Gaya Ceramic Arts Centre Archives

December 22, 2016 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

Big Pots, Big Magic

I’ve been reading Tim Winton’s latest collection of short stories, ‘The Boy Behind the Curtain’, and apart from the odd paper cut, the life of a novelist appears to be a relatively safe one. However, for Winton, growing up the son of a cop, life has been shaped by havoc and uncertainty. Safety, he says, is a great gift ‘but to be afraid is to be awake’. And while these days he doesn’t go looking for trouble, he feels that he and his father’s careers have depended on accidents and risk, ‘…without strife the cop and the novelist have nothing to work with.’

We can play it safe and write stories or make pots each year by pulling out the same old tricks, but if we want to grow as artists, confronting a certain amount of ‘strife’ and uncertainty in the studio is required.

Last week on the blog I was sharing Dr. Brene Brown’s thoughts on the subject. Brene Brown has spent a large part of her career studying courage, and for her, an artist’s failure to embrace uncertainty and vulnerability is death for creativity.

In other words, artists need to get a little shit scared!

Next year, from October 29 – November 11, I’m taking a group of women to Gaya Ceramic Arts Centre in Bali, for the workshop/retreat ‘Birthing Big Pots: Creating Big Magic’.

And today is the BIG reveal. Let me introduce Hillary Kane, woodfiring potter, Director of Gaya Ceramic and Arts Centre, and fortunately for us – our workshop/retreat host. Together we’re going to make some BIG POTS in 2017, and today we’re chatting about our juicy BIG retreat, the power of play, and the benefits of embracing uncertainty.

Feeling nervous? Then this one’s for you.

Hillary Kane

Claire Atkins: Thanks for joining me here again in the cyber studio Hillary!

Firstly, I’m hugely excited about the workshop in 2017, and it’s inspired me to think and write about how our ideas evolve and how we grow as artists. Recently, I was sharing about Shaun Tan’s thoughts on creative process, and he says it’s important for artists to keep their creative soil well fertilised and tilled. I know that horticultural imagery resonates with you, how do you keep your artist well watered and happy?

Hillary Kane: I find it amazing how little time I take to just play in clay—and yet this is the advice I would give to absolutely every artist as the ‘fertiliser’ (organic of course) for their flowers of creativity.

By Play, I mean setting aside a good chunk of hours to work with clay—throwing, hand building, mushing and mashing—with absolutely no intention: no product in mind, no judgement of what arises—even if that is nothing beyond the tactile fertility offer by the medium itself. In some ways play requires a sort of discipline—because we are all so programmed to aim toward a result and to understand productivity as something that results in a product. I look back and recall the best moments of breakthrough—the greatest fruits of creativity that I kept pursuing for years and years afterward—came out of those few pleasurable moments of real true clay play.

CA: Do you get artists block? How can we overcome our creative fears?

HK: Again, this is something we are all rather too conditioned to—and that’s why it rings everyone’s bell. For me it is this Samsaric reminder—that at moments, all those things I thought I had outgrown (like being afraid to try a new form, or go bigger, or venture in a totally new direction), come right ‘round to haunt me again.

From the outset, I think we need to remember that the very act of creating means bringing forth something completely and totally new—and that that at its very essence, means diving off into the unknown. Thus, fear is intimately tied to this free fall. Perhaps it is time to turn the feeling of fear into that of exhilaration. The ‘unbearable lightness of being’ embodied within the heaviness of an inert ball of damp earth.

One simple activity I employ to get myself out of the mind frenzy and back into the medium is to very simply throw—one single 1lb. ball of clay after the next, after the next. Same uncomplicated form over and over—a bowl or a cup— until the rhythm of muscle memory takes over and the racing thoughts relax a notch. Set those humble vessels all out on a ware board, and then mush them all up– or wire each off the wheel and throw it directly into your reclaim bin—or at the wall.

The bottom line is to not think about clay, rather to get your hands in it. Then all the tactile magic of the medium will work on re-grounding all the performance anxieties and you’ll realise the reason you got yourself into this practice in first place (and in the last place): because it just plain feels good.

CA: Dr Brene Brown says vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation and creativity – how do you think being vulnerable helps us produce authentic work as artists?

HK: Absolutely. And clay embodies everything that engenders vulnerability in an artist: it cracks, it warps, it dries too fast, it doesn’t stick together, it has a memory of what it was before you came around, it reacts to the weather, it reacts to your emotional stability, it reflects you, it demands of you, and then…. it has to be fired.

Without question, firing is the absolute when it comes to letting go and accepting vulnerability as your stance in life–especially when you happen to be as addicted to anagama firing as I am. Spend months toiling on a body of work that reaches many hundreds in numbers, another three days balancing with exquisite care each of those pieces in a patchwork puzzle within the kiln—and then introduce all the eggs in the nest to the most voracious, ferocious, and consuming fiery blaze before daring to peer once again in at them—this is vulnerability.

