Kathy Sterngold
Artist Statement
Artist Statement
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l love to make all sorts of ceramics, ranging from large abstract sculptures to coffee mugs and jack-o'-lanterns. It's understandable, therefore, that people often ask me if I'm a potter or a ceramic artist. I think this is a false distinction and I balk at being branded as one or the other. Many of my sculptural works are grounded in basic functional forms, such as vases and plates. At the same time, when I'm creating tableware and other functional pieces, I like to add new aesthetic elements or experiment with novel designs. For this reason, I often shudder when people ask me to create pots that will match ones I made previously. Even when they show me the originals, I usually can’t duplicate the pieces or even remember what I was thinking when I made them!
While I think of myself both as a potter and a ceramic artist, I must confess that for me, creating functional pottery is the higher calling. I love creating pieces that people can use and enjoy on an everyday basis. For over ten thousand years, pottery-making has been one of the ways that people imbue the routines of everyday life with meaning, beauty, pleasure and delight. Just ask friends who begin each day by sipping coffee from their favorite handmade mugs, or who brighten their homes and their lives with wheel-thrown vases filled with plants and flowers.
As a college student, I was introduced to the aesthetic prevalent among many Japanese potters and their Western disciples who favored the more minimalist and functional forms of mingei or folk pottery, in contrast to works of ceramic "fine art" that seemed unduly ornate and even pretentious in comparison. This approach was popularized by the new breed of studio potters in England and the U.S., who created functional works using simple yet elegant designs, recognizing that the beauty of a pot was intimately tied to its practical utility.
As a college student, I was introduced to the aesthetic prevalent among many Japanese potters and their Western disciples who favored the more minimalist and functional forms of mingei or folk pottery, in contrast to works of ceramic "fine art" that seemed unduly ornate and even pretentious in comparison. This approach was popularized by the new breed of studio potters in England and the U.S., who created functional works using simple yet elegant designs, recognizing that the beauty of a pot was intimately tied to its practical utility.
When creating a pitcher, for example, there may be an infinite number of possible shapes and designs, but for the pitcher to have true functional and aesthetic integrity, its spout must pour without making a mess, and its handle must be sturdy and comfortable to grip, both when the pitcher is held in an upright position and when it is tilted down to pour out its contents. The challenges posed by these kinds of physical and practical constraints can bring out a potter’s creativity and inventiveness, rather than inhibit them.
My philosophy of ceramics is beautifully expressed by the potter and author Clary Illian, who wrote: “Pottery can have all the formal components of the fine arts. Its content or symbolic meaning is unlimited, but it is a category of the arts whose subject is utility.”
My philosophy of ceramics is beautifully expressed by the potter and author Clary Illian, who wrote: “Pottery can have all the formal components of the fine arts. Its content or symbolic meaning is unlimited, but it is a category of the arts whose subject is utility.”
In all of my work, I try to bring out the nature of the clay, whether by the fluidity of the throwing process or the subtle, minimalist lines of handbuilding. I'm influenced by the beauty of the natural objects that surround my daily life in such abundance. The earthy colors and textures I find in the local landscapes of Central Pennsylvania are a source of inspiration for the colors and textures I strive to create in my pottery.
Throughout my career, I've been obsessed with trying to create pieces that put a human face on ceramic forms. Kiln-fired clay is hard and lifeless, and yet, for thousands of years, ceramicists have imbued their works with inner lives and human qualities. This ability to breathe life into clay has always fascinated me. I’m especially intrigued by how adding just a few traces of a facial expression can conjure up the presence of sentient beings with their own personalities. Sometimes, the face in the vase can reach out to you, creating a moment of human recognition or even affinity.
Throughout my career, I've been obsessed with trying to create pieces that put a human face on ceramic forms. Kiln-fired clay is hard and lifeless, and yet, for thousands of years, ceramicists have imbued their works with inner lives and human qualities. This ability to breathe life into clay has always fascinated me. I’m especially intrigued by how adding just a few traces of a facial expression can conjure up the presence of sentient beings with their own personalities. Sometimes, the face in the vase can reach out to you, creating a moment of human recognition or even affinity.
