning how to make the distinguished works that communicate. This is true for the technical as well as the personal and conceptual expressions in works.
In addition to taking risks in creating, artists take risks when submitting work to peer review, such as juried shows. We all feel good about seeing our work show up in good company, presented formally to other artists and the world. All the artists I know have also felt disappointment, either from the results coming out of a kiln and/or response from other artists or art professionals. And so we seek and continue to grow.
I feel deeply about the generosity and pluck of the ceramics community, and its general willingness to share, whether that’s in technical problem-solving, discussion of intent and reading of works, or sending works off to a show so the rest of us can see, enjoy and think about skill, personal viewpoint, meaning and art. We are a strong, resilient group, maybe because we fail so often. Thanks to everyone who has taken a risk in showing someone what you’ve made, helped someone in studio, talked to people about what you do, and continued the struggle (with some joys, I hope) to make satisfying, personal work. To me, hand-made pottery in the 21st century is all about values. I think the clay community has some very good ones, although we are not a monolithic group. Hand-made functional work champions attention and engagement in daily life—that this really matters and makes a difference. It’s an optimistic thought. Thanks to all for the opportunity to see your work. It was a labor of love to assemble the show.
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Doug Herren’s Compressor
and Sea-foam Table Stand.
| “Doug Herren: Industria,” a solo exhibition of new work by the artist, was on view recently at Kelly & Weber Fine Art (www.myspace.com/201gallery) in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
“My current work derives from my training as a functional potter,” says Herren. “In my most recent work I create oversized vessel forms—teapots, vases, platters, etc.—that are infused with an industrial sensibility. These are sectional forms that must be pieced together because of their scale. The sources I use are utilitarian pottery forms; however, I have recast them to resemble industrial detritus. While there is still an echo of function in these pieces, that function and purpose can only be guessed at and intuited.
“I depart further from my past work as a potter in the treatment of surfaces. Rather than the use of traditional pottery glazes for finishing, I strive to replicate the surfaces of abandoned machinery. Here I employ sign-painter’s paints in multiple layers applied over a black-matt glazed surface. Then I scrub the surfaces with steel wool to erode and distress planes and edges, exposing under-layers of color. The result actually gives an extra punch to the overall color palette. While the work is about abandonment and decay, the final result actually comes off as something more playful and boisterous. The ambiguity of the work’s intended function and purpose has less to do with nostalgia than to tease and prod the viewer into inventing their own story lines.”
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| Porcelain Now: The Alfred Connection |
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Albion Stafford’s
Vase Construction.
| “Porcelain Now: The Alfred Connection,” a group exhibition featuring the work of Kristen Kieffer, Andy Shaw and Albion Stafford, was recently on view at The Artisan Gallery (www.theartisangallery.com) in Northampton, Massachusetts.
“My work is currently focused on an investigation into the ways in which we know, respond to and are affected by our environments,” said Stafford. “The characteristics present in this work are inspired by the elements of the modern world around us. ...Through the format of functional ceramics, I urge the viewer to see a representation of our landscapes that investigates the balance between nature and construct, disarray and structure. From this vantage point, one may discover the beauty of the complex relationships that make up our surroundings.”
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Dirk Staschke’s Baroque 1.
| “(In) Between,” a group show featuring the work of Dirk Staschke, Adelaide Paul, Damien Hirst, Randall Sellers, Tim Tate, Anne Siems and Joe Boruchow, will be on view through June 28 at the Wexler Gallery (www.wexlergallery.com) in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Curated by Sienna Freeman, Associate Director of the gallery, the exhibition is based loosely on the idea of Vanitas, 16th and 17th century Dutch still-life paintings that included symbols of mortality, celebrating life’s pain and pleasures while meditating on their inevitable loss.
“Working in two and three dimensions, these seven artists investigate the transitory nature of life and the contemporary human experience,” said Freeman. “Although their mediums and experiences in the art world are diverse, these artists are linked by a certain uncanny quality possessed by their work. Often illustrated with imagery revolving around the passage of time, nature and earthly belongings, this quality begs the viewer to consider their own mortality and question their perception of reality. ...Dirk Staschke is a ceramicist and sculptor who weaves subtle allegory into a timeless art form. Figurative, architectural and ornamental in nature, Staschke’s work explores lines between the rational and irrational, the beautiful and the grotesque.”
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| The Objects of My Affection |
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Kyla Toomey’s
pattern mugs.
| “The Objects of My Affection,” a solo exhibition of new works by Kyla Toomey, will be on view through June 21 at the Clay Art Center (www.clayartcenter.org) in Port Chester, New York. Toomey will also lead a one-day demonstration workshop entitled “Patterns on Pots” on June 21.
“My understanding of ceramics is based around the active process of creating,” said Toomey. “As a creator I have limitless possibilities to work with, and yet I have chosen to work with an intentionally restricted set of ideas and tools which in turn opens another realm of limitless possibilities. Pattern is the repetition and rotation of one or more shapes or lines to create positives within negative space. I use pattern to move through or around form, to break up the space and mark it as my own. The surface and decoration on the exterior informs the interior, defining the space, noting that they are directly connected, and yet read as inherently different.”
