Material Imperfection: Mapping Form Through Memory

THESIS

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Master of Fine Arts in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Ashley Marie Neukamm

Graduate Program in Art

The Ohio State University

2014

Master’s Examination Committee:

Rebecca Harvey, Advisor

Alison Crocetta

Steven Thurston

Ashley Marie Neukamm

2014

Abstract

The trajectory of this thesis will chronicle the evolution of my MFA candidacy research at The Ohio State University. My work began with an interest in surface that ultimately shifted to a procedure and material-oriented practice that expresses my desire to map memory through ceramic process. My vessels push against traditional notions of functionality combined with a desire to interact with form. Within the realm of ceramic form, issues of flaws and beauty within functional wares drive my work. Using variations of the multiple, I explore individuality. Substantial forms that emphasize the rims, body, and feet of the vessels provide areas for modification. Variation is also derived from anomalies in the ceramic material. I push the clay to its physical limits, testing the edge of functionality, and looking for the moment where engagement meets use.

Dedication

For my parents who inspired me to follow my passions and who have unconditionally

believed in me.

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Acknowledgments

While it hasn’t always been easy, I am so grateful for the wisdom, advice, and encouragement from my advisor Rebecca Harvey, and committee members Alison

Crocetta and Steven Thurston. Thank you so much for all your support!

Vita

2006 ...... Lake Brantley High School

2010 ...... B.F.A., University of Florida

2011 ...... Post Baccalaureate Certificate, University of

Massachusetts Dartmouth

2011 to present ...... Graduate Teaching Associate, Department

of Art, The Ohio State University

Fields of Study

Major Field: Art

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii

Dedication ...... iii

Acknowledgments ...... iv

Vita ...... v

Table of Contents ...... vi

List of Figures ...... vii

Chapter 1: Introduction to Touch ...... 1

Chapter 2: Organization and Process ...... 3

Chapter 3: Ideology and Exploration ...... 9

Chapter 4: Color and Memory ...... 12

Chapter 5: Form and Material ...... 16

Chapter 6: Summation ...... 23

References ...... 25

List of Figures

Figure 1. Tea For One ...... 4

Figure 2. Stack 3 ...... 5

Figure 3. Service for 300 ...... 7

Figure 4. My Mother's Plates ...... 10

Figure 5. Material Purity ...... 13

Figure 6. White IKEA Plate ...... 16

Figure 7. An Island of Perfection ...... 18

Figure 8. Freedom From Contamination Triptych ...... 20

Figure 9. Flower Bricks ...... 21

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Chapter 1: Introduction to Touch

I create ceramic vessels that serve a utilitarian purpose while addressing concerns of functionality, multiplicity, and individuality. Notions of form and function are in response to an upbringing surrounded by ceramic tchotchkes and fine china. The urge to touch, make, collect, and display are all directly related to my upbringing, and are oftentimes in direct opposition to how I was raised.

As infants, one of the ways we learn is through sensory touch. It is an innate urge to explore something with our hands. It is not enough to just see an object, but to feel it and discover whether it is smooth, abrasive, cold, or hot. This is what enriches the senses and allows for a deeper understanding of the material in front of us. Growing up there were tons of objects in my home I was forbidden to touch, and of course curiosity got the better of me. The cold, hard, slick feel of my parent's ceramic objects intrigued me from a young age and I still remember getting in trouble for touching something that was "off limits." In my work, I strive to facilitate in the user an urge to touch and examine my ceramic vessels.

My interest in materiality comes from this desire to touch. There is a certain weight that comes with using a ceramic vessel versus paper or plastic. One of my greatest joys is waking up and savoring a hot cup of coffee in a ceramic mug, feeling the cup warm in my hands. I like making work that has the potential to affect someone's life, even if it is in a small, minute way. I want my work to evoke a sense of curiosity and

1 wonder while inviting continual use, leading to a growing familiarity of the form and surface.

