Ceramics Archives - Pinky & Maurice

December 13, 2016 by Claire Atkins 2 Comments

Vulnerability : The Birthplace of Creativity

Last week I was on the farm, and I wrote about inspiration, and the importance of filling up our creative tanks. This week in the valley, I spent time thinking about the role vulnerability plays in the life of an artist.

In China last month I had the good fortune to hear Professor Brian Snapp speak about our grey matter – he spoke about how we learn, remember, and make. In his talk he quoted scholar and author, Dr. Brene Brown, and her words hit me right between the eyes. For Brene Brown, vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation.

Brene Brown, has devoted her academic life to studying courage, worthiness and shame. And after more than a decade of research, and thousands of manilla folders filled with interviews and the stories of real people, she says that vulnerability is the hallmark of humans who dare to live wholeheartedly, and while it’s not comfortable, it’s necessary if we ever want to make anything authentic as artists.

She says, by nature we are vulnerable, we live in a vulnerable world, but we do our very best to numb it, and when we do this we also cut off the potential to be truly creative or to experience deep joy.

We numb vulnerability because we want everything that is uncertain to be certain, everything that is imperfect to be perfect, and by numbing ourselves to it, we can also pretend that what we do and say to other people doesn’t effect them.To be vulnerable is to allow yourself to be deeply seen.

Two years ago my father died. For years we skirted around conversations we needed to have, and we never had them, and then in the end we ran out of time.

My way of coping with it was to throw myself into work, and I said yes to anything that came along because I didn’t want to deal with the intense pain. But, ‘the truth will out’, as my old Grandfather used to say. Shutting down was much easier at the time, but grief spilled out through the cracks and manifested itself in a myriad of ways, some of them destructive, some of them physical – and Brene’s right, it impacts on creativity.

My husband and I bought a property this year. It’s a beautiful valley in Northern NSW with over 200 acres of pasture and bush. There’s no electricity, internet, or phone service, just an old caravan and most recently a dunny. It’s a place we retreat to. Sometimes it makes me cringe that we needed to take out another mortgage to ensure we spend more time just being. But every weekend the valley is opening me up.

And the art is slowly coming back.

The valley tells me stories. Let me share one…The sun’s up but still soft, blinking at me through the knotted limbs of an old angophora, and the needles of a casuarina brush the caravan skin like a snare drum. There’s milk warming on the gas stove and suddenly I’m a kid again on school holidays, under the covers, nuzzling into my Nan’s meaty arms. Grandfather’s whistling in the kitchen, jiggling china on the breakfast trolley in his slippers and blue checkered dressing gown. If I stretch my arms up I could almost pop the blisters on the caravan ceiling. But I resist the urge and instead swing my feet to the lino, and step over my youngest son, still sleeping, open mouthed. He takes up the entire length of the kitchen floor.

The sandy loam crushes under my boots, and the valley is green and punctuated with tiny purple and yellow flowers. We can flush the dunny again, but even with this luxury I carry the shovel with me. I haven’t been this scared of a toilet for a long time, but last night, I made my debut peeing for two small brown snakes, their heads licked with a white stripe. I don’t know what they are, but they were a tough audience, and this morning I’m grateful for the dogs at my heel. The kookaburras start up.

My eldest strides past me, up the red track to the highest point of the property to consult Dr Google. Poor bugger, he’s been holding on all night and he wants to know what the snakes are. But there’s no reception. Just flies.

Shovel in hand, poised, warrior like, I stick my head in the doorway. But this time, it’s the dogs turn to watch, and soon they’re on a scent, digging at the earth floor, snorting and scratching at the ply walls. I reach for the shovel.After breakfast I ride alone along the southern ridge. In parts the track closes in thick with lantana, and I slowly paddle through in first over the gnarly roots and limestone outcrops, my eye out for the bull. He’s the size of a small shed and even with his big curly face he still manages to scare me to death. The ridge widens out, park like, scattered with bleached hips, thigh bones and jaws filled with petrified teeth. Up ahead a mother is lowing deep and she eyes me big and slow. I cut the motor. Bowing her big creamy head she licks her newborn with her rough tongue. It doesn’t respond. I kick the stand quiet, take off my gloves and helmet and walk towards her speaking soft. She moves and stands awkwardly under a sapling. I crouch before his body. The calf’s eye looks skyward and his perfect pink nostrils trail faintly with blood like wisps of smoke he’s just inhaled. His hair stands up, brushed this way and that, like a child who has just stumbled out of bed. All these tiny deaths. Three black crows hop at my side. She tells me I’ve looked for long enough.

We hear her low mourning as we pull out old fence posts in the valley, and in the purpling dusk I ride along the ridge but when I come to the clearing she’s gone. The birds have punctured his soft flesh, and his innards spill over the clay alive with flies. His face has given into gravity and is already sinking back into the earth. I go to walk away, but I turn back and take off my helmet and look at death and let it fill my nostrils. She startles me stepping out from behind a spotted gum.‘She’ll be outta sorts for a few days’, my neighbour Cliff drawls softly. Just a few days. And I’m jealous of her broken heart.

Like air raid sirens the dingos howl in the dark and by morning there is no trace of the calf.

Cliff’s bike farts slowly somewhere deep in the scrub. Five cows are walking around the paddocks with bursting udders. He’s looking for their calves. All these little deaths.

When my own father was suddenly sick, we had a week. In his last days, fighting for every breath, there was nothing to do but sit and hold hands in that place where there are no words. Since then I’ve showed up to the studio but I’ve kept the clay at arms length, too afraid of what I might find. Dead things wash up at my feet like a cursed character in a story, and everywhere I look, I see bones. I suck the marrow hard…To be vulnerable is to be alive.

Having the difficult conversations we’d rather not have, looking death square in the face, peeing in front of snakes, and making the art we’re most afraid to, isn’t comfortable, but it’s necessary.

I’ve pushed my boat a little way from the shore, and I’ll admit, even sharing remnants of my stories requires a certain amount of vulnerability, but I figure it’s only fair that I strip down if I’m going to talk about this with any authenticity. But, I don’t want to stick around on the shore, would you like to push out into the deep with me, because there are pots to make. We’ll both need our passports.From October 29 to November 11, 2017, I’m leading 12 clay enthusiasts to Gaya Ceramic Arts Centre, in Ubud, for a women’s retreat called, ‘Birthing Big Pots : Creating Big Magic’.

But this is not just any old workshop about making big pots. In the foothills of Holy Mount Agung, under the tutelage of potter and Gaya Director, Hillary Kane, we’ll take a journey inside ourselves with clay.

