The Sounds of Night Shrouded the Forest

Ginny says our equipment business is the world's most expensive hobby. I became involved in making equipment because I wanted to know how to simplify and make it better. I've always enjoyed mechanical things and in figuring out how they work. When I became a potter at the Los Angeles County Art Institute, the equipment was non-existent and, therefore, it was a fine opportunity to make wheels, mixers and kilns.
     In my search for the underlying concepts of equipment, it was necessary to let go of the way other people manufactured them. Take electric wheels, for instance. When the alternating-current variable-speed wheel that Pete used for years was taken off the market, I had to investigate direct-current motors. I had to teach myself how to convert electricity from alternating to direct current. I opted for a then-recent development called transistors, an electronic technique for converting voltage. But I wasn't happy with the results because it never produced a nice smooth control of the motor, and tended to be noisy, jerky, unpredictable and wore out quickly.
     Then I hired an electrical engineer in Silicon Valley to help me. His advice was to take a step backward in technology and use a large variable transformer. The cost was high, but in the end it would give a smoother, quieter performance, particularly at the slow speeds, which, as all potters know, are more important in throwing than fast speeds.
     Another problem was the gear box. For years we used gears to cut down the high speed of motors, but the gear boxes began to vibrate and become noisy. I found this was due to a manufacturing process. Whereas, formerly the gears were machined on a lathe, now they were cast and then tumbled in a machine to knock off the rough edges. That was fine for escalators and conveyer belts but not for potters' wheels. So I changed the drive train to use V belts.
     Since I wanted the quietest, most efficient, most powerful equipment, I ended up using the variable transformer system. It is the simplest because it only uses two components: a transformer and a rectifier. Everything else is switches. We get more horsepower out of the same motor because the direct current coming through the unit is purer, resulting in a smoother performance.
     I seldom recommend using more than a 1/6 horsepower motor, yet beginners frequently say they need a horse-and-a-half. If I ask them to tell me what horsepower means, they don't really know; it's just a number to them. Eventually, I found a way to rate wheels without reference to horsepower or torque. I call it "centering capacity," refering to the number of pounds of clay one can center on the wheel before the circuit breaker blows. Most potters can comprehend that. When I say a motor has "50 pounds centering power," they don't have to worry about what its horsepower is.
    After a fire burned down our factory eleven years ago, I chose to use the insurace money to redesign some of our equipment. I decided to use a monolithic aluminum frame onto which everything would hang- the legs, bearings, table, shaft and motor. I thought this would be the ultimate type of wheel until one day in a restaurant I saw a baby chair called "Sassy" that hung on the edge of the table. I said, "Wow, if I did this to my wheel, we could make a "sassy wheel", one that just hangs on the edge of a table." So I came up with what I call the "Clamp-On Wheel." It's a perfect wheel for schools and fairs, for the handicapped and for overseas shipment, because it can be reduced to its elements and reassembled upon arrival. I have even carried one with me on airplanes and put it in the overhead rack. Last fall, I took one with me to Japan in a suitcase.
    Originally, I envisioned a mixer as a giant mix-master with a central beater. I pursued that idea for a long time, making various unworkable Rube Goldberg contraptions. Finally, I put the whole thing on the back burner and forgot it for a while. Then one day I woke up and in a flash knew the solution to my problems: Instead of rotating the beater, rotate the tub! Now we have a chain going around the tub that gives maximum pull, as against the earlier idea of a little pulley down below trying to rotate the beater.
     The basic concept of the tub rotation has not changed for twenty-five years. Cement continues, for a number of reasons, to be the choice of material for the tub. First, it is non-rusting. Second, it is heavy enough so its momentum will pull through stiff clay chunks. But the serendipitous reason for using cement is because the clay will not stick to a wet, porous surface, unlike a steel tub in which the clay has to be scraped off. Another important change was the use of round bars instead of sharp scraper bars to remove clay from the side wall. A phenomenon called the "Conat effect" pulls the clay away from the tub, making removal easier.
    Early in our equipment business, I resisted advertising our products. Sales came strictly from word-of-mouth. Ginny laid it on the line. "We've either got to advertise and swim, or we will sink." My reaction was, "OK, if we're going to advertise, let's enjoy it, and I hope other people will, too." So instead of conventional high-pressure ads, we always try to put some humor in them. I guess it has become our image now.
   Each month I try to think up an unusual angle. The most recent one turned out to be one of our most popular. I was photographed all dressed up as a young kid with a skateboard, standing on the corner, with baggy pants and baseball cap reversed. Lots of people wrote and called about that ad, particularly school kids who sent us pictures of themselves all dressed up like that. I suppose the key to its success was the funny seventy-three-year-old man acting like a kid.

Dawn Burst Over the Mountaintops

I suppose you could call me a classicist. I came out of a Judeo-Christian background with a great appreciation for classical beauty in the Western sense. Even though I have spent considerable time searching for beauty in other directions, I feel that I am, after all, what I was born into and raised with. It's difficult to eradicate all that!
     Once I heard that Bob Arneson had said of me: "It's too bad about Paul. His work is so beautiful that there's not much possibility of his making a real contribution." Comments like that or being around Pete with his massive, visceral handling of the clay can give one an inferiority complex. But when I am able to distance myself and look objectively at my work, I say to myself, Well, listen, what you do is the thing you like to do, and there are reasons for that. Maybe you can't be visceral, but you appreciate the organic qualities of the clay, its plasticity, and how it takes imprints and texture. I think it's important to find your own way.
     You know, I'm still trying to figure out what that little voice inside is. I often quote Abraham Maslow and his theory of self-realization. He says that everyone in the world has certain basic physical needs that have to be met. Initially, they are physical-food, shelter, sex, love; reproduction. Once those needs are satisfied, there are those among us who want more in life-perhaps watching TV, games, sports, movies, etc. Then there are people who are not satisfied only with seeing such things but want to play the sport, live the life, etc. And so on up the ladder until the last group is reached, and there we find the artists, musicians, poets and writers.
    I hope my work will gain some recognition for its uniqueness. Of course, I'm proud of the inventions I've made and my contributions to machinery. In many ways I feel satisfied and fulfilled by that, but I still want to try something new. That's why I've started to make bronze vessels. It's beginning to pay off, although in terms of money, I'd be a lot better off if I made bronze replicas of cowboys, Indians, mermaids and cute children!
    I've done the best I could with what I have. At least, I hope my mother is satisfied that I have. I think I've pursued just about everything I've wanted to pursue with all the physical and mental energy at my command. I've never felt I couldn't do what interested me. Pete once told me: "Listen, go ahead and show your work anytime you're asked, even if it's at a county fair with the pigs and chickens. Just make sure that it's your best work. Every time you're invited, accept it, and show your best work." I've followed that advice.
     And I've sure had fun with life!