Chapter 2: Organization and Process

Spatial barriers have long been evident in my work. Whether expressed through surface decoration or through materiality, the building and breaking of planes, the undulations of line that repeats is a constant. When I entered graduate school, color, pattern, and texture adorned my pots. Growing up I was accustomed to using relatively plain dishes—most of the surface decoration was found on the rim of the plate or bowl.

In my work, surface always trumped form. I began drawing and overlapping patterns and images to reference the maps I looked at in my youth. Regional maps of my hometown and state were the inspiration for my imagery, and more specifically, the maps focused on land organization and meteorological patterns. While the actual data represented on the maps was not important, the graphic quality of the maps and the way they organized space seemed to be at the heart of the matter. I translated the imagery from my maps into abstract drawings that referenced barriers and the breakdown of space on my forms. My palette referenced not only the brightly colored maps, but also the vivid beach homes I grew up around in central Florida.

Figure 1. Tea For One

As I looked at these forms, I was unhappy with the static nature of the surface— they lacked visual depth and atmosphere. However, I was drawn to the fact that they seemed to offer themselves as building blocks for more complicated forms. I played with their orientations in my studio and what interested me were the forms they created as I stacked and clustered vessels together. I made towers to lift off the table. Color quieted while silhouette and line became the focus of my work. These stacks had multiple forms combining to create a secondary shape that extended, contracted, and rose off the table.

The division of space between each object created a physical barrier between each subsequent form.

Figure 2. Stack 3

Stripping away the layers in my work, I focused individually on color, line, and texture to concentrate on how to recreate the amount of information on each singular piece, and translate that on to multiple vessels. I wanted to see if this had the same result without overwhelming the senses, and one of my first experiments with this was using

5 the RAM press to create blanks. The RAM press is a hydraulic machine that was designed by Keith Blackburn and Richard Steele, two graduate ceramic engineering students at The Ohio State University in the mid-1940s (Pelleriti). This machine is used to create multiple identical objects. It compresses clay in a two-part mold with an internal compressed air system to assist in releasing the clay after compression. The RAM requires minimal water in the clay to prevent suction to the die and warping of the object.

In lowering the amount of water in the clay along with the pressure of the hydraulic lifts creates a tightly compressed, non-plastic clay object (Pelleriti).

While making my first round of RAM pressed plates, Service for 300, however, I used varying weights of clay to determine how much was needed to fill out the mold, and as a result, they were variations in size.

Figure 3. Service for 300

I realized I was more interested in the form when it didn't quite fill out the mold in its entirety. The variation in form from a singular die gave me access to generating irregular multiples quickly. The edge of the plate was cracked from compressing the dies together.

The crushing of clay in the RAM press creates individualized marks, while providing a trace of how it is made. When stacked together they created the jagged lines I was drawing on my vessels. Stripping the layers away, I focused on working with solid blocks of color.

Mapping the glazes over the forms rather than referencing maps specifically, I used each plate as a building block to create broader forms. My forms also became more

7 angular and rigid, similar to the stacks I explored previously. This eventually led to my obsession with accumulating and making objects in significant quantities. Working with the multiple allows me to create a volume of work that appears uniform, but upon further inspection, reveals small variations among objects. It is in the comparison of the different among the amount of similar objects that my interest lays.

Experimentation and research with high-fire clay and glazes provided the material phenomenon I felt was lacking in my mid-range work. Switching from porcelain to a dark, chocolate brown porcelaneous stoneware gave my work a warm, earthy feel. Darker than dirt, it reminds me of the mud I played with as a child. It stains my hands and fills all the lines in my fingertips with a rich brown color. I remember my mother scrubbing the dirt off me before I could enter the house each afternoon.

Chapter 3: Ideology and Exploration

During this time I was struggling with ideologies imposed on me as a maker and was trying to navigate those pressures in the studio. It was drilled into me as an undergraduate that all ceramic vessels had to be functional, decorated, and beautiful. I began looking at ceramic work from the Arts and Crafts Movement, Mingei (the Japanese

Arts and Crafts Movement), and at Minnesota Pottery. There is a subtle beauty in the looseness of these forms and surfaces. Cylindrical shapes formed the base for many of these forms with simple atmospheric glazes as surface.

