Making a pot
Tea is an act complete in its simplicity. When I drink tea, there is only me and the tea. The rest of the world dissolves. There are no worries about the future. No dwelling on past mistakes. Tea is simple: loose leaf tea, hot pure water, a cup. I inhale the scent, tiny delicate pieces of the tea floating above the cup. I drink the tea, the essence of the leaves becoming a part of me. I am informed by the tea, changed. This is the act of life, in one pure moment, and in this act the truth of the world suddenly becomes revealed: all the complexity, pain, drama of life is a pretense, invented in our minds for no good purpose. There is only the tea, and me, converging.
– Thich Nhat Hanh
A pot is an act complete in its simplicity. When I make a pot, there is only me and the clay. The rest of the world dissolves. There are no worries about the future. No dwelling on past mistakes. Pottery is simple: clay, water, fire. My hands feel the earth, delicate and living shapes emerge from the clay. I absorb the process, the essence of the clay becoming a part of me. I am informed by the clay, changed. This is the act of life, in one pure moment, and in this act the truth of the world suddenly becomes revealed: all the complexity, pain, drama of life is a pretense, invented in our minds for no good purpose. There is only the clay, and me, converging.
– with the deepest gratitude, Jeremy Keala
Complexity in harmony
I love the complexity and interdependence of nature. A seemingly infinite number of random elements combine in any given space and time to create beauty. There is harmony in complexity; there is chaos in simplicity. This keeps me curious. I work with a vast palette of glazes and an array of organic shapes, delighting in the play of complexity. And sometimes the results are…
– Jeremy Keala
Dancing with clay
Making a pot is about movement. This heritage comes from my practice as a dancer, an improviser: I start with a move. It does not matter where the process begins. I’m not performing a set piece that unfolds according to a plan. Rather, the first move brings the second, and so on, until the dance with clay grows and takes on its own proportions. Different elements may be involved: the speed of the wheel, the amount of water, one finger, three fingers, a hand or a tool.
Much like a conversation between two friends wherein one subject arises and flows naturally into another. Similarly, creating a series of pots is like a conversation with clay. Various rhythms, images, movements arise and fall until the series takes on its own momentum. This leaves open the possibility of surprise, of chance.
The practice (and challenge) of dancing with clay is to leave the field of possibilities wide open while still creating something that falls within the category of a vessel. Yet, apart from this open-ended category, I don’t interpret something. I do something. I present something. Any kind of interpretation is left to whomever is using the vessel.
– Jeremy Keala
*this text is adapted from writings by Merce Cunningham whose work in collaboration with John Cage has deeply influenced my perceptions of creativity and ceramics. The original text may be read here.
About
Born in Montana, raised in NYC and around the world (but mostly France). Years watching dancers learn Merce Cunningham technique, years running around dance studios and theaters, before running away to the mountains. A brief interlude attempting to conquer the mountains — before deciding I was happier looking up at them. My hands found clay, my body found dance again. I’m a pot maker, tea lover, dancer, writer and slightly deranged explorer. Come say hi!