Over 14 days in Bali’s tropical ambient, we’ll breathe in inspiration, and with the soft clay we’ll open up to new techniques, we’ll push through comparisons, and bear down on our fears. With the assistance of some loving midwives, and embracing our vulnerability, we’ll give birth to some very BIG honest pots.

If you’re worried that this sounds like a whole bunch of touchy, feely, spiritual hooey – trust me, as well as being transformative, this is also going to be BIG FUN!

Join me next week when I talk creativity and reveal full retreat details with the wonderful and inspiring Hillary Kane!

Sign up for the newsletter here to ensure you don’t miss the workshop and accommodation details as they’re announced. And if there’s something tugging you after reading all of this, respond to it. It’s inspiration calling you to come out and play.

Listen to Dr. Brene Brown’s TED talk, ‘The Power Of Vulnerability’ here.

November 10, 2016 by Claire Atkins 3 Comments

The Secret Life of Pots

Jack Doherty is an Irish potter, based in Mousehole, a fishing village on the south western tip of Cornwall. Born into a family of fishermen, sailors and boat-builders, as a child he vividly remembers his grandmother announce to the family that he would never go to sea.

His grandmother’s words proved prophetic, and Jack became an artist – a maker of things instead. He explains that making things is equally important as catching fish in a fishing community and indeed depends on it. Some of his earliest memories are of sitting alongside his father and grandfather in the small steamy kitchen of his childhood home, knitting and mending nets, carving net needles, and weaving rough willow lobster pots by the wood fuelled stove.

Guardian Vessel

While he has been an artist for more than 40 years, despite the prophecy, the Siren continues to call his name. Looking into the surfaces of his soda-fired pots, one sees the salt etched faces of the sailors, hears the groaning hulls of the Cornish luggers, and smells the briny turning tide. In my hand, a single tea bowl contains a dark heaving ocean within its fine porcelain walls. Grouped together, his conical forms with their barnacled russet surfaces, are a fleet returning with the morning’s catch.

Conical Vessels

Recently I was fortunate to meet Jack Doherty in China at the International Ceramic Magazine Editors Association (ICMEA) symposium held in Fuping and Beijing. Jack was there as artist in residence and recipient of the 2016 Janet Mansfield Memorial Award.

I meet him early on a cold morning, with a small group of potters and ceramics magazine editors, all stamping our feet, blowing into our hands, each of us full of anticipation, willing his latest soda firing to cool (as we do!). In Fuping, we’re a long way from the coast of Cornwall, and yet the hot pots we unload in the soft rain that morning with their foaming textured surfaces of smoky grey and turquoise, speak to me strongly about place, and I feel as if I am holding a landscape, and I see my own home, with its vast interior and wild open coastline in each battle worn surface.

Guardian Vessel

Not surprisingly, Jack calls his pots ‘survivors’ and in each firing he unleashes his own kind of storm within the kiln, saying that he treats his pots badly by spraying a mix of soda and caustic water onto their porcelain bellies, and the surfaces bubble and protest amidst the flames.

Over the coming days he presents at the symposium a number of times, and during each talk I imagine a small boy and his grandfather mending nets by the warmth of the kitchen range, and I hear the pots and pans and the shipping news on the radio. Outside this safe harbour, fishermen turn their collars against the wind and wait for tides to turn. Lives are lost, wives and children are left behind, and prayers are murmured along beads and knotted twine.

The conference days are long, I’m eating way too much, not exercising, and there’s a sleepy fog rolling in – it’s the sensation of being gently rocked to sleep in an old timber boat. Jack finishes his presentation and the room exhales. The brilliant and animated Professor Brian Snapp is up next and he appeals from across the conference table, ‘No! Please don’t make me go after Jack’.

We laugh and are jolted back into the room. It’s not the long days and over eating after all. Each one of us has been cast under some kind of mariner’s spell.

Jack Doherty is interested in how we live. He considers objects from prehistory and wonders who made them, who used them, and what was their purpose in this life when each of them is made long before we discover Art or Craft?

As a contemporary artist, he says, the vessel form in particular; ‘…with its roots so deeply embedded in human interaction, is not best served by the cold remoteness of the plinth. The white cube gallery designed to create thinking space around an object can become counterproductive when the object was made to ‘talk’ to its surroundings.’

Inspired also by the ideas and spaces created by the Modernist architect Le Corbusier and Jim Ede, the creator of Kettle’s Yard, Jack decides to exhibit outside the confines of the museum and begins to use his own home as a gallery that people visit to see his work.

Family photos are taken down from the mantelpiece and are replaced with pots, who, like guardians watch over us from their new position. From Jack’s bed we’re invited to lay and watch the steely blue horizon enter through the bedroom window just above his pillow, and see it continue around the room as a single shelf of pots. In this domestic setting we experience the intimate and secret life of pots.

Although he first trained as a studio painter, for Jack, ceramics has qualities that sculpture or painting doesn’t have. We live with pots, and we understand them by holding or feeling them, we see them at different times of the day and night, in light and shadow, they surprise us and catch our eye when we don’t expect it or when we’re not really looking.

Similarly, his exhibition ‘Waypoint’ hosted by the New Craftsman Gallery last year, extends beyond the traditional gallery space to three sites in the harbour town of St Ives: in the chapels of St Nicolas and St Leonard, and a fishermen’s resting place, Rose Lodge.

According to Jack, in these spaces of rest, ritual and worship, visitors experience a range of emotions, some are surprised, even excited to happen upon the work, others are indifferent, even angry or they don’t see them at all. In this context the works themselves take on new layers of meaning; in the ancient chapel a deep vessel could become for us a baptismal font, or in the fishermen’s quarters, a bucket.

In a place of prayer a cup becomes loaded with meaning, and for the faithful they conjure up ancient scripture or a lifetime of ritual, from the very first watery submersion to the final anointing in oil, on which we pin our hopes of salvation. Communities who live by the tides and the moon are at once intimate with the ocean’s beauty and its terror, and faith is an important mooring.

Blessing Cups

Jack Doherty’s pots function on a deeply emotional level, and within these spaces his works are so fully charged with personal, spiritual, and cultural meanings that they are no longer purely utilitarian, but are powerful carriers and safe keepers of our most intimate and secret stories.

Jack Doherty’s exhibition at Dao Artspace in Xi’an is open until February 2017, and features work made during his residency at the Fuping Pottery Art Village in China.

About Jack Doherty:

Jack Doherty was born in Co Derry and studied ceramics at the Ulster College of Art and Design, Belfast. From 2008-2013 he was the first Lead Potter and Creative Director at the refurbished Leach Pottery in St Ives, Cornwall. He was Chair of the Craft Potters Association for twelve years, a founding member of Ceramic Art London and guest editor of Ceramic Review. His work is exhibited internationally and is represented in many public collections. www.dohertyporcelain.com

He is the recipient of the 2016 Janet Mansfield Memorial Award.

