Everyday Artist / Photographer's eye informs sensuous ceramics

Where we begin often isn't where we end up. Over the course of the last year, Everyday Artist, a feature original to BoHo Home, has shared the journeys of a dancer, a painter, an art therapist and educator, and a print-maker—all who found their way to working in clay. Add to that list "photographer," as today we chat with ceramicist Sandi Fellman and see the beautifully nuanced pottery made in the images she wants to see, including the wondrous eye-like vessel pictured above.

Describe the art form(s) you work in and the art you produce.

I make one-of-a-kind stoneware and porcelain vessels. Most recently I've been exploring a gold glaze and multiple sprayed applications of under-glaze.

Fellman used gold glaze and multiple sprayed applications of under-glaze on this bowl to achieve its interesting color variations. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I've also decorated in terra sigillata. Roughly translated that means “sealed earth,” and it has its origins in the black decoration on ancient Greek pots.

When a big batch of clay is made, terra sigillata is the silt that rises to the top—the finest particles, finer than slip and silky smooth, sort of like softened cream cheese. It would take thousands of pounds of clay to make it naturally, and these days a formula is used. I apply it with a brush, and seeing other people work with it is what drew me to it. There’s something about it before it’s fired; it’s so matte and luminous even before it dries.

Variations of white stoneware vases Fellman banded in terra sigillata. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I also have an established career as a fine art and commercial photographer. My fine art photography is housed in private collections, as well as at the Museum of Modern Art, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, La Bibliothèque Nationale, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Commercial clients have included Bill Blass, Saks Fifth Avenue, Clinique, Charlotte Moss, and many others.

Fine art insect photos from the series "Sometimes With Shadows." (Sandi Fellman photos)

How did you get started on a career in the fine arts?

My parents first carted me off to drawing classes when I was four. Though I grew up in a family of doctors and lawyers, I declared myself an art major early on at the University of Wisconsin. I was on a waiting list to take photography because there was only one, very sought-after instructor, Cavalliere Ketchum. I finally got to take a class with him my junior or senior year, fell in love with the immediacy of the art, and eventually earned an MFA in it.

From The Japanese Tattoo (Sandi Fellman photos)

Work for my graduate degree included a documentary series of photographs of prostitutes working at the Mustang Ranch in Reno, NV. I was also privileged to use a large-format Polaroid camera to explore the Irezumi tradition of Japan. These photos were published in the book The Japanese Tattoo, which is still in print.

Fellman digitally alterated the tongue of her pomeranian, Smudge, in this  photo that appears on her website next to a commercial photo she took of lipstick. Smudge also has his own Instagram account, maintained by Sandi's husband. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I also taught photography for 10 years, the last five at Rutgers University, which culminated in tenure. While teaching I had my first one-person show in New York and was approached by an agent. I ended up doing a job for Danskin that was a springboard into another area of adventure.

I resigned my teaching job the next year to pursue commercial photography full-time, inspired by the photographer Duane Michals who said, “Trust that little voice in your head that says, Wouldn't it be interesting if... And then do it.” So I did.

Fellman took the orchid (left) and magnolia (right) photos in the 1990s. (Sandi Fellman photos)

As I think back about why I followed the path I did,  I liked the idea that making art is the only area of study where there is no prescribed answer. Students today really have no idea what photography was like before the digital age and on-screen editing; the experience of watching your photos emerge in the darkroom was sensual and exciting. In pottery, I make something from nothing, and that returns to me that initial sense of wonder.


When did you start making ceramics?

I took my first ceramics class at Greenwich House Pottery in New York City five years ago on a whim. I like to say, “I drank the Kool-Aid,” which means I fell in love with the clay, the mess, the quite literal hands-on of the process. In many ways, for me, it is photography’s opposite, particularly in the digital age.