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Gitte Jungersen’s
A Magic Moment.
| “Love Your Figure,” a group exhibition featuring works by Hanneke Giezen, Clémence Van Lunen, Gitte Jungersen, Steen Ipsen, Louise Hindsgavl and Marieke Pauwels, was on view recently at Puls Contemporary Ceramics (www.pulsceramics.com) in Brussels, Belgium.
“The Danish artist Jungersen brings us underhandedly to childhood in her mysterious landscapes,” said gallery director, Annette Sloth. “These landscapes were earlier left unpopulated, but recently Jungersen has introduced alien inhabitants to them. She joins ready-made objects, often innocent toys, to her undefined bubbling, colored and brilliant mass. The interaction between the vigorous glaze and the found figures brings us back to everyone’s long ago and unspoken past.”
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| Jordi Marcet and Rosa Vila-Abadal |
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Jordi Marcet and Rosa
Vila-Abadal’s Words.
| New work by Jordi Marcet and Rosa Vila-Abadal will be on view recently at Loes & Reinier International Ceramics (www.loes-reinier.com) in Deventer, Netherlands.
This artist couple has been making work together since 1969. Initially, their work followed the shapes and techniques of Catalan popular ceramics. Focusing on design and painting, they produce works that are sold in art shops throughout Spain. Boxes, plates, bowls and less functional stoneware shapes are rhythmically decorated with figurative or abstract motives or covered with comic book or ritual-looking figures.
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Victoria Christen’s cream
and sugar set. Photo:
Courtney Frisse.
| New work by Victoria Christen will be on view through August 9 at Margo’s Pottery and Fine Crafts (www.margospottery.com) in Buffalo, Wyoming.
Victoria Christen has spent the last ten years in Portland, Oregon. Her work has become more spontaneous since she has been there. She views her plates as canvases for drawing, and tries to “capture a moment that I experience in the garden: the cherry blossoms floating on the surface of the pond, the wind in the branches.” She applies a slip with the consistency of milk quickly to the surface of her pieces when they are leather hard. The piece is in constant motion while the slip is being applied, to allow the slip to follow the throwing lines, and to cascade. She then lets the piece dry. Once the piece is bone dry, she applies color, using commercial underglazes, glazes and oxide washes. The next step is carving the surface of the clay using a variety of tools. Finally, she applies thin black lines of underglaze to areas of the surface. Once the piece is dry, she sands the raised areas of clay in a well ventilated area while wearing a mask. She also removes some of the slip, revealing the red clay surface, in order to, as Christen puts it, “suggest the passage of time and the knitting of form and surface.”
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Kukuli Velarde’s Chola
de Mierda (Mocha, Peru,
AD 200).
| A group exhibition of works by David Regan, Alev Ebüzziya, Beth Cavener Stichter, Akio Takamori and Kukuli Velarde was recently on view at Barry Friedman Ltd. (www.barryfriedmanltd.com) in New York City.
A Peruvian artist with American citizenship, Kukuli Velarde’s work is shaped by what she terms a ‘continuous hybridization—a cultural context defined, redefined and tormented by the simultaneous influences of pre–Columbian, post–Colonial and Republican eras.’ Choosing to work with clay, historically a humble material rooted in folk traditions, her sculptural aesthetic draws from pre–Columbian terra-cotta vessels and figurines. However, Velarde recasts traditional iconography to address a diversity of contemporary subjects, from post–Colonial identity and gender relations to personal introspection.
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Bente Skjøttgaard’s White
Rocks–n°0803.
| New work by Bente Skjøttgaard was recently on view at Køppe Gallery (www.koppegallery.com) in Copenhagen, Denmark.
“The ceramics are elemental and chaste, but Skjøttgaard is not afraid of going to extremes,” said Erik Steffensen, Professor at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Copenhagen. “The artist moves wherever the clay happens to be pointing the way. Her ceramics look like stones and tree stubs that have fallen here and there on the mountainside, while we continue to move through the landscape; there are brooks that are babbling and snows that are melting: white glazes in all variations. There is proximity to moss and lichen, a feeling for snow, soft forms and erosion that upturns the mud and uncovers exquisite mineral deposits: kaolin, quartz and feldspar. Geological phenomena: ceramics is geology—on the sophisticated and refined level. Basis and element converge with human beings’ ideas and present-day experience. Skjøttgaard is working as a researcher; she writes down everything that she carries out in meticulous detail and she works with an admixture of glazes, but when she tests out the substance in the kiln and holds her creative productions up to the light of a final assessment, the systematics often break down. Here, it is only the aesthetic power and the expressive richness that count.”
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Mary Roehm’s
Two Wall Pods.
| New work by Mary Roehm was on view recently at Lacoste Gallery (www.lacostegallery.com) in Concord, Massachusetts.
“Roehm is known for her gravity-defying, paper-thin vessels that wilt under their own weight,” said gallery owner Lucy Lacoste. “Her signature pieces, large thrown bowls with small feet, seem poised between stability and flight. Roehm has branched out with her sculptural wall pods, highlighting a divergence from utilitarian vessel based forms. Her theme of inside outside interactions and definition is persistent with her reoccurring finger punched holes. She continues to experiment with the juxtaposition of black and white porcelain; and the effects of the wood-firing process.”
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