September 10, 2016 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

Multiply Life by the Power of Two

The ‘Power of Two’ is one of my all time favourite songs by the Indigo Girls. My sister and I would sing it together when we were younger and fantasise about driving around the country in a Volkswagon campervan being singer songwriter rockstars.

It’s a love song, but I catch myself humming it whenever I’m working alongside another artist or working on a community arts project, and if you think about it, all creative projects are labours of love, so a love song is completely appropriate. Like many potters I usually work alone in the studio, and I’m used to it, but there’s nothing better than bouncing around creative ideas with kindred spirits and running with them in full flight together.

Vicki Grima, editor of The Journal of Australian Ceramics – my new partner in crime 😉

I’ve been involved in a number of collaborative projects lately, and most recently I worked on The Australian Ceramics Open Studios on The North Coast Mud Trail. It’s a great example of what we can achieve when we set aside our massive egos (let’s not fool ourselves!), pool our resources and talents, and work together. There’s no doubt about it, we’re steadily building a clay community here on the NSW north coast, and it’s exciting to watch it grow. You might like to read arts writer, Jane Denison’s beautiful story about The Mud Trail for Verandah Magazine here, because I can’t say it any better than she has already!

30 potters shared a meal on the eve of the North Coast Mud Trail, to celebrate the community we’re creating together – on handmade plates of course!

Fabulous Jenn Johnston, awesome Mud Trail Co-ordinator and artist Emma Walke – two of my Mud Trail partners in crime

And coming up this week is the highly anticipated ‘Cup Collaboration’. It’s a massive project orchestrated by ceramic artist Adriana Christianson. The project has brought together 62 potters across the world to make cups together! Geeeeesus! I think my ideas are mad and ambitious, but Adriana’s ideas are certified CRAY CRAY! And THANK. GOD. FOR. ADRIANA. It’s precisely this sort of creative ‘craziness’ the world needs to make it liveable. She has been our a clay matchmaker, pairing us with potters that we might never have dared make pots with. If you’re in Melbourne, don’t miss the show! The 2016 Cup Collaboration is open from 12-18 September at The Box Hill Art Centre. Check out the collaborations online here.

American artist Ayumi Horie, my cup collaborating partner in crime

cup_collaboration_ayumi_horie_pinky_and_maurice_ceramics

During our cup collaboration, two unlikely friends…

cup_collaboration_pinky_and_maurice_ayumi_horie

…happened across each other’s path. Who knows what a raccoon from Maine and a wallaby from Byron Bay might be capable of together!

As I’m writing this, my kiln ‘Woody’ is cooling and I’m willing him to cool faster. As always, I’m full of anticipation to see the results, because inside are hundreds of tiny porcelain plates. However, this kiln load is extra special because the plates I’ve made are singing the supporting line, for on every surface are sweet melodies laid down by the loaded brushes of children, mums and dads, and artists who visited the studio during the Mud Trail to make their mark on clay. Our collaborations will be on exhibition from 24 September – 1 October in the Fantastic Flying Saucer Show at SugarMill Studios in Murwillumbah.

the_future_of_australian_ceramics_in_good_hands

The future of Australian ceramics is in good hands by the looks!

Collaborations aren’t always plain sailing of course! Conflicts will and do occur, and I’m the first to admit that collaborations have blown up painfully in my own face. Things don’t always go to plan; my sister and I never did become rockstars, and our first car was a second hand Toyota Camry! Despite all the things that don’t go our way when we come together in Art and love, the Indigo Girls taught me a good lesson; making rich harmonies with other humans (even if the shit hits the fan) is infinitely better than sticking to your old tired tune alone.

And sometimes the gods can’t help but smile on every aspect of your creative projects. Good luck with all your creative collaborations. Blessings from our family of potters in Ubud this year

——–

About some of the people in this post

The Indigo Girls are Emily Saliers and Amy Ray : listen to The Power of Two on youtube here : www.indigogirls.com

Vicki Grima is a ceramic artist, editor of The Journal of Australian Ceramics and executive officer of The Australian Ceramics Association: www.vickigrima.com.au : www.australianceramics.com

Adriana Christianson is a Melbourne ceramic artist, curator and creative director: www.adrianachristianson.com.au www.thecupcollaboration.bigcartel.com

Ayumi Horie is an award winning ceramic artist, and social activist based in Portland, Maine. She is also the creative director of the world renowned online community Pots in Action : www.ayumihorie.com Most recently she has launched The Democratic Cup, a collaborative project between potters and illustrators to counteract the hateful rhetoric of the 2016 U.S Presidential Election: www.thedemocraticcup.com

The Cup Collaboration opens Monday 12 September and runs until 18 September at The Box Hill Art Centre, 470 Station St, Box Hill, VIC.

The Fantastic Flying Saucer Show opens Saturday 24 September at 3pm and runs until 1 October, at Sugar Mill Studios, Shop 4, 15 Commercial Rd, Murwillumbah

August 6, 2016 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

Get dirty on the North Coast Mud Trail!

Some of the world’s most significant moments have included mud, from the creation of Adam to that famous mind altering festival at Woodstock, and although we find ourselves in an age of rapidly advancing technologies, this humble stuff continues to inspire thousands of makers who still call themselves ‘potters’.

Unearth Lauren Campbell aka ‘Sit Still Lauren’ at Studio 7 on the North Coast Mud Trail

On Saturday 20 and Sunday 21 August, hundreds of Australian ceramic artists will open their studios to share their passion and knowledge with you at the 2016 Australian Ceramics Open Studios (ACOS). Every year, studio potters from northern NSW celebrate the event on The North Coast Mud Trail.

You’re invited to step inside 19 studios across the Byron, Tweed, Ballina and Lismore Shires, from Bagotville in the south to Nunderi in the north.

Treat yourself and get dirty in a workshop, see fiery demonstrations, listen to inspiring artist’s talks, or just indulge your curiosity and see how a muddy potter lives! 😉

Check out the program below, or download an event program here and start planning your weekend on the North Coast Mud Trail! Entry is free.

July 31, 2016 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

Straylia…Unearth Your Local Potter!

On Saturday 20 and Sunday 21 August, more than 140 ceramic studios around Australia will open for the fourth annual Australian Ceramics Open Studios.

I’m opening my studio and I.CANNOT.WAIT to meet you all! I’m also SUPER excited to say that Vicki Grima is joining me in the studio to host two workshops and to present an artist talk!

In ceramic circles the world over, Vicki Grima needs no introduction, and I can see her cringe as I say this…but, she’s kind of a big deal. 😉

Vicki Grima is first and foremost an inspiring ceramic artist, and in addition to being an exceptional table tennis player, she’s also the Executive Officer of The Australian Ceramics Association (TACA), the Editor of the Journal of Australian Ceramics (JAC), and the initiator and Director of The Australian Ceramics Open Studios (ACOS)!