Fellman's bowl, ”Gold Sky with Thundercloud,” (above) received an honorable mention at the Tokyo-New York City Ceramic Exhibition at the Nippon Gallery, New York, last year. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I didn’t intend ever to be serious about the pottery part of my life—one medium seemed like plenty—but now I find myself having just launched my ceramics website. Two stores in New York also sell my work, and I had my first one-person show of my pottery at a Los Angeles gallery in 2015. More recently, I received the Director's Choice Award at Greenwich House's "Those Who Make" show.

Through Aug. 5 of this year, my photographs and ceramics are being shown combined in an exhibit at KMR Arts in Connecticut, entitled "Back to Black." It's the third exhibition of my photographs at KMR but the first to feature them alongside my ceramics and suggest a discourse between the two art forms.

Fellman collaborated with ceramicist Jessie Lazar on these pitchers. They're signed, along with other pieces the two have done together, "Fans of Dave," which refers to one of their teachers at Greenwich House Pottery. (Sandi Fellman photo)

How has your experience as a photographer influenced your ceramics?

The more I pursue ceramics, the more I appreciate how much my photography informs it. Simplicity of form and palette rule my creative process, regardless of which art form I’m working in. The clay spinning on the wheel is not only meditative, but it reminds me of the blurry fashion photographs I was so honored to make for Josie Natori, Chado Ralph Rucci, Bill Blass and creative director Russ Hardin.

Above, Fellman at work on the pottery wheel at Greenwich House Pottery, which, she says, reminds her of the blurry fashion photographs she was known for. One of those, taken for Chado Ralph Rucci (now Ralph Rucci), appears below.

(Sandi Fellman photo)

I think it's the film maker Lawrence Kasdan who says he makes the films he wants to see. I have always made the images I want to see by pursuing my own quirky curiosity. And now, with my ceramics, the measure is: Do I want that? Would I use this? And ultimately: Would it look well in my home?

Whereas it’s always a thrill to be in a cab going up Sixth Avenue and see one of my photos in mammoth scale on the side of a building, I find it visceral and intuitive, as well as refreshing, to now make things that are both beautiful and functional. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be an artist and to have spent my adult life pursuing my passions. It’s been quite a ride!

While moving out of her photography studio, Fellman pinched a nerve in her neck and temporarily lost the use of her dominant arm and hand. A series of quirky pots, which these two are part of, came about because she had to work differently. "I still do some assymmetrical stuff, but I didn't have a choice in that moment," she says. (Sandi Fellman photo) 

Tell me more about your “quirky curiosity” and where it’s taken you.

I started doing photography in the early 1970s when the women’s movement was taking off fast and furious. I got a job as a cocktail waitress at Diamond Don’s, a topless/bottomless bar, because I was curious what went on there. Even though I wore clothes for my job, I observed very quickly that the women performers were in charge, and the guys throwing money at them seemed like dopes.

Fellman (left) with famed photographer Ansel Adams at a workshop in California in the 1970s.

I wondered if there was a more extreme version of this and eventually read about Mustang Ranch, which was, at the time, the world’s largest legalized bordello. I wrote the owner a letter to see if I could visit and take photos.

He never wrote back, so a friend and I just drove out there one summer and knocked on his door. He remembered my letter and said If I came during off hours, established my own relationship with the women, and stayed out of the way of the customers, I could come and go as I pleased. So I made friends with the women and took my photographs.

Fellman shapes a large vase on the wheel at Greenwich House Pottery, New York City.

Describe your art-making routine, along with your studio or workshop.

My photo studio for 35 years was three blocks away from my home until I got evicted so a store could move in. Now I do that part of my work on the top floor of my loft, where there’s a wall of windows and a skylight. I’ve pared down my equipment a lot, and it’s all super neat and tidy. But then I go to Greenwich House and make a GIANT mess at least three days a week with my ceramics. I prefer the marathon approach to both art forms. I really need to immerse myself in what I’m doing.

In a more recent exploration of assymetry, Fellman created this bowl, which she says resembles her crooked bones, as a gift for her doctor. (Sandi Fellman photo)

How is making ceramics similar to and different from making photos?

