Taos, Arroyo Seco, and the Fifth Brain

Last weekend, a friend and I made the beautiful drive from Albuquerque to Taos, New Mexico to see a Rebecca James show at the Harwood Museum and have a little fun. Taos is a special place, not because of the exotic romance associated with New Mexico or the West in general, but because of the way it (at the risk of sounding like a crystal cruncher)… feels…. From somewhere within the complex tapestry that is Taos — the rich history of Hispanic and Native American cultures, historical architecture, amazing Taos Mountain, Rio Hondo & Rio Grande rivers, wild places and pueblos — there’s a sense of light and presence and palpable residue from the artists, writers, Natives, farmers, Hippies, ranchers and counter-culturists who have visited and called Taos home for hundreds of years. It’s laid back and small town, rural and centered around the land and particular energy of northern New Mexico. Here, I’ll stop trying to describe with words what is best experienced; for me, Taos is a thing of the heart, a thing that feels honest and like home.

Moonstrance by Victor Goler, Taos, NM

Incidentally, I recently learned that the heart, with its 40,000 neurons, is now considered to be the “fifth brain”. It is connected to the brain neurologically, biochemically, and biophysically.  There is now solid scientific evicence of what poets, mystics, and ancient traditions of every culture have always asserted: the heart, not the brain, is the center of our being; it is capable of “knowing” on an emotional and intuitive level of its own. (It’s no wonder that hearts of all manner — flaming, stabbed, thorn-covered and weeping – have always been such prominent symbols in the Santero carvings and folk art of New Mexico.) How exciting is that?!

I’ll leave the heart research to you; for now, here is a slide show of images of Taos & Arroyo Seco, followed by a info on Arroyo Seco. I’ll let the images speak for themselves, except to say that they include the perfectly unglamorous El Pueblo Lodge (read the full liveclay review here), The Harwood Museum, Taos Inn (oldest bar in town), Weaving Southwest, Michael’s Kitchen, World Cup Coffee (my new favorite coffee place, just off the plaza), Taos Cow (great outdoor seating by the creek), Rottenstone Pottery, one super-secret waterfall, and, of course The Landscape.

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Arroyo Seco (Spanish for dry creek, or wash) is 15 minutes north of Taos on SR 150. This area of northern New Mexico is home to an amazing number of clay artists, potteries, and a variety of outdoor kilns, including wood and soda.

My favorite clay gallery in Arroyo Seco is Rottenstone Pottery, run by Scott Rutherford. It’s right on the main street, across from Taos Cow ice cream and deli, and Abe’s Cantina & Grocery. (So, within that fortuitous little triangle is perhaps everything a visitor to Arroyo Seco might need.)

Scott makes beautiful work in the Japanese oribe style, as well as really cool boats, both historical and imagined, that are also functional. For example, the Tequila Tug, Japanese Freighter Sushi Service, USS Texas Barbeque Battleship or the USS Intrepid Hors d’oeurves Carrier are beautiful sculptures that can also be put to use at a dinner party.

Japanese Freighter Sushi Service Set

Rottenstone is packed with gorgeous woodfired pottery by Scott, John Bradford, and others, ranging from the smallest tea bowl to large sculptures and paintings. Scott hasn’t yet assembled a web site for Rottenstone, so it’s best to find the particulars of hours and inventory on his Facebook page.

Always the gracious tour guide, Scott also pointed us in the direction of an amazing series of small waterfalls at a nearby, undisclosed location. If you’re in the area and want to see them you’ll have to visit Scott and ask for directions, which he may or may not give. (Perhaps buying a lovely piece of pottery will tip the scales in your direction.)

Hope you have enjoyed this little tour into a special place, known best, like most things, with the heart.

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Live Clam

In 2001, I took a fortuitous detour into the urn business. One of my lidded vases was juried into the first Ashes to Art® exhibition organized by Funeria in San Francisco that year, and I was later invited to be one of Funeria’s Portfolio Artists. We’ve had a wonderful relationship ever since. Why not be in the urn business, I thought, it’s likely to be a steady market, as people tend to die.