Vicki’s a mover and shaker, a human dynamo, a creative tour de force… I like to call her the BIG CHEESE, and the Australian ceramic community are simply quite blessed to have her as their champion. I caught up with Vicki on Friday morning as she was waiting to board a plane for Hobart to meet with the planning team for the 2018 Australian Ceramics Triennale in Tasmania … I was still in my pyjamas.

CA: Thanks so much for squeezing this chat in Vicki! Tell us, what’s a typical day like at the headquarters of Australian Ceramics?

VG: After walking my dog, a typical working day starts with a quick coffee from the local café (in one of my many handmade cups), then I settle in to dealing with many and varied emails and phone calls about everything from submitting articles, advertising, memberships and subscriptions, upcoming exhibitions, legal matters, insurance, taking payments, answering a plethora of enquiries and solving problems.

I’m lucky to work in a creative space with many other artists at Square One Studios in Alexandria, so there’s always someone interesting nearby for a chat. I also relish the times when people visit the office. I always have time for a cuppa! After work I sometimes drop by an opening of a local ceramics exhibition. Once home, evenings often involve some work on our website, our weekly newsletter or social media posts. There’s no doubt … I live ceramics!

(I can’t resist, I have to show you Vicki’s dog, not just because I’m mental about dogs, but because Bingo looks like a 1970’s rock star!)

Am I right? Or am I right?!

We’re all gearing up for the Australian Ceramics Open Studios, what is the ACOS exactly?

ACOS is a national event for Australian studio potters, ceramic artists and community groups in which they open their ceramics studios on one weekend in August.

How did it come about?

Driving back across the Hay plain after the 2012 Australian Ceramics Triennale in Adelaide, we were trying to come up with an event in which TACA members could put their liability insurance to good use, to sell their work and thereby spread the love and knowledge of handmade ceramics with the whole community. One weekend, nationwide seemed a perfectly simple idea!

What’s the best thing about the ACOS?

Every year we do a survey with our ACOS participants and overwhelmingly the best thing is the diversity of people who visit, from their next-door neighbour who had no idea potters still existed, let alone lived and worked in their street, to people who travel interstate to visit a favourite ceramicist. The potters also love feeling part of the larger national ceramics community and the enforced tidying of the studio as they prepare for the event. Studio visitors love getting their hands into the clay, watching a demo then buying a special piece to take home.We have 19 studios opening for ACOS in my stomping ground on the far north coast of NSW, and we’re excited you’re part of it! What can visitors expect from your workshop on Saturday 20 August?

Everyone will have a go at making two simple pinch pots using contrasting clay bodies – tuning in to the feel of the clay between their fingers and thumb and the spiralling action as they move their hands around the emerging bowl form. We’ll then play with impressed textures and additions to the bowl to create unique personal containers they can use (after firing) for food, flowers or whatever takes their fancy!

You’ll be visiting studios on Sunday 20 August. What are you looking forward to?

I love seeing people in their handmade studio spaces. Each is so unique and shows something of the processes they go through in making their ceramic work. It’s as if the whole person is there in right front of you – the person, their work, their space, their soul. I feel privileged to be welcomed in.

Say hi to everyone in Tassie for us Vicki, and thank you for joining us in the cyber studio!

The morning session of Vicki’s workshop, ‘Pinch Me!’ has SOLD OUT! Fear not mud slinger, there are a few places remaining in the 2-4pm session. Don’t miss out, book your spot here! Seriously. Do it right now.

You can also catch Vicki’s floor talk, ‘Hello! This is Australian Ceramics!’ at 1pm on Saturday 20 August in my studio. It’s FREE, and there’s no booking required.

And don’t forget you can decorate a handmade plate with me and be part of ‘The Fantastic Flying Saucer Project’ from 10am-4pm Saturday 20 and Sunday 21 August! There’s just sooooo much good stuff for us to do together. Click here for all the workshop and artist talk details!

Tune in for next week’s blog post when we get dirty with the ceramic artists and studio potters taking part in the Australian Ceramics Open Studios in my backyard on the ‘North Coast Mud Trail’!

April 22, 2016 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

Part II – Mai kumhari hu : I am a potter

For ten days in February 2016 I travelled through Delhi and Rajasthan to meet traditional Rajasthani potters with a small group of clay enthusiasts led by Australian potter Sandra Bowkett.

At the end of our tour, on the Yamana River between the Holy City Vrindavan and Delhi, Sandra asked me if I missed anything back home. Her words, and the adventure she led us on inspired the short story below.

‘Mai kumhari hu : I am a potter’ part II

It’s three weeks since I’ve run and I’m desperate for it like a junkie. There’s a gentle offshore blowing and Nat duck-dives under the foam for her early. It’s hot already. I crouch in the sand, my right leg behind me, I lift my chin to the sun and feel the stretch along my hamstring. I change legs.

‘Is there anything you miss?’ Sandra asks me.

Nat cuts through the morning glass and I shake my head. It’s so clean. I’ve missed this daily ritual.

I’ve only run 500 metres and already I’m telling myself that I can’t make it to Wooyung. So I focus on the sea-spray forming up ahead and the stories start to spill out.

I’m checking into a hotel with four companions. We’ve been sitting in traffic for hours and it’s past lunch time. I’ve been in Udaipur for the last week in a hotel on a lake that was once the home of the Maharana’s noblemen. Outside its whitewashed walls the town is manic with three wheeler autos and pedestrians dodging limping dogs and cows and the occasional elephant, but now I realise Udaipur is a sleepy country town. I’ve just arrived in Old Delhi, and it’s on crack. We hand over our passports.

The door chimes and a woman with silvery cropped hair and black rimmed glasses walks in off the street.

‘Sandra!’ Vicki cries out.

She’s quite tall and slight but not fragile. Her gestures are calm, and for a moment I think she’s Indian. She greets us with a warm smile, clasps her hands and tilts her head ‘Namaste’. She asks if we’ve eaten, and says she’ll take us to a good place that she’s discovered this week.

Sandra Bowkett is our guide. She’s a Victorian potter and has been collaborating with Rajasthani potters in India and Australia for more than 10 years.

The whole group exhales. I don’t want to leave her side.

‘I’ve just been to the market,’ she says reaching into plastic shopping bag, and without pretence she places a garland of golden fluffy marigolds around each of our necks. I press their softness to my face and inhale the bees wings. I bite my lip.