The thing about photography that drew me in so many years ago was its immediacy: Magic! When I started doing color work, it was continuously sponsored by the Polaroid Corp., which allowed me use of its large-format camera. So I became a real addict for immediacy. I had no patience and no darkroom at home.

Throwing clay on the wheel has a piece of that immediacy, but it has also taught me tremendous patience. I’m usually not going to get to the final look of a piece for weeks.

Fellman was commissioned to create this group of vessels and is cleaning the insides with a finishing sponge before adding further embellishment.

Working in a communal studio has its pros and cons as well. I learn from my colleagues every day, but sometimes I wish I could throw at 2 a.m. in my pajamas, all alone in my own private space, with my music blasting. But that’s the trade-off for access to clay, glaze, kilns, technicians, and oh, did I mention, a spray booth?

Fellman embellished both these groups of vessels, above and below, in spray booths to create the subtle shifts in color. (Sandi Fellman photos)

Where do your ideas for art come from and why do you think that has influenced you so much?

The play of dualities—light/dark, inside/outside, shiny/matte, modern/ancient, and perfect/flawed—are a constant discourse for me in my creative process. If you deconstruct it far enough you go back to photography, particularly black-and-white photography. I don’t go into the work with that in mind, but that is the perspective that comes from looking at the work after the fact and considering what’s strong and interesting about it.

Fellman likes to work in series. For instance, this collection of sprayed vases in teal and black ties in with the blue-and-black and red-and-black sprayed vessels—all recent work—in the two previous photos. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I actually go into my creative process with very little in mind. Often when I start a new series I don’t really believe that’s what I’m doing. I’m dabbling, I think, and it lets me off the hook. You may have things in mind you want to create, particularly over time as your consciousness as an artist develops, but it deserves to linger in a deeper place and not be forced into the verbal, conscious part of the brain.

Fellman's "Back to Black" show at the KMR gallery, positions some of her earlier black-and-white fine art photographs alongside black ceramics created especially for the show. It's easy to see the shapes of the flowers—left to right, sunflower, lily of the valley, and fritillaria—echoed in the shapes of the clay vessels, as if one art form was conversing with the other. (Sandi Fellman photos)

How long does it take you to complete a piece?

I’m not in the studio every day because I’m so sloppy there. I don’t want to have only three hours to work because of cleanup, so I only work on days when I can devote a full eight hours. Clay has to dry, and no matter what you do, you can’t rush that. So usually it takes me a day to throw, then dry, then another day to trim and bisque fire, and still another day to glaze before the piece is fired the final time. I may have five pieces going at the same time in different stages—five waiting to dry, five waiting to be glazed, five in firing.

Fellman made these tiny pots to test underglaze, color bands, and how putting different tones on top would affect an underlying glaze. (Sandi Fellman photo)

What do you most like making? Why?

I love bowls. People sometimes ask if I’m throwing a bathroom sink because I like to make BIG bowls. To me they are a big, blank canvas with depth and motion. People always say my bowls look like they’re going to take off.

Fellman likes making bowls best. Instead of glaze on the inside of this one, she applied terra sigillata in one coarsely brushed coat to make the stripes. After it was fired, she oiled the interior with olive oil, with the result that the glazed ceramic interior resembles wood. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I’m always struggling to do the perfect bowl, the perfect photo, the perfect vase. So much so that the first time I took photos to the late John Szarkowski, famed MOMA curator, he saw that striving to be perfect in them.

A one-of-a-kind assymetrical porcelain serving set by Fellman. She fashioned the curled pieces at either side during periods when she didn't have access to a wheel. Though they look like handles in this photo, they're actually serving utensils.  (Sandi Fellman photo)

Your work, both in photography and ceramics, has been called sensuous. Is that intentional?

I’ve heard and read those things, but I’m not specifically trying to do that. As I said before, I make what I want to see, and others want to touch it. They want to reach into the picture or touch that bowl. That’s what makes something sensuous. I do love those descriptions!