Every anagama firing, at some point, brings me to my knees. I have realised that that is precisely why I keep coming back for more. It’s not masochism—it’s the comfort of being humbled again and again. To know that the learning has really just begun–my life’s work is still before me–and that in that space of uncertainty and unknowing, can arise the most profound and authentic talisman of who I am as an artist.

CA: You’re a multi talented artist, but what is it that clay holds for you?

HK: Tactility, grounding, fire, humility—about in that order too. I do still consider myself a painter—as well as one who gets her hands into everything from Batik to architectural design—but even my paintings have moved toward my clay practice, as I now employ a raw paper-clay ‘primer’ thickly onto my canvases, and then enjoy watching the craquelé surface naturally appear as the clay component dries and shrinks. I guess there is something about Time and timing, spontaneity, as well as the touch-ability of clay that I can’t get enough of.

CA: Now, tell me about Birthing Big Pots! How will we spend our days?

This is a very special workshop in that I am viewing it as more of a retreat—and by that I mean an experience that goes well beyond working with clay in the studio. Many of the workshops that I am instructing, I do try to engage the participants to think wider and deeper into their intentions than just the skill-building and technical aspects of the experience—but for Birthing Big Pots, that focus will be all the more apparent. We will be digging deep—introspecting individually and as a group—plying the metaphor of creating a vessel and all that that creative journey implies. Via daily led-meditations, yoga, journaling, discussions, speaking circles, and the like, we will look way outside and way inside our studio practice to the essence of what it means to be creative, to harness the daring for creativity, to bring something to life. Get ready for some amazing transformation, ladies: this is going to ask a lot of you and give you so much in return! (Plus some enormous pots to bring back in your hand luggage☺)

CA: In many cultures, making pots is men’s business, and in the Australian ceramics community making big pots is often associated with big blokes! Neither of us are particularly physically big, how are we going to do that? Do you need to be physically strong to make big pots?

HK: The nexus of this workshop came from a long-contemplated idea that it would be a really amazing experience to explore the fallacy of the Only Big Men Make Big Pots mentality. In the ceramic world—art world—world, there are of course so many instances of masculine, ego-driven dominance and centre stage.

Sure, physical size and weight can be of assistance when throwing around a huge mass of incredibly heavy, water-laden earth—but so can technique. And that’s the point. There can be many approaches to solving any problem or intention out there—solutions beneficial for everyone—not just women. But in this workshop, I hope to share several of those techniques that will enable women of any stature (and even any level of ceramic experience) to approach making vessels as big as they might dream.

Perhaps it is not incidental that a real pivotal moment in my life—one that turned me toward clay as an essential ingredient to live by– was when I watched a tiny, old woman, as ancient and wrinkled as time itself, in the remote north of Cameroon, patiently, simply pinching an enormous water jar—no tools, no wheels, no awareness of any limitation.

CA: My sons wanted to ask you this next question. Why women only?

HK: This is not about exclusivity—rather empowerment. Let’s just say that sometimes empowerment comes from removing a variable (this time being that of gender), creating a safe space in which to explore, nurturing a sense of belonging. An all-women’s group encourages each woman to be able to be herself supported by a circle of sisters, hopefully finding deep strength there to carry forth back into the world of men. These gatherings are so important to initiate.

CA: Finally, what basic clay skills do we need to participate in this workshop? Who should come?

HK: Although I am very deliberately not going to limit this workshop to only those who already have decent throwing skills, it may be beneficial to have sat at a wheel before. However, that said, you could come at this completely green and still potentially gain heaps technically, emotionally, transformatively…

…Ahhhh. Dear reader, are you inspired muchly? I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be shit scared with than Hillary Kane!

Are you in? You a bit shit scared? Let’s dare greatly, and suck the marrow out of this old life together.

Hit the link here for workshop details, accommodation and exclusive Early Bird rates when you book through me to create BIG POT MAGIC in Bali in 2017!

xClaire aka 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.

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.

September 29, 2015 by Claire Atkins Leave a Comment

An Art Villa in Ubud

I’m leading a group to Ubud in May 2016, for the clay-bending-mouth-watering workshop, ‘Food Meets Plate’ at Gaya Ceramic Art Centre. This month we’re meeting some of the inspiring artists whose knowledge and vision will turn our time in Bali from a trip into a transformative experience.

Last week I spoke to our workshop host Hillary Kane, and if you’re just joining us, catch up on our conversation Creative Callings.

This week we’re checking out the workshop accommodation, at the inspiring, art-filled guest house ‘Ubud ArtVilla‘, owned by Australian ceramic artist Bruce McWhinney.