Sandra has magicked up our second wind, and like excited kids we check out our rooms. I’m sharing with Evie, a smiley 20 something from Glenn Innes who has just graduated from National Art School. We’re up three or four flights of stairs on the top floor. We open the bathroom door and exchange looks over our squat toilet and a shower slash bucket for bathing. But it’s clean and we think it might prepare us for something much worse later on. Outside our room is the hotel’s kitchen and a terrace that looks onto a red sandstone mosque called Jama Masjid, and flying around its 600 year old marble domes and minarets are thousands of pigeons believed to be the spirits of deceased relatives and friends.

Below me, hundreds of yellow canopies on wheels weave and honk their way around a river of bright blue tuk-tuks and timber carts hauled by ancient men. Across the street there are neatly made bed rolls waiting patiently for their owners in the shade of the mosque’s walls, while others snatch sleep stretched out between shifts on the median strip in the afternoon glare.

We make our way down onto the street and for a moment I’m in a Dickens novel, but his world is suddenly more genteel. The garbage collectors have been on strike for a week and the rubbish is putrid and close to knee deep. Above my head bunches of black electric cabling decorate the shop fronts like bunting for a festival, and buildings multiply and sprout from each other like something living.

We stop. Sandra is talking to a man baking in a tandoor out the front of his restaurant. It’s not much more than a hole in a wall, and it’s packed, but we squeeze into the last booth. Although it’s winter it’s hot in here and we switch on a small blue fan perched close to Evie’s head like a parrot. Sandra orders plates of ‘tali’ and sitting on an empty gas cylinder, she officially maps out the tour with the names of towns and potters that sound like spices. I should write them down in my notebook and commit them to memory, but our lunch arrives, and we eat plates of hot naan, potato and herb filled paratha, spicy pickles, and wet daal with our hands.

“Why do you punish yourself?”

‘Wha’?

It’s my neighbour Colleen. She smiles and shakes her snowy head at me.

‘Nice low tide for ya Claire!’ she yells and continues on her morning walk.

The hard packed sand stretches on for miles and there’s not a soul ahead. Nearly half way. It’s so hot and I take off my singlet and wrap it around my forehead.

Sweat prickles my skin and another wave of nausea hits. I bring up last night’s deep fried chicken into a Zip-Loc bag from Tasmania on the doorstep of our new hotel. It’s sunny and warm and there’s a garden and balcony. The streets are clean. It’s a well to do part of town. I keep throwing up as if it were a competition sport. I’ve made quite an entrance.

‘Where have you been staying?’ The hotel owner demands.

‘Oh…um…Jama Masjid.’ I wipe my mouth with the back of my shaking hand.

‘Why on earth would you go there? People go there and never come back alive. Come. I’ll show you to your room. Do you want the doctor?’

‘No…please just my bed.’

‘But you must take something for the infection.’

‘Infection?…No really, just something I ate..’

Sandip’s not convinced and he ushers me through the dining room and it’s homely and tastefully decorated. There’s a jar of Vegemite amongst the sauces and jams on the middle of the table.

In my room I fasten the warm Tasmanian Zip-Loc and stow it in the bin. I manage a smile. It’s a small world after all. I sleep all day and between retching I dream of sock puppets and hallucinate script ideas for a client shooting a video with a giant yellow duck next week in Sydney. There’s a wedding going on down the street and a brass marching band is going hard at it, but I can’t quite pick the tune. I drag my sorry bones into the bathroom in the greying afternoon and lift my singlet to finger my newly protruding hip bones and abdominal muscles. I haven’t seen them since my early twenties. There’s nothing left inside me. I rinse my mouth and think of Vegemite on toast. That’s a good sign surely.

In the morning there’s no call to prayer, or I sleep through it, my legs are shaky but I kneel in the early light and repack my bag. I pick up a crudely thrown terracotta chai cup that I’ve kept from a chai wallah. I feel its belly. I see its unknown maker squat before his wheel and pull up the wall of clay between his fingers. He slices its foot from the centred hump on the wheel head and places it on a board to dry with a thousand others he has already made that day. His wife prepares the clay among the chickens and children, and in the evening the kiln crackles and sparks into the darkness from their roof top. Each cup he makes will serve just one spicy tea at a road stall, and moments later it will be tossed and crushed beneath a million feet on the city street.

My head is bowed and the sand looks like a moonscape pocked with holes, and I dodge the tide as it creeps to my right. A professor of Indian art tells us about a beach in Bangal where there’s no gravel or sand but is centuries deep with potshards. The tides rise and fall and even tsunamis come and reveal still more shards. Sandra and I look at each other wide-eyed. I swaddle the little cup among my clothes and the cooking pots I’ve bought from a potter we visit in Deli. His enormous blackened kiln towers above me. My neighbour likes to call the council whenever I fire my kiln, I’d like her to check this one out for size.

I smell toast and zip my bag. Delhi has been like a family reunion, and today we leave for Rajasthan to meet more cousins.

‘What did he say?’ Vicki whispers behind me.

‘Poetical Energy’ I whisper.

He apologises again for his English. We shake our heads. I don’t want him to ever stop speaking. It’s the ceramic artist Jacques Kauffman. He speaks about the poetic energy and the dream that lies within our materials. I’m nodding. His lecture is so profound I want to yell. I can feel the towers of red matka pots, mountains of chai cups, centuries of shards, even the cow dung moves me. It’s like I’m coming out of a mist. Truth doesn’t matter. Feeling matters. Christ, I’m having an epiphany, and I sense whatever I make from now on has already been conceived in this room.

I’ve reached Wooyung and I stop and stare out at the ocean. I’m not sure why, but I cry here some mornings. Maybe Colleen is right. It crowns in my throat and I cry for the family living on the traffic island, I cry for the kids in the school room that smells like shit, I cry for the tiny girl with black kohled eyes begging me to buy her dessert and I don’t, I cry for my dead Dad, I cry for the surfer who keeps washing up at my feet. I kiss him hard full of my breath, but only the sea answers back. I cry for my sins. The ocean doesn’t give a fig and strangely this comforts me.

I retrace my dissolving tracks and Ganesh considers me from my carry-on, I look up and Haripal the potter turned engineer has disappeared. The strangeness of our meeting follows me for weeks and hangs about the studio like a spirit, yet I’m grateful for the company. New works are slowly emerging although it’s like looking into a steamy mirror, and I’m worried I might frighten the ideas away if I look at them too hard. So I work quietly alongside them; stretching, rolling and shaping the clay, and maybe this material will give up its dreams to me.

I’m sprinting now along the eastern edge of the continent and the rising sun beats up my left arm. Nat bobs out the back waiting for another set. The morning walkers are approaching, so I unwind my green make-shift turban from my forehead and cover my body. We wave as we pass each other.