Fellman's dining room table as it appeared while she was packing for a show in Los Angeles. (Sandi Fellman photo)

What other artists or places have influenced your work?

Among the many things I learned from my mentor and beloved photography professor Cavalliere Ketchum were self-motivation and an intense work ethic. Cavalliere is the most nonmaterialistic person I’ve ever met. He slept on a bedroll in the college darkroom, his clothes in paper bags in his car, and brushed his teeth in the darkroom before us students arrived.

He always said to spend money on our cameras, rather than on stuff. You can always go to the five and dime and find a light bulb and a pie pan and figure out how to light something, he said. Ceramics itself can be expensive, but making and firing my work is not the place to pinch pennies. I think what he meant was never to pinch pennies on moving your artwork forward. If that involves a piece of equipment, then so be it. Economize on the other stuff you buy, which, for him, meant living out of a paper bag.

Stylist Sharon Ryan, a friend, arranged the fireplace mantel in Fellman's loft using this collection of her vases. One of Fellman's flower photos hangs overhead, providing a gauzy backdrop to the vignette. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I was also greatly influenced by the year I spent in New Mexico. It really is, like the license plate says, the land of enchantment. A few years ago I went back and toured Georgia O’Keefe’s home, and I felt so connected with that spot.

O'Keefe's eyesight deteriorated as she aged until she couldn't paint anymore. It was then she took up ceramics. There was one plain, white ceramic bowl on display that she had made. It wasn’t perfect, but O’Keefe said she “quite liked it.” I did, too. People sometimes ask if I’m referencing her work in some of my work. Another large black piece done by Juan Hamilton, her long-time assistant, was also an inspiration to me.

Some of Fellman's white bowls, which hearken back to one she saw by Georgia O'Keefe on a visit to the painter's New Mexico home. (Sandi Fellman photos)

How do you market your work?

Social media has worked. One of stores that carries me—Dear Rivington—saw my work on Instagram. My first clay show in Los Angeles was at a photo gallery because the gallery owner saw my pottery on Facebook.

Some of Fellman's work posted on Facebook that drew the attention of a Los Angeles gallery owner, who eventually exhibited it. (Sandi Fellman photo)

It was a huge amount of work to ship all those pieces to LA and back. It took two solid days of back-breaking labor just to get everything ready for the shipper, which made me want a store in New York I could drive my stuff to. Flair New York is just around corner from where I live. I’d been in there to buy a lamp for friends and mentioned my ceramics. They said to bring in pieces or photos, but I didn’t follow through.

Then a friend at Greenwich House suggested I go there, thinking my work would fit the store's aesthetic. So I finally took some pieces in, and we’ve had the most extraordinary relationship. I had a show there last November, and they've had great success selling my work.

A selection of Fellman's earrings. (Sandi Fellman photo)

I also started making jewelry not very long ago. It all goes back to loving black, and it seems like I could never find any great black earrings. So I decided to make some out of white porcelain painted with black terra sigillata. It's another project I can do without a wheel. The porcelain is surprisingly light, sensuous to the touch, and sturdy.

Do you ever get blocked? If so, how do you deal with it?

Oh yeah. Blocks are devastating. There are days when I feel absolutely incompetent and think I’m never going to do anything again. To get unstuck, I work. I often tease that I’m going to teach a pottery class called “Drinking and Throwing.”

You have to do other things—read, look, travel—that gives you a reason, that puts enough inside the tank to want to come out. This is one of hardest things to understand when you’re young because you’ve been on a relatively straightforward trajectory through school.

These black-and-white vases get their sensuous look and feel from stoneware painted with black terra sigillata. (Sandi Fellman photo)

Sometimes people have some sort of special experience in their life that gives them something to say through their art and pushes them to say it. But I don’t want to get too academic about ceramics. I want to be open—go to shows, take workshops. I don’t want to intellectualize it for myself too much, and I feel I’ve earned that right.