As my personal reservations surrounding these notions of beauty resolved, I found that my work loosened up. Throwing lines, wonky rims, and untrimmed feet littered my studio. Work was shoved into corners and shelves and stacked on top of each other. I found this visually stimulating, because it reminded me of my mother's hoarding and cramming of dishes throughout our home. Growing up, we had seventeen different sets of ceramic dinnerware. She had them hidden in closets, the attic, under cabinets, and in our bedrooms. My mother chose to use only one set for the bulk of my life and used the rest for special occasions. Seeing the same, boring fruit-themed plates, cups, and bowls everyday when I knew there were dozens of other options in the house really solidified my desire to make something more interesting--something I'd want to use, and that I'd be excited to touch and examine.

The vessels I make satisfy my urge to question the objects I grew up seeing and using. Those vessels were made out of a buff stoneware, rimmed with a forest green band that also included grapes, apples, and strawberries.

Figure 4. My Mother's Plates

Horrendous as they are, my parents still use them. Bowls are low-lying and are borderline plates. The plates themselves are enormous and could fit three servings. Cups have uncomfortable handles and hold hardly any liquid. Everything is painfully similar. The exciting moments are from wear and tear—a chip on the foot or rim, a slight fade of the rim's decorative elements, staining from years of use, and craze lines from knife cut marks. I made a series of work that was all about those broken and fractured lines—but in

10 the end found this unsatisfying because with function completely removed, there is no longer any need to touch.

I'm interested in the idea that "we become particularly interested in the things we can change" (Sennett, 2008, p. 120). I try to make forms that are full, robust, and ample.

Handles must be comfortable, as well as interesting. Soft clay loops around and kisses the bottom of the cup, just above the crisp, dark line of the clay foot. Rims rip and crack while the clay is squeezed and compressed in the RAM. Evidence of process is highlighted by exposing the raw clay, as well as partially filled molds that produce imperfect replicas. The imperfections and variations among form reference the maker, question craftsmanship, and whether we need perfection for something to function. The trace of my making is left evident through the casualness of form. I feel there is formalness in tight and crisp forms. However, supportive objects such as pedestals have a minimal and machined quality to provide a contrast to the looseness of the ceramic objects.

Chapter 4: Color and Memory

I use color in a very particular way that is reminiscent of old maps. Light blue, pale yellow, white, and dark brown reference water, land, the key, and the line work. My palette is soft and subtle like the careworn papers of maps I used to look at while driving in the car with my family. Focusing on maps helped quell my motion sickness in my adolescence and I derive a sense of comfort from those objects. It seems fitting to use those color schemes in my work.

Living on a peninsula, I was surrounded by water, so the maps tended to have large areas of blue. Disappearing islands were marked with dotted lines in the water and remind me of the blue bloated plates from Material Purity.

Figure 5. Material Purity

There is something interesting about the way landmasses appear and disappear, similar to the plates pre/post firing. The bloats in the plates are reminiscent of the temporal quality of the disappearing islands. Due to the high iron content of my clay, the forms become unstable at high temperatures and create a gas pocket where the clay expands and forms a bubble. These bloats are like blisters. They are formed randomly across the clay surface and create a new landscape throughout the form.

The soft curves of the forms conjure up bodily images, similar to the ancient metaphor of the vessel as the body. These protrusions remind me of small lumps, bumps, and subtle "imperfections" in our bodies. Their imperfections make them beautiful. They

13 make a mark that tells a story of how high the clay has risen to reach its peak. These moments of phenomenon are frozen in time, similar to a photograph. There is something special in the ability to freeze a memory and make it permanent.

Memory is funny. I can vividly remember the first time I went swimming as a child, but I have a difficult time remembering what my early childhood home looked like.