My hair is wet through with sweat, lactic acid is eating up my legs, and I stink something fierce. Red faced, lungs burning, I bend and untie my hot pink laces and kick off my shoes and socks. The sand is damp and cool and I hear the slap of wet fabric on the holy steps at the waters edge and the men gather to scrub their clothes. I wade out into the foam and they disappear silently beneath the surface.

I’m on a small bus leaving the holy city of Vrindavan on the Yamana River. There’s a gentle offshore blowing. My newly adopted brother is somewhere across the sea on an oil rig. Sandra turns to me. A heavily pregnant woman swims close by naked. I want to give her some space but there’s a strong rip. It’s so clean. I shake my head. Is there anything you miss? We dive under the cresting wave. So clean.

—————————————-

If you’re interested in pottery and potters, and you’re open to unique adventure and travel that sometimes takes you out of your comfort zone, then I encourage you to travel with Sandra Bowkett in February 2017. Contact Sandra and read about her tours and ongoing collaborations with Rajasthani potters through Crosshatched 123 here

You can also see the wonderful potters of Kumhaargram in this Youtube made by Sandra here

March 1, 2016 by Claire Atkins 12 Comments

Forget passion, follow your curiosity – Conjuring Big Magic & Exploding Chickens

Last year, I was listening to Richard Fidler and author Elizabeth Gilbert on the Conversation Hour, and my ears pricked up because of how she spoke about the nature of creativity, and in particular she talked about the cultivation of curiosity rather than preach a sermon on following your dreams.

Learning to crochet granny-squares, sparked an obsession crocheting sculptures in fishing line and plastics. ‘Hatch’ by Claire Atkins

Like Gilbert, I’m not a big fan of preaching on passion, not because I’m not passionate, but because I can’t pin myself down to following just one. For years I had seen this as some kind of creative fault; I’ve never neatly fit into a box that could be named. In fact, my alter-ego Pinky & Maurice, came about precisely to give my growing obsession with clay a name. It was clear after a time I had spent away from clay – directing festivals, raising small children, and crocheting plastic fishing line – that an alter-ego obsessed with making porcelain tableware was emerging, and I wasn’t sure what to do with her at the time.

An interest in porcelain could become a full blown enquiry

‘We become what we do’. This quote is attributed to everyone from Aristotle to motivational speakers; whoever said it, I don’t find it very helpful. For example, I run. I like to run at least 8 kilometres everyday, but that doesn’t necessarily make me a runner! I don’t want to be a runner, I just like to run. ‘Life isn’t a career’, Jane Campion recently said, and I find that much more helpful.

Pottering around with timber in the shed

I love pots, and I make them most days, but I’ve also been known to become completely sidetracked and engrossed by making stuff not only in other materials, but also in entirely new fields. I’m not alone in this. Following your curiosity can open up new creative possibilities and lead you into collaborating with other curious and inspiring makers.

Tristan_Bancks_Pinky_and_Maurice_ceramics_still_life

Kid’s author Tristan Bancks in my studio directing the trailer for his book ‘ My Life & Other Exploding Chickens ‘. Cross-fertilise with other artists and in new media. It’s an INSPO BOMB!

For instance, some days I’ve found myself being a film producer, or an actor playing an evil nurse, or being the Art Department on a short film making exploding chickens with rubber gloves! Sounds strangely fun, yes? You can see the results in the silly Youtube below!

An exploding chickens creative genius! Who would have thunk it?

Life isn’t a career, and as Gilbert shares on The Conversation Hour, if we’re open to curiosity, life looks more like a scavenger hunt where we follow a series of clues that spark our interest. These clues might lead to new ideas, they might even propel us toward a passion that we never knew existed. On the other hand, curiosity might take us nowhere, and we may have nothing to show for all our efforts except exploded bits of rubber glove and chicken feathers! However, for Gilbert, devotion to inquisitiveness is a worthwhile pursuit in itself. I tend to agree, and more often than not it’s strangely fun, usually because it feels more like play than work.

You can be curious anywhere

If you’re curious about curiosity, even just a little bit, and you’re open to embarking on your own creative adventures, I recommend you listen to Richard Fidler and Elizabeth Gilbert’s conversation here, or read her latest book ‘Big Magic : Creative Living Beyond Fear‘. Who knows, there could be an evil nurse waiting inside you just busting to get out! Or maybe you’ll discover that you like making pots even though you’re a film Producer … and vice versa. 😉

You can see me as Evil Head Nurse ‘Miriam Gooch’ in the silly Youtube below. It features a wonderful cast of hilarious older folks reliving their fictional mate’s escape attempt from a nursing home! All performances are improvised, none of us actors, but all keen for creative adventure.

January 11, 2016 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

Sweet New Year Sale at Sugarmill Studio!

Helloooo! It’s a new year, and I’m trying to get excited about getting back to work after the holidays, but the weather is too good, and I’ve become obsessed with stand-up paddle-boarding and reading. Sometimes together. I’m thinking of going pro 😉

I have very limited experience as a reading-stand-up paddle-boarder. A few hours experience to be precise. So when artists like me are fantasising about making irrational career choices like this – as if being an artist isn’t silly enough – it’s a good idea to clean up and have a studio sale! Better still, get together with a couple of your artist mates, who are also fantasising new and more irrational career choices, and have a big clean up and an even bigger studio sale!

My mate children’s illustrator, Tamsin Ainslie, pondering a career in yodelling. That’s right YODELLING!

So that’s exactly what we’re doing, and you’re invited to our SUPER SWEET bigger than Ben-Hur studio sale at Tamsin’s funky new gallery, Sugarmill Studio, at 4/15 Commercial Rd, Murwillumbah, NSW. You’ll find samples, seconds, one-offs, discontinued and limited edition pieces by local artists including Olive and The Volcano Letterpress, Blu Byron, Tamsin Ainslie and Pinky and Maurice. The sale opens TOMORROW, Tuesday 12 January until Saturday 16 January! Trading hours 10am – 4pm. Enquiries call Tamsin 0408442274

Sugarmill_sale_illustrations_Tamsin Ainslie

We’ve cleared out the studio drawers and dusted off the shelves to make room for new ideas, characters and forms. Beautiful paintings and illustrations by Tamsin Ainslie.

sugarmill_studio_pinky_and_maurice_ceramics_tamsin_ainslie_illustration

Handmade porcelain by Pinky & Maurice, you’ll find seconds, samples and discontinued lines at cost price.

We are all Corals Now | Necklaces by Pinky & Maurice Contemporary Ceramics

Dreamy porcelain necklaces were $105 now $85, only 2 in stock

Our handmade porcelain spoons, were $15 now $6 each! For this week only.

sugarmill_window_illustration_tamsin_ainslie

A flying Whatsa-ma-doodle by Tamsin Ainslie

…and that’s just for starters, there’s even more craziness in store! See you this week at Sugarmill Studio!