As well as juggling my personal photography and making ceramics, I satisfy my creative needs with gardening, helping a friend redecorate, cooking a lovely meal, setting a beautiful table, or throwing a great party. It’s all connected.

If you want more…

(Sandi Fellman photo)

• Explore Fellman’s photography and ceramics websites. Contact her through the website for purchase information.
• If you're in the Washington Depot, CT, area this summer, check out the "Back to Black" exhibition of Fellman's photos and ceramics at KMR Arts.
• Browse a 2015 exhibit of her vessels at Los Angeles’ Kopeikin Gallery.
• Shop a curated collection of her wares at Flair New York. If you’re in the New York City area, Fellman’s vessels are also available at Dear Rivington, and her jewelry is at Michele Varian.
• Follow Fellman on Pinterest, Instagram, and/or Facebook.
• Use the (affiliate) links below to explore books in which Fellman's photographs appear.
• Shop (and follow!) my new Etsy store, BoHo Home By Susan, for vintage finds and a few of my boho DIYs. I have items for sale on eBay as well. New merchandise gets added daily, so check back often.
• Don't miss a day of BoHo Home. Sign up to have posts sent to your inbox using the subscription link in the sidebar (top right). Or follow with Bloglovin, a social-media platform that allows you to set up an account and access all the blogs you want to read in one place.
• You’ll also find additional content from BoHo Home Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, Instagram, Google+, and Houzz, so be sure to give me a follow EVERYWHERE!! The more the merrier!

           

Everyday Artist*: From Sesame Street to printmaker to JAK POT

*Everyday Artist is original to BoHo Home.
JAK POT sign designed by Barbara Gillespie, executed by Christopher Skura.

What's in a name? Well, if your initials are JAK and you make pottery, maybe the motherlode.

Join Everyday Artists as we profile Julie A. Knight of JAK POT Studio and take a gander at some beautiful wares to enrich your very own BoHo Home.

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Please describe your art.

In my personal studio in the Catskills I work in earthenware with a majolica glaze, painted with colored oxides.

Historically, majolica is stable, white, tin-glazed earthenware. Earthenware on its own remains porous after firing, but majolica glaze makes the vessel able to hold liquid, which allows it to be used for food. I use a contempory majolica without the lead flux because many of my pieces are for everyday use.

I also make stoneware fired at higher temperatures at studios in New York City. It becomes vitrified at the higher temperatures possible in a gas-fired kiln and water-tight without glaze, but the resulting look is quite different from the earthenware.

Knight's pottery takes on a variety of forms (from left to right): a two-handled jug/vase, a squat inkwell-type vase, and a rounded commemorative jug. (JAK POT photos)

And before clay?

I was always interested in ceramics. I joke with my husband that my first exposure to the wheel was watching a Sesame Street film about pottery-making. The potter threw a mug on a wheel, and it was magic to me! I was still in love with it when I had the opportunity to do some ceramics in high school.

But in art school ceramics was considered craft, not art—which is totally wrong, so wrong!—and I just didn't listen to myself. I then fell in love with printmaking and majored in that. I still love it, too, but eventually discovered I couldn't tolerate the solvents used in lithography and etching and started making watercolor monotypes. I loved that process, but moving to New York City meant limited space—no room for printing presses.

As luck would have it, Greenwich House Pottery was two doors down from my second New York apartment, so I signed up for a class and haven't looked back. GHP is where I truly learned to throw. I'd done it in college, of course. But the instruction there was more sculpture-based, and I was more interested in creating functional work.

Funny thing is, I'm still in love with those mugs and cups; I'm still influenced by that potter on Sesame Street!

A few of the mug shapes and designs in Knight's repertoire. (JAK POT photos)

How does your background in printmaking inform your ceramics?

The training has served me well with how I decorate a pot surface. I use colored slips—liquid clay with oxides as colorants—on the pots before the clay is completely dry and before any firing, sometimes brushing the slip onto the outside or inside only. When glazed with one glaze, firing makes it look as if two or more different glazes were applied.

