Article by Martin Beaver

First printed in ‘Ceramics: Art and Perception No. 26 1996′ Republished with permission – www.mansfieldceramics.com

Being a maker of clay objects which are usually woodfired, it is sometimes easier to find genuine enthusiasm for one’s work among one’s colleagues in the field than outside it. At exhibitions, conferences, workshops and group firings, small huddles of those who have been touched by fire will form as they gloat\ogle\drool over areas of carbon inclusion, glistening droplets of molten feldspar or rivulets of shiny ash deposit. Other makers, we assume, will have an eye for and an appreciation of form and the benefit of a shared understanding of a language learned by watching the effects of fire on pots. While these moments can be heart-warming, it is even more rewarding to find similar zeal for what is, to most people, a fairly obscure art form among the civilian (non-clay working) population. I have had three exhibitions of work now where an inordinate amount of work was bought for one collection. Besides feeling excited and grateful that this should happen, I was curious to know who these people were and why they had this obvious passion for woodfired ceramics. It was also obvious from the choices they had made from the work available that they had an eye for what was good; they would always buy the pot one wouldn’t have minded keeping. It is only recently, however, that I had the pleasure of meeting Ken Lawrence and Don Evans and being introduced to what I suspect must be the most outstanding private collection of Australian ceramics anywhere.

On our first meeting at a gallery opening, they related to me the story of a recent purchase of a large pot by Sergio Sill. On delivery, the pot had to stand outside for several days until room was made in the house by moving something else out. This story I took, of course, to be an embellishment. The truth, however, lived up to and even surpassed anything I might have imagined. The house, which looks large from the outside, defies exploration further than the kitchen and living area and even then one has to edge in sideways. Don Evans says he has not been to the front of the house in years. Towering up on all sides amid the forest of books, are dressers and shelves all laden with pots. In a quick sweep, my pottery juices started to run as I recognised or failed to recognise dozens of big names in Australian ceramics interspersed with the odd 19th century salt-glazed water cooler. There had been no exaggeration: there were pots everywhere, and not just woodfired ones. The plethora of Australian stoneware was obvious but there were also the vestiges of other previous interests, ceramic as well as those of furniture and books. The depth of passion of these collectors was evident when I asked if there were any of Bill Samuel’s pots about. Lawrence, who is a man of tall but graceful proportions, grabbed a torch and disappeared into one of the gloomy chasms about us. It seems they believe there is a danger that the collection could be stolen after having tradesmen about. This has meant that most of the house is in darkness as the antique electric wiring has gradually failed.

In order to view the work at all, it was necessary to sit in the back garden where there was light and space. On two separate occasions I have spent four or five hours in their leafy suburban garden looking at pots. We would consider the work of a particular potter, say Heja Chong, then the conversation would cause us to compare some of Col Levy’s earlier woodfire, then of course his later celadons which would remind us of a bowl of Tony Chinnery. Was I interested in seeing some pots by Alan Peascod? More Bill Samuels, a large jar which apparently had stood in his lounge room for many years, then a lidded vessel which had been a favourite of his wife. Then, of course, the work of Owen Rye, Janet Mansfield and Chester Nealie came out for perusal. The rollicking and soundly illustrated discussion continued, punctuated only by Lawrence unfolding his long legs from under the iron garden furniture and bounding off to the house only to return with another armful of treasures. All the while, the tales of the collectors continued, when and how each pot was acquired, how this one was snatched from the indecisive clutches of this or that major gallery; how this Shiga Shigeo was recognised in a junk shop.

Both veterans of active service during the second world war, the two men met in the Melbourne theatre scene after post-war rehabilitation training had led them there. They tell stories which conjure images of a’50s cafe society and the Melbourne Ceramic Circle, a monthly meeting of avid collectors, where Ken Lawrence moved from collecting English figurines to establishing the most impressive collection of blue and white ware in Melbourne at the time. The eccentric duo became antique dealers at one stage although it seems they made themselves elusive to customers, obviously preferring the thrill