November 19, 2015 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

All Fired Up!

I’m all fired up about the inspiring schedule Hillary Kane has created for the culinary clay workshop, ‘Food Meets Plate’, happening May 15 – 28 at Gaya Ceramic Art Centre, in Bali!

Places have been quickly snapped up by a diverse group of foodies and clay enthusiasts from around the globe. There is ONE place remaining in this workshop.

If you would like to join us, click here for workshop fees and secure your place.

Now, dear reader, get set to feast your imagination!

DAY 1 : Welcome Dinner : MOKSA restaurant

15 May 2016: Sunday evening

A sumptuous evening where we will sink our teeth into the culinary genius of Chef Madé Runatha, and the concept, framework, and assignment at hand for the next two weeks. Hillary Kane, our workshop host, will set the stage, sharing imagery and ideas to get our creative juices flowing. Chef Madé will set the menu that will keep mouths watering until the last supper…

DAY 2 : Inspiring Reference Materials : Gaya Ceramic and Design

16 May: Monday

We spend the morning touring through Gaya Ceramic and Design’s archives of over 30,000 production samples and countless trial pieces. The morning includes a special session with Michela Foppiani, Creative Director at Gaya Ceramic and Design, on selecting a look, constructing a setting, innovation and practicality.

Showcasing: Janice Wong collection, Ritz Hong Kong, and Maldives project.

Lunch and the afternoon will see us back at Gaya Ceramic Arts Centre settling in and getting hands into clay.

Demonstrations today include: basics on throwing bowls, plates and repetitive shapes.

DAY 3 : Natural Containers : Gaya Ceramic Art Centre

17 May: Tuesday

Jajan, banten, woven boxes, offering pedestals and bungkus – today we take a lead from the richness of natural disposable samples still used here in Bali, we will study a wide variety of examples, looking for design ideas and local inspiration.

Showcasing: Megumi Naitoh

Demonstrations today include: stretching textured slabs, folding and assembling slab forms and two part throwing.

Lunch at the studio, family style, catered by the incredible Dayu.

DAY 4 : Spices from the Spice Islands : Warung Mendez

18 May: Wednesday

Think Bumbu (spice pastes), iconic spice blends and individual raw ingredients. We’ll get to know the essential ulek (mortar and pestle) and burst the magical flavours from the archipelago with talented local chef Mendez.

Cooking preparation and lunch with the chef at his titular restaurant, Warung Mendez.

Demonstrations today include: double-walled bowls, throwing off the hump, fascination with faceting.

DAY 5 : Homage to the Coconut : Mary Jane Edleson

19 May: Thursday

Pulling out all the stops, long-time Bali resident, culinary curator, and extraordinary cook, Mary Edleson, will share with us about one of the three main food stays on the island, the humble coconut. From trunk to fruit, furniture to table, texture to taste buds, this will be an unforgettable tribute to this favorite of Indonesia’s food groups!

Demonstrations today : tba

DAY 6 : Sumptuous Surfaces : Gaya Ceramic Art Centre

20 May: Friday

We’ll take an early morning rice field stroll (8:15am) from the studio: for a discussion of traditional Subak culture, lore, nature, and nuance, then translated into a full spectrum study of surfaces.

Varied demonstrations: including rice hull slip, sgrafitto, carved surfaces, water etching, brush work (other wet to bone dry possibilities)

Lunch in studio, family style catered by Dayu.

DAY 7 : Just Desserts : Will Goldfarb

21 May: Saturday

We’ll spend the morning finishing pre-bisque pieces. Notes on trimming: foot, foots, no foot, feet using a variety of tools. Notes on assembling: secure slips, wrapping portions for even drying, lid fit, knobs.

Light lunch in the studio, catered by Dayu.

A talk with world renowned dessert chef about his unique choices of serving vessels for each of his equally unique creations and working out his ideas in clay. From food to plate or plate to food? Response from clientele, future ideas? Desserts in time for tea.

Bisque kiln loaded. Begin firing

DAY 8 : A DAY OF LEISURE

22 May: Sunday

Bisque kiln firing

DAY 9 : The Fabric of Glaze : Pak Cok Batik studio

23 May: Monday

Pattern, color, wax resist, layering, complexity vs simplicity – choices!

A morning visit to all natural indigo and plant dye batik studio, leading into glazing demonstrations. Tips for successful surfaces (esp. with our glazes), dipping, pouring, spraying, gradients, resists, pencils, over glaze marks, distressing surfaces, brush work, stilting, bare.

DAY 10 : Glaze Days : Gaya Ceramic Art Centre

24 May: Tuesday

All day focus on getting our pieces touched to their last perfection before sending them off to the kiln Gods.

High Fire Kiln Loaded. Begin firing

DAY 11 : A Village in Bali : Jangkahan

25 May: Wednesday

A day of cooking, culture, and collaboration, Bali-style. An opportunity to really look outside the tourist guidebook as we are welcomed to the traditional village home of Hillary’s Balinese husband. I Madé Janur Yasa’s mother and sister will guide us in the preparation and presentation of several of Bali’s celebratory and delicious dishes.

Cone 10 firing

DAY 12 : Master Chef Class : Chef Madé Runatha

26 May: Thursday

Morning cooking class of another class: Chef Madé pulls out all the stops and ushers us into his world of exquisite raw, vegan, and vegetarian that will turn even the most staunch meat-eater is his tracks!

Afternoon, unloading the kiln with baited breath. Time to take care of any post-firing attention to details needed.

DAY 13 : Manifested Meal : MOKSA

27 May: Friday

(Optional attendance to some of Ubud Food Festival’s morning and afternoon activities or free time until evening)

An evening on show: tonight is the culmination of our creative act: a public viewing and private dinner on our wares at MOKSA restaurant.

(Pre-event discussion with professional food stylist, Jacqui Hudson tbc)

DAY 14 : Concluding Discussion : Gaya Ceramic Art Centre

28 May: Saturday

Works gathered and returned to the studio by 10am.

A final group gathering to sum up the experience; packing of treasures; a last early lunch together. Finish by 12noon.

To be part of this incredible experience, click here for workshop and booking details, or contact Claire Atkins +61 0420986570 or sales@pinkyandmaurice.com

October 13, 2015 by Claire Atkins 2 Comments

Island Idyll

For centuries, islands have captured our imaginations, they are magical places inhabited by mermaids, pirates, fairies, and more recently – much to the delight of my two sons – they are the petri dish of mad geneticists and their dinosaurs!

For many years, I lived on an island north of Sydney. Island living is every bit as idyllic as you imagine. However, I discovered that it was not just the physical beauty of the island that inspired me, but equally it was the challenges we each faced, that inspired creative thinking and helped shape a diverse, vibrant, and resilient community.