These two vases were decorated with slip but only one glaze. Firing brought out the variation in color. (JAK POT photos)

I also use a resist to layer the slips. This reminds me a lot of the printmaking process. I make multiple paper resists to achieve a repeating pattern. At times, after I've left the negative shape on the clay surface, I'll turn the paper over, pressing the slip onto the clay again to make the positive.

The designs on these mugs were achieved with white slip and paper resists in positive and negative images. (JAK POT photo)

At first I only used this process with earthenware mugs and a white slip, since the earthenware is a dark color and the contrast shows through the majolica glaze. But in a recent group of mugs I used the paper-resist method with oxides on top of the majolica, having the oxide bleed through the paper, thus transferring to the glaze. At first glance it looks like a type of sponged-on area, but with closer examination you can see how the brush moved over the paper. It's very subtle, but I can't wait to make more.

Knight used paper resists and painted oxides on top of majolica to finish some of these vessels. (JAK POT photo)

How have other careers or jobs influenced your art?

The arts have always played a role in jobs I worked to support myself. I'm a fine arts graduate of the Ringling College of Art in Sarasota, FL, a school started by John Ringling of Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, in 1931. Although ties with the school were eventually cut, many students and graduates—me included—worked at the Ringling Circus wagon workshop.

My special skill was painting and "flittering" the wagons—applying layers of enamel, glitter and lacquer to the surface. I had to be careful not to mix the colored glitter; if an area was to be red, the wagon would have red paint and red glitter. While the base paint was still wet, I would grab a handful of glitter in my palm and blow it onto the paint. You have to work pretty fast. A colleague warned me early on not to breath in with the glitter up to my mouth. If you forget, you only do it once—a mouthful of glitter is awful!

Once the paint dried, I smoothed down the glitter with a bone burnisher and painted it with thick lacquer. The wagon then went to a spray booth to be covered in a thicker clear-coat, which gave the glittered areas more depth. Then I added glass jewels onto the highest points on each wagon to catch the spotlights during performances. It was a fun job as well as beautiful, but when I went home at night and showered, glitter coated the tub. When I did laundry I would find even more. I still have a few of the small jewels in a jar in my studio, and they make me smile every time I see them.

A plain earthenware jar (left) fashioned by Knight becomes a one-of-a-kind treasure with the addition of glaze and slip decoration (center front). All three finished jars (center and right) show the variety of decoration she uses in her work (JAK POT photos)

Every inch of the wagons was decorated, and nothing was too large or too small to add on. In that spirit, when I'm first working out a new design in my art, I push the decoration to the edge of ridiculous before I step back and simplify.

Also in Sarasota I worked with Dr. Hans Wiehler, then head of the Gesneriad Research Foundation, as a botanical illustrator. My job was to draw these rainforest plants from live and dried specimens to accompany Dr. Wiehler's descriptions for scientific research. It was definitely a collaboration. Dr. Wiehler would guide you as you drew to insure you depicted the characteristics of the plant, which was more difficult if working with dried specimens, but also rewarding. He was, quite simply, one of the gentlest people I've ever worked for, and I think of him often when I'm in my garden. He died in 2003, but his specimens and papers are housed at the Selby Botanical Gardens, Sarasota.

These images of unglazed earthenware vessels show the botanical detail in Knight's embellishment. (JAK POT photos)

Beyond that, I've painted walls at the Guggenheim between exhibits, done museum framing, designed frame moulding, worked as a mount maker and artist assistant, and now I teach ceramics to adults.

Describe your daily art-making routine, along with your studio or workshop.

My personal studio is in upstate New York, near Woodstock. For the last five years I've been working there with my husband, Christopher Skura, who is also an artist. His studio occupies the upstairs of our building, while mine is downtstairs. We collaborate every once in a while; he'll paint the large platters/chargers, which I throw.

Sometimes Knight and her husband collaborate on ceramic pieces, such as this charger, which she formed and he embellished. (JAK POT photo)

How did you get from Florida to New York City?