Ubud ArtVilla at night

Bruce McWhinney is an Australian artist with over 30 years experience in ceramics. Nature and travel have been the main inspiration for his work; be it wood fired ceramics, sculpture, painting or drawing.

I met Bruce about 15 years ago when I was a student at Brookvale TAFE, where Bruce and a group of exceptional designers and potters were building a dynamic ceramics department on Sydney’s Northern Beaches. Brookvale TAFE continues to thrive, and while Bruce is as passionate as ever about Australian Arts education, his vision now incorporates a much wider classroom that includes building creative communities in other parts of the world…and Bruce is literally building them.

Stunning garden design links sculptures and architecture throughout the villa

One such project is Ubud ArtVilla, a unique guesthouse in the quiet hamlet of Penestanan, just minutes from the bustling town of Ubud.

Here the concept is to infuse hospitality with Bruce’s long time love for Balinese arts and culture. In this place each day, guests soak up stunning architectural design, idyllic gardens, wood fired ceramics, paintings, drawings, and sculptures at every turn.

ArtVilla is managed and operated by Wayan Suparta and his family, who bring local knowledge and Balinese custom to every moment, enabling guests to discover the real traditions and culture of Bali during their stay. ArtVilla is the perfect place for anyone who is seeking to revitalise or woo their inner artist, and for two weeks in May 2016, Ubud ArtVilla will be home-sweet-home for ‘Food Meets Plate’ workshop participants.

Ubud ArtVilla’s lap pool looks out to Mt Agung

Claire Atkins: Hi Bruce! I had the pleasure of staying at Ubud ArtVilla last year while I attended a workshop at Gaya. I have to say, that living with and using your woodfired ceramics every day was one of the best parts about staying at ArtVilla. Each morning, breakfast was served on stunning ceramic pieces that quietly called for our consideration. Do you think that living with handmade ceramics affects us?

Bruce McWhinney: Woodfired ceramics for me is the ultimate expression of working with clay and fire. The spontaneous effects coming from the fire on each piece is quite individual and embue the work with a human warmth that makes using it a daily joy. What I love most is that I never tire of the work and it keeps me captivated by the evidence of nature.

Bruce McWhinney ceramics

Can you describe your design process, and is your approach different when you’re making ceramic pieces intended for food?

Making tableware is very much about understanding the function of each piece. One can only be a good functional potter if they use their work and learn what makes it a pleasure to use and live with. After decades of making ceramics, my forms have been pared right back to the simplest possible. This allows space for the fire to complete the piece and also gives a calm reassuring presence about them. Teapots must pour, cups must be easy to hold with a lip that feels good up against one’s mouth, and plates should provide a smooth finish. Having said that, while I strive to give the most, it often takes time to appreciate what is there in each piece. But so it is in life and art.

Traditional ‘Bali kopi’ served in Bruce’s woodfired ceramics, is a daily ritual at Ubud ArtVilla

You divide your year working and living in Australia and Bali, with residencies throughout the world thrown in! How has travel, and living so intimately with the Balinese impacted your own art practice?

This is a big question. Bali has provided a cultural retreat where I can make work and share it with people from all around the world. My aim in building the ArtVilla was to create a place where people could experience living with hand made things and discover the joys of using wood-fired ceramics. Bali has taught me patience, detachment and to see the funny side of life. Things do not always go according to plan but the caring nature of the Balinese makes it all worthwhile. Travel is a passion but being able to work in different places makes it immensely more rewarding. When doing residencies one is privileged to experience life as an insider. I get to know people over a longer period, and hopefully share our different experiences of the world. Sightseeing is fun but it doesn’t sustain me in the same way.

Bruce in the studio

What do you hope your guests will experience at Ubud Art Villa?

What I would hope for is that people coming to ArtVilla would experience Bali from the inside. Connecting to the culture and traditions of Bali is made easy through Wayan and his family who staff ArtVilla. Combine that with the joy of making pots at Gaya, and discovering the local food and gastronomy would be a great thing. But, staying at ArtVilla would also mean extending the experience by using, learning about, and living with woodfired ceramics every day.

Thank you so much for joining us Bruce.

So, what do you think?! Will you join us? Visit the workshop page now for Early Bird fees, Ubud ArtVilla accommodation, and booking details. Private room options at ArtVilla and Art Manor are limited, so please don’t delay in contacting me to secure your place as bookings are rolling in!

Be sure to join me next week when I’m talking food and Bali with the indefatigable Janet De Neefe! Janet is the founder and Director of the Ubud Food Festival, the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, she’s also an author, a mother of four children, aaaand the owner of some of Ubud’s best restaurants and bars!