In 2005, I started Live Clay, LLC to accommodate a large wholesale order I had just received through Funeria. Although I knew nothing about operating a small business or mid-scale ceramics production, I jumped at the opportunity. I started collecting other artists to help me with production and advise me on numbery things because I really can’t stand accounting. I thought “Live Clay” a particularly clever and fitting name for an urn company, conjuring wild philosophical deliberations about life and death, symbolic representation, is it “live” or “live”, and other heady critique usually reserved for only the most fine of fine art. Let alone urns.

Somehow, however, the State of New Mexico recorded my exceedingly relevant business name as Live Clam, which I like even better. I could’ve thought all day and not come up with that. I briefly considered changing everything to Live Clam, but ultimately the prospect of being inundated with requests for seafood squelched that idea.

Although professional Urnmaker had never been among my anticipated career choices, it is a special privilege to create art for this purpose, particularly in a market dominated by mediocre, impersonal, NOT fair trade, over-priced schlock. (Just google “urns” and see for yourself.) As with all art, a special connection is forged between the artist and the client; but when I make art for this particular purpose, I believe it also connects me with loved ones (human and animal) no longer present. Even if I never meet the living client, I create each urn with intention, respect for the departed, and blessings.

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What’s Raku?

I get asked that a lot, “What’s raku?” Most people outside of clay artists or collectors have never heard of Raku, or have a very vague understanding of what, exactly, it is.

Raku ware was first developed in Japan over 400 years ago and was favored by the Zen Buddhist Monks. It was preferred by the Masters because of its
humility, tasteful unpretentiousness, simple naturalness, and its deliberate avoidance of luxury; all very important to the Zen philosophy. It is believed that Raku was first developed by Chojiro, founder of the first generation of the Raku dynasty, in the 16th century. It is believed that Chojiro’s tea bowls were brought to the attention of the Emperor Hideyoshi, who was very impressed with the unpretentious and aesthetically pleasing wares. As a result, the Emperor bestowed, in memory of Chojiro, a gold seal that bore the emblem symbolizing “Raku” on Chojiro’s son, Jokei.

The word “Raku” comes from the ideograph engraved on that gold seal. “Raku” when freely and loosely translated can mean joy, enjoyment, pleasure, comfort, happiness, or contentment. The word “Raku” thereby became Chojiro’s family name/title.

The raku firing method utilizes a rapid rise in temperature in a fuel-fired kiln, combining the elements of earth, air, fire, and sometimes water for stunning, one-of-a-kind results. I was drawn to raku immediately because of the unpredictability of working with fire and the uniqueness of each piece. Because I grew tired of the raku glazes I had access to, I began experimenting with colors, which soon became paintings. The result — the merging of the raku firing technique with painted surfaces — is my own distinct art form rooted in ancient tradition but with contemporary appeal. Here is a photo tour of my process:

I start by throwing each piece on a potter's wheel. When it is leather-hard, I trim a foot into the bottom and let it dry for a few days.

I draw the design, usually a landscape or botanical image, on the dry piece with pencil. Sometimes I use photo references, especially for commissions, but typically I work from memory.

Then I start painting with underglaze (liquid, tinted clay). The finished painting looks much darker than it does at this stage, so I estimate what the colors will look like as I go.

The painting is finished.

The painted vase is then bisque fired to about 1900 degrees in an electric kiln. As you can see, the colors are darker already.

The bisqued piece is glazed with a clear crackle glaze and fired in this raku kiln located at my good friend Ben's studio.

Here is the kiln in mid-fire with Ben. He's my model for this.

The temperature is gauged by sight and by 07 cones. This cone is melting which means the kiln has reached temperature (about 1835 degrees) and the firing is complete.

When the glaze is mature, after it's bubbled and laid down again, the glowing pot is taken out of the kiln with tongs and placed in a trash can with saw dust. (Notice how Ben's glowing to... that kiln is hot!)

The flaming trash can is covered to create a reduction (oxygen-deprived) environment. The smoke and fire cause the unglazed parts of the vase to turn matte black. The pot is left in the can to cool for at least 25 minutes.

The cooled, fired piece inside the can.

This is what the fired piece looks before it's cleaned. The carbon on the surface is washed off with soap and water or a scrubbing device if it's really dark.

And here is the cleaned, finished piece! Thanks for touring.

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