I grew up all over the map, but mostly in the south and southwest. My father was a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army, so we moved a lot. I get teased by friends that if you talk about somewhere in the United States, I'll say, "Oh, I lived there."

My last year of school in Sarasota, I was awarded a place in a New York studio program run by the Alliance of Independent Colleges of Art & Design, working as an intern under master printmaker Judith Solodkin at Solo Press. The program was a chance to experience the city and see that it was a real possibility for me.

Christopher and I met at a party the first week I was in Sarasota, so I've known him as a friend since I was 19. We became a couple later, and when he accepted a position at the Guggenheim Museum in 1995, I went along.

How did the two of you end up with a studio in Woodstock, NY?

When we decided to get married, we wanted it to be just the two of us and tell everyone later. The person who issued our marriage license said it was good anywhere in the state of New York. We'd already planned to honeymoon upstate, so we ended up getting married in Woodstock, too. It's one of the oldest artist colonies in the country and the home of Byrdcliffe Pottery since 1902. Since then, many artists, writers and musicians have settled there. The energy of that creative community is what drew us to it.

Knight works in her Woodstock studio, painting a majolica glaze onto a covered urn. The studio's living room can be seen through the doorway beyond her. (JAK POT photo)

We founded our studio there five years ago. It was previously a two-story garage used for storage, and it didn't have water or septic. It did, however, have electricity and a raw space, so we didn't have to do much demolition to reconfigure it. We made a small living area in the ground floor with a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room with a wood-burning stove, plus a bedroom upstairs. In the city we have a studio apartment with our bed in a walk-in closet, so to have a complete bedroom is a real treat!

Getting the studio up and running was a big undertaking, but it's so inspiring to go there. We don't have a landline, cable or Internet, and we can completely cut ourselves off and concentrate on our work.

Where do your ideas come from?

All my 48 years of experience influence my work. Some days it's a favorite painting—not the exact image, but the feeling you get from looking at it—or a book I'm reading. Most of all I enjoy the act of making the work, and that leads me to the next piece.

Metropolitan Museum of Art photo

There's a Minoan mug (left, dated 1950-1700 BCE) at the Met in the Greek wing that I often visualize. It astonishes me that it's survived, and it has a quality that draws you in. I want to pick it up so badly, hold it, drink from it. It's perfect, so perfect, that it has survived and we can view it in 2017. We don't know the potter’s name, but he or she is there in that mug. That’s the “it factor” I strive for: I want to make a mug that causes someone to want to touch it and use it.

How long does it take you to complete a piece?

It takes a few hours of actual making time. The real time is in the drying and firing. In my personal studio, it can take one to two months to fill the kiln, bisque, glaze and fire. But in the studios where I teach it’s much quicker since I'm not filling the kiln with only my work. But that work is like sketching; I don't consider it mine because it’s done for instruction.

Knight first makes a batch of mug bodies (left), then fashions the handles (middle) to attach, and finally adds her maker's mark to the base—all before any glazing takes place. (JAK POT photos)

What’s your favorite piece that you’ve made?

I was honored when I was asked to make an urn for the ashes of my friend, Sam Andrew, from the band Big Brother and the Holding Company. He married a good friend of mine more than 20 years ago and was such an amazing person—a talented visual artist as well as a musician, and so supportive of Christopher's and my artwork.

Knight was commissioned to make this urn to hold the ashes of a friend, Sam Andrew, of the band Big Brother and the Holding Company, who died in 2015. The rich warmth of the earthenware peeks through the simple majolica glaze. But as the closeup photo on the right shows, the piece is not without detail. (JAK POT photos)

Beyond that, I'm very fickle. I always love the next piece I'm making. Once I finish something, it's not as exciting as what I'll make next.

How has your art changed over time?

My work can be over-decorated. I get excited about a new technique and I overdo it. But I've learned to pull back and simplify. I try to give myself boundaries, then see how much variation I can achieve within them; otherwise, there are too many choices. The combinations of glazes, clay, colors, and forms is just endless.