Today’s post is the final in my Bali series, and I’m talking to Janet DeNeefe, long time islander, internationally renowned restaurateur, writer, festival director and, one time student of ceramics 😉

30 years ago, Janet left Australia, the world’s largest island, and fell in love with a man named Ketut. She also fell for Bali, his island home, in the magical archipelago of Indonesia.

The island has proved fertile ground for Janet’s imagination and has inspired a highly successful cooking school, restaurants, guesthouses and bars including; Casa Luna, Indus, Honeymoon Guest House, and three best selling books, Fragrant Rice, Bali.The Food of My Island Home, and To Stir With Love.

However, it was during the wake of the devastating Bali bombings that Janet was inspired to invite writers from around the globe to stare down terrorism with poetry and bring about healing to the island community. Now in its 11th year, The Ubud Writers and Readers Festival has become the largest and most prestigious literary gathering in South-East Asia.

It is with great excitement that I’m talking with Janet today, and I’m thrilled that my ‘Food Meets Plate’ workshop participants will be part of a final celebration meal in Janet’s latest project, The Ubud Food Festival!

Claire Atkins: Welcome Janet! Wow, what a story! How did you come to live in Bali?

Janet DeNeefe: I first visited Bali with my family in 1975 when I was just fifteen years old. I was overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells and I instantly felt that it was the beginning of a much bigger journey.

I returned ten years later and I never really left! My Balinese husband, Ketut and I, now have two restaurants, a guesthouse, a cooking school and, of course, the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival, Bali Emerging Writers Festival and the Ubud Food Festival. Our kids were born and raised here and Bali really is my island home.

You’ve been in Bali for 30 years now, in that time you must have seen some incredible changes on the island, can you paint us a picture of what your early years were like?

When I first arrived in Ubud, it was common to see more people, chickens and pigs on the main street than cars or motorbikes. Ubud was like an overgrown tropical jungle and afternoons were “mandi” time with peak hour river action happening up stream and down stream. Electricity was only just coming in and kerosene lamps were the main source of evening light. I have an old photo of my sister and I walking on the track just past where Indus is now and you can see how simple life was back then. And yes, the island has changed, but any dynamic, creative culture always moves with the times. Ubud has managed to retain it’s mysterious beauty and charm. Thirty years on, I’m still discovering pockets of the unexpected.

If I look back 30 years, I notice how much our approach to cooking has changed in Australia. Aussie meal times have undoubtedly benefited from immigration and the wonderful diversity it brings to communities. In what ways do you infuse your own cultural heritage with Balinese cuisine? And how has a life in Bali changed and shaped your cooking?

Food and cooking has been a part of my family for generations; my aunty Helen wrote a food column in the Sydney Morning Herald in the 70s and my Maltese grandmother had this prolific vegetable garden with everything from chickens to fruit trees. How we cook is such a reflection of who we are as a person, our cultural heritage, so of course this background has influenced my food. I cook a lot of Balinese food for the family in Melbourne or sometimes make pavlovas or roast dinners for special occasions. I add a dose of my knowledge of spices and flavours into everything I make. I add tamarind to gravy sauces and chilli and palm sugar to just about everything too. I especially love travelling across Indonesia and other parts of the world sampling new and exciting foods and then bringing back my own version to add to the menus of Indus and Casa Luna.

I remember a few years ago salivating from the couch watching Rick Stein’s ‘South East Asian Food Odyssey’, and I think he was tucking into some beautiful fragrant rice when he said that this was his idea of ‘Bali on a plate’. Is there a local dish that encapsulates Bali for you?

There’s too many to choose from! And it depends what sort of Bali we are talking about; ceremonial or home-cooking. I love Smoked Duck and the multi-levelled elegance of melt-in-your mouth duck cooked together with a serious amount of spices. I am also crazy about Jackfruit, cooked Balinese-style. To me Jackfruit curry just about embodies the character of the Balinese; the humility and down-to-earth goodness that you can’t help by love!

At the conclusion of our ceramics workshop ‘Food Meets Plate’, participants will ‘exhibit’ their ceramics in a final feast at one of Ubud’s new restaurants during the Ubud Food Festival. You also studied ceramics, in what ways do you think good ceramics can enhance a good dish?

Food has evolved so much over the past two decades – and, more than ever, presentation has become an ever-growing important part of the culinary process. I love the new irregular, zen-like pottery styles appearing in restaurants these days. They are refreshingly charming, organic-looking and modern. It reminds me of my ceramic making days when I had to battle with our lecturer because I refused to make my bowls perfect. I don’t think my grades were very good because of this whereas now it’s all the rage. These days food looks like an absolute fashion statement and fabulous plates make a huge difference.

Finally, do you have a favourite local recipe you can share with us?

PEPESAN IKAN Grilled Fish in Banana leaves

Fragrant gingers, chilli and fresh fish are wrapped together and grilled over hot, coconut coals. The result is a deliciously golden and healthy meal. Use parchment paper if banana leaves are not available and barbeque your fish or grill in the oven in the absence of hot coconut coals. This dish is absolutely drop dead delicious. I promise you will love it!

SERVES: 4 – 8

600 gms.(18oz.) fish

banana leaves

4 shredded lime leaves

salam leaves for each parcel

SPICES:

6 garlic

3 shallots

2 tomatoes

1tsp sea salt

3 candlenut

2 stalks of lemongrass

1/4 tsp shrimp paste

1 tsp coriander seeds

2 tsp tamarind

3 large red chilli

2-4 small chilli

3 tbs fresh galangal

1 tbs fresh turmeric 2 tsp ginger

3 tsp palm sugar

3 tbs oil

Grind the spices with some water if necessary in a mortar and pestle or blend in the container of a food processor until you have a fragrant, golden yellow paste, flecked with chilli and tomato skin. Chop the fish into fat chunks, roughly 4cm x 4cm or leave whole if you prefer. Shred the lime leaves. Mix thoroughly with the spice paste, oil and fish. Cut the banana leaves into rectangles roughly the size of a standard envelope. Wrap the fish in one or two layers of banana leaves, with a salam leaf underneath. Roll over and secure the ends with a toothpick or tie with string. Grill, steam or barbecue the fish for five minutes or until cooked. Serve with steamed rice and kangkung pelecing.

Thank you for sharing your inspiring, mouth-watering story with us today Janet!

I hope this blog series from Bali has left you feeling inspired to embark on new creative adventures.

I’m thrilled to say that our workshop, ‘Food Meets Plate’ at Gaya Ceramic Arts Centre in May 2016 is almost full! There are places still available, and I would love you to join us. Click the link and head over to the workshop page now for full details and exclusive Early Bird specials when you book through me.