I know it was a single story home with tons of wallpaper, but besides that, I don't remember much else. I spent the first twelve years of my life in that house. For me, the things I remember about our home were the dish sets my mom hid around the house—the ones for special occasions, the ones for everyday, and the ones my dad didn't know we owned. I have an innate connection to these dishes. My mom and I always gushed over them when she brought them out. To me, those dishes locate our family. We use them to bring everyone together for meals. Depending on the time of year, my mother brings out her holiday china. She has different sets for the New Year, Easter, the Fourth of July,

Thanksgiving, and Christmas, to name a few. She takes pride in these sets. Some of my fondest memories are with my family around a table. There are even specific sets of family stories that we tell that become associated with each particular set of dishes.

Clay also has a memory. Anything imprinted on it will become evident through the firing process. The clay stretches, pulls, bubbles, and breaks. I use this as a way to map a memory across my forms. I make the intangible tangible through the heat of the kiln. There is an inherent pattern hidden in the clay forms that is brought to the surface through process. These marks create pattern where none existed prior. I like to think that this pattern is ingrained in the clay and is unique to each piece.

The way clay breaks and moves is seductive; it is hard and soft, masculine and feminine, rigid and supple. It is the compression of particles that creates form, texture, and weight. Pits, bloats, cracks enhance the tactility of the material. It is the exploitation of material memory that guides my work. Finding the right moment to pit, bloat, or crack an object is essential: simplicity in structure, complexity in surface.

Rigid grids define the spaces that houses forms, while the asymmetrical forms create a division of irregular space between each vessel. The negative space is equally as important as the positive space occupied by the object. Pattern is formed in the absence of the physical object and alludes to chaos. Everything in my practice is about knowing when to control and when to let go. Loosening control allows room for play and growth, while maintaining control provides perimeters for working. Weight and spacing are two common elements of control I rely on while working. I enjoy beginning each form with the same amount of material and seeing how far I can stretch and bend it while maintaining a specific shape. These slight variations in form are little victories.

Chapter 5: Form and Material

Following on my earlier exploration with the RAM, Material Purity is an investigation in the intersection between form, material, and function. The original form is a commercial plate I found in a thrift store. It was an IKEA 13" white dinner plate with a slight bow in the center.

Figure 6. White IKEA Plate

To me, this form is the minimalist's definition of a functioning plate: it is clean, simple, and devoid of decoration. It is important to me that I used the quintessential "generic plate" form to make a RAM die from because I wanted to generate similar forms where the variation comes from the process of pressing and firing. I used the way clay stretches and breaks differently during each pressing, so variation in form is quickly achieved. The variations are highlighted on the rim with white slip. The slip fills in the crevasses and is wiped away to expose the raw clay.

The interior and exterior surfaces of the form are manipulated during the firing process. Bloats are formed on the surface and create a new obstacle for the user while subverting the notion of what a plate is. Why does a plate need to be a certain size or weight? What happens when the plate is heavy when empty? How do you use a plate that is segmenting space irrationally?

Hung on the wall, these plates wallpaper the space, referencing the home. While ordered in a grid, the variety of shapes and sizes of plates appears mildly disorganized.

There is a push and pull of order and chaos. Subtle changes in glaze surfaces range from sugary matte to high gloss. These remind me of the surface textures of my family's dishes

I used growing up. The colors are soft and highlight the curves of the bloats.

"The grid is a spatial index of a regular tessellation that divides areas into contiguous cells" (Grid, n.d.). Space and mass are organized and divided on maps with latitudinal and longitudinal lines in a regular pattern. Within these mathematical lines, irregular shapes form the land and sea masses present. There is an overlapping of order

17 and chaos in maps that is similar to my ceramic work. Grids and columns form the base structures that house my vessels. The structural components are the longitudinal and latitudinal lines of the map, while the physical objects are the landmasses.

An Island of Perfection examines form, material, and function in opposition to

Material Purity.

Figure 7. An Island of Perfection

The prototype for this form was hand-built, large and substantial, in contrast to the slender IKEA plate. Pushing against the tradition of functional ceramics, from Sévres to

Fiestaware, my thick plates question the notion of what constitutes a plate. I'm interested in what happens when the plate is heavy when empty. Does that make it more or less approachable? How heavy is too heavy?