Two tall, unusually shaped bases, reminiscent of African forms. The method of glazing lends a wood look to each one. (JAK POT photos)

Do you ever get blocked? If so, how do you deal with it?

I try to keep a few projects going at once, in different stages of drying and firing, which helps. If all else fails, I mix glaze, reclaim clay, or even clean. Just being in the studio doing something gives me new ideas.

Reclaiming clay is one exercise Knight employs to ward off creative block. (JAK POT photos)

How do you market your work?

I’ve done craft sales, which are great but require so much work in a short time. I ‘ve been so consumed with getting my studio running the last few years, but now I'm working on having more of an online presence. Currently Martha Stewart American-Made sells my bowls on Amazon Handmade, and I have a Facebook page where I post my work and my husband's.

Bowls by Knight include two (top) patterned using a paper resist. The white majolica-glazed bowl (lower right) is currently available through Martha Stewart American-Made on Amazon Handmade. (JAK POT photos)

What other artists do you love and why?

Picasso especially. He was a force of nature: no fear, never held back, so inspiring! Frida Kahlo for her openness and how she reinvented herself; Ed Ruscha for his humor; Robert Rauschenberg for the multitude of materials he used, including found objects; Leonard Baskin’s stunning woodcuts; Wayne Thiebaud for his paintings of cake. I can go on and on there are so many!

Knight works on an abstract lantern at her Woodstock studio. The adjoining living quarters are visible in the background. (JAK POT photos)

Who has influenced you most in your work?

My first college drawing teacher, Pamela Blume, because she taught me how to see. Drew Montgomery was also an instructor I learned a great deal from. He gave me my first teaching opportunity at the Painted Pot in Brooklyn, where I discovered how much I love teaching. Throwing is so intuitive that having to explain all the steps made me more aware of my own working style.

Later on, I was given the opportunity to teach at Greenwich House, which is such a special place with so much history. All ceramic studios are unique. Not everyone who takes a pottery class will become a potter or ceramic artist, but when you come together in a space to learn a skill, or at the least to develop an appreciation of the media, you meet the most amazing people from all walks of life, joined by their love of clay. What could be better?

One of Knight's finished abstract lanterns. "This is is a shape I've made over and over," she says. "Chris likes them on stools, like sculpture, but I prefer them as shades. With a light in them they look as if they could hover." (JAK POT photos)

What advice would you give an aspiring artist or collector? Any books to recommend?

I went to a traditional art school, where I learned drawing, painting, sculpture, ceramics, and printmaking. I wasn't sure how I was going to make a living, but I've always been able to support myself in art-related jobs. Moving to New York was key. Even there, I haven't been able to support myself by my art alone. I know it's possible, and I know people who have done it with hard work, a little luck, and much more hard work. But it takes a lot of money just to live here.

Julie's painted decoration on this urn, as well as the botanical detailing on the feet, give it a vintage look
and feel. (JAK POT photo)

For a collector, I would say to collect what moves you. You’re living with it, so you should love it. If you love ceramics and form, it’s always good to take a class to understand the materials. Not that you want to be a potter, but it gives you a better appreciation of the media. Same with a drawing class; it can open up an amazing window to the world around you.

When I was 17 I read Frida, a biography of Frida Kahlo by Heyden Herrera. I've loaned it many times; it’s an amazing book. My husband also gave me one of his favorite books he read when he was young, and it describes the drive to be an artist so well: My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. I love it, too.

If you want more...

• Check out Julie's pottery available through Amazon Handmade.
• Browse her website, where you can see Julie's work as well as some by her husband, Christopher Skura, then use the contact page to inquire about availability and purchase.
• Follow JAKPOT Studios on Facebook.
• Follow the (affiliate) links below to read books that inspired Julie.
• Subscribe to BoHo Home using one of the services at the very bottom of this page. Or, follow my blog with Bloglovin.