Ellen's Slim Wrists Were Handcuffed

     The night we arrived in Los Angeles, we were taken to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. Boy, our lives suddenly changed! It was fun and exciting, and we were thrilled.
     Many changes took place in Los Angeles during the 1950s, especially in pottery. There was an influx of influences from the East, and from Japan in particular. Ginny and I became aware of Zen Buddhism, and soon learned that it was exactly how we had felt all along. Here was a perspective quite different from Mennonitism. We had begun to drift away from formal religion and toward broader spiritual understanding and satisfaction.
     I have always had an intuitive appreciation of Shinto Buddhism. Buddhists pretty much believe that they return to the earth after death, where they probably were before consciousness anyway. But in my mind, what sets Shintoism apart from other philosophies was their appreciation of nature-being one with nature instead of controlling it. That became a parallel conversion in my clay work: from the importance of being in control all the time-control of glazes, of the kiln, of everything-to letting go and allowing things to happen.
     In an aesthetic sense, it was the difference between the beauty of symmetry and the beauty of asymmetry. Our conventional definition of good craftsmanship was the ability to make something by hand that looked as if it was made by a machine. After becoming acquainted with the work of such Japanese potters as Rosanjin and Hamada, I was challenged by a different way of thinking about beauty. Previously, if the glaze crazed, it was a failure. Then I saw tea bowls that were rough and crackled, sometimes even cracked through and very expensive. Itwas a basic change for me.
     It changed my work to the point where now I appreciate asymmetrical balance. To some people looking at my clay work, it appears unbalanced. My love of bonsai began at this point. Bonsai is symbolic of everything I've learned to appreciate in Japanese culture. It is the beauty of the irregular. It was a hell of a big leap for someone like me who once thought a pine tree should be straight, to becoming someone who appreciates gnarled and miniture twisted trees.
     I don't exactly remember when I first learned about Yanagi and Hamada, but I am sure I was aware of them. I read Yanagi's The Unknown Craftsman, as well as Okakura's The Book of Tea. Although I still retained my earlier desire to make symmetrical functional pots, in time the aesthetics proposed by these books and other sources became the new foundation for my work.

Lust Grew Like A Sty in Zarro's Eyes

     I was Peter Voulkos' first student for perhaps a month and a half. Because it was a new school, we had practically no ceramics department. Actually, there had been a department but it was so old-fashioned that it used treadle sewing machines as wheels. Pete just junked everything and started over.
     On the first day, Pete said, "Let me show you where the pot shop is." I looked. Nothing. Well, there was a sink and a couple of tables. But no clay, no wheels, no mixers, no kilns-nothing. Also, Pete didn't like what was available on the market as equipment. He knew what he wanted. He certainly didn't want the treadle wheels, and he thought the electric wheels at that time were a joke. In retrospect; this was an important beginning for me because I ended up helping Pete design and build our wheels.
     The first wheel we worked on was a kick wheel. Two friendly manufacturers named Mike Kalin and Niel Nordstrom, builders of "Advanced Kilns," allowed us to use their shop and even did the welding for us. Pete designed the first wheel himself, using 8-inch channel iron for the frame and 4-inch pipe legs, a 2-inch thick maple seat and table top. (In those days, all kick wheels were high so that you had to climb into them-why, I don't know.) It was a magnificent machine, but so heavy it couldn't be moved.
     One day I watched someone cross the street in a wheelchair made of lightweight materials. I saw that it could be folded up and put into the back of a car. Suddenly, I got an idea for the framework of a kick wheel, using an X frame as a truss. Instead of heavy material I could make it light weight with the same strength as mass. So I made the first kick wheel like that. It could also be folded up if you wanted to move it.
     Pete looked at it and said, "That's pretty good. How about making some for the school?" We negotiated a purchase order for eight wheels, and I made them pretty much on my own and from my own design. I cut one of the frames down for myself and I may have cut it too low, because Pete laughed when he saw it. But I was convinced that you didn't need a high seat and table. From then on, all wheels began being made lower.
     Pete wanted to have an electric wheel similar to the Denver Fire Clay wheel he was used to. We located a manufacturer of a quarter-horsepower variable speed motor. Pete said, "Let's get a little more horsepower," and we talked about a third-horse. As the salesman left, however, he said, "You know, for $20 more you can have a half-horse." So Pete said, "Yeah, let's try that."
     We designed the wheel and put it into a frame. The motor came with a variable speed control built right into it and all you had to do was add a string tied to a foot pedal. The motor had a gearhead built into it. It simply needed a wheel head to make a potter's wheel. In fact, some people just took the motor out of its wooden crate, turned the crate over and mounted the motor to it and they had an instant wheel. It was much easier to make a wheel in those days, but they were loud and made a lot of noise. Pete always referred to them as growlers.
     It was wonderful working with Pete. He didn't have a separate studio and worked instead at the school. His magnetism and presence was a far better incentive for us than any assignments he might have given us. We worked our tails off. Usually, Pete didn't show up until 10:00 in the morning-he was a late sleeper-and then spent most of the day talking, visiting, going to other schools, getting coffee. Pete usually came back after dinner at night, especially if there was a night class. By 10:00 in the evening, he was ready start his own work, and he would work until midnight or 1:00 o'clock. We usually ended up going out and having a beer, or just hanging out-the night clubs and bars were nearby where Miles Davis or Peggy Lee often performed. After work, well, that's what you did. Indirectly, music became important to us. Pete enjoyed playing flamenco music and listening to Segovia. I liked listening to classical music, and we all had an interest in jazz.