The form itself is robust. I also chose to keep the stress cracks that happened when rolling out the original slab as evidence of the building process. In addition, I allowed the RAM die to deteriorate at a rapid pace while pressing the forms. Stiff clay, minimal water, and high air pressure caused the clay to stick and eventually rip apart the die. The deterioration of process and material allowed me to play with variation in form without relying on firing atmospheres to manipulate my form.

The pedestal these plates are stacked on provides a home for them to rest when not in use. While still ordered, the forms give over to disarray more readily. They are stacked on top of each other, using their weight and size to stabilize the structure. Glazed with a robin egg blue, the plates create a divide between the ground and the horizon.

From a distance, the top of An Island of Perfection grazes the bottom of Material Purity.

In my thesis show, Freedom From Contamination Triptych was located to the right of Material Purity and An Island of Perfection on a square column.

Figure 8. Freedom From Contamination Triptych

Each side had 9 oversized tumblers on circular floating shelves. Organized in a 3x3 grid, three sides of the column worked in tandem to house these tumblers. Similar to the other work, these tumblers' proportions are slightly exaggerated. Uncomfortable in one hand, they require two, especially when full. I'm curious about the interaction of the user and the object. How can I manipulate their actions so they experience these tumblers differently from other cups?

These tumblers are glazed white and yellow with combinations of stripes, solids, and partial unglazed spots. The forms play off the plate’s cylindrical shape. They have slight bows and modifications in height and width, but are all the same weight.

Similar to Material Purity and An Island of Perfection, each tumbler in Freedom

From Contamination Triptych has its own home for when not in use. These shelves are just as important as the cup. Almost a perfect circle, they mimic the base of the tumblers and provide a self-contained home for each individual piece.

Flower Bricks was located on the fourth side of the column.

Figure 9. Flower Bricks

Flower bricks are traditional ceramic forms. Holders for fresh, single-stem flowers, and these bricks are often used as centerpieces on formal occasions. Flower bricks emerged in the early 18th century in Europe as a way to display tulip bulbs. I chose this form because it is one I was accustomed to seeing in my home growing up. A fan of the decorative, my mom had fake and real flowers around the house. The flower bricks in Flower Bricks are simple and slightly awkward. The top mimics the tumblers on the adjacent walls of the column, while the base is a larger altered version of them. The forms are extravagant without frills.

Chapter 6: Summation

My mother’s dishes locate our family—they house specific family stories associated with each different set. I use the memories of her dishes as a platform for questioning form, function, and decorum. I'm curious about what function is, what constitutes a flaw, and what in turn makes that flaw beautiful. Pushing up against our perception of function and beauty, I use traditional ceramic faults to discuss usability and perfection. It is in these imperfections that I discuss notions of propriety.

The shift in my work from intentionally drawing surface to a material based recording of form has allowed the material itself to dictate its body. It is a way to map clay’s inherent memory. Pattern hidden in the structure of the clay is exposed during pressing and firing. It becomes in itself a way to map material memory.

Glaze is also mapped across form. I use glossy and sugary matte glazes that reference colors from old maps. Pale yellow, blue, and white surfaces accentuate form, act as a layered pattern, and contrast my dark brown stoneware. My glazes are opaque and obscure the surface to create a second skin. Raw clay is visible on rims and emphasizes the asymmetrical banding of my circular forms. The circle has no beginning or end. They are continuous and lack a front or back. Organized in a grid pattern, there is a rigid composition that juxtaposes my loose asymmetrical forms.

I’m interested in finding variation in repetition, in adjusting size and weight. I look at how these changes shift the ways in which we interact with these vessels. What happens when tumblers are too large to be comfortably held in one hand, when a plate is

23 heavy even when empty? I push my ceramic materials to their physical limits, test the edge of functionality, and look for the place where engagement intersects with use.

References

Pelleriti, Richard. (1998). History of the RAM Process. Ceramic Industry Magazine, July. Retrieved from http://www.ramprocess.com/Articles/history.htm

Sennett, Richard. (2008). The Craftsman. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Grid. (n.d.). In Wikipedia. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grid_(spatial_index)