A NOTE ABOUT ATTRACTIVE CURVES

There are several lust-objects in my world, too numerous to mention. Tea-dust glaze, grey salt, and mustard yellow. As well as something in a blue twixt teal and sky. Don't know what you would call it. Classic shapes of course, with pleasing curves. I prize my modest collection of porcelains.

I suspect that living in Holland and developing a fondness for seventeenth century interiors, as shown in paintings from the golden age, may have had something to do with it. As well as my mother's impressive collection of Bohemian Crystal, decorative overglaze peacock plates, and the lovely objects on the tea-trolley in the dining room.

[We called it the dining room, but we never ate there. It was where my brother kept his vast library of chess-books, and spent hours studying the games of the masters.
We never thought of changing the name.]


There are porcelains atop every book case in the apartment, except for where I keep the Cornell & Diehl tobaccos, matured flakes, and Mac Baren's HH Vintage Syrian. Very much like a merchant mansion in Amsterdam. Unfortunately it is a much smaller place, the ceilings aren't as high, and the light does not stream in from a bustling streetscape with a servant busily shooing off the scallywags.

As a peculiar obsession, it was fairly late in coming. I was an adult living in Berkeley when the first pangs made themselves felt. It has endured for several years, over half my life.
The fetish for crackly glazes is well-represented, as is the fondness for purple-sand earthenware teapots. Hardly any blue-and-white, as Ming Dynasty vases are quite beyond my reach.
Plenty of old American greens.

Copper glazes, oil-spot, streaky oxides precipitating on the outer skin, furry speckles, iron suspensions, and areas where flame played over surfaces.


There are two pieces made by Jade Snow Wong, who was my mother's classmate at Mills College. They were among the last pieces of pottery she produced, as at the end of her life she devoted her firing-time to enameled copper. They are difficult to describe, but represent the culmination of her aesthetic sensibilities. Beautiful, though in a quiet sort of way.
Like many objects, they are mood enhancers, but more so than most.
I wish I had had the opportunity to acquire more of her stuff.
But she was already retired when I knew her.
These two are it.

Hsin-chuen Lin, Dick Lumaghi, and Ross Spangler are present in the apartment, as well as examples of Celadon made by various artists.
Sometimes, in the quiet after dark, I hear a 'ping' sound as a new crackle develops. Especially when a hot day turns into a cold night; the glaze and the body cool down at different rates.


As with calligraphy, edges must be tense, taught, vibrant. There should be strength in each curve, no limpness or flab. A line should be firm like iron, not wobbly like jelly. The intent must be matched by the execution, otherwise it is worthless.
Glazes may be variable; that's where accident can be fortuitous.
But if the form is not clean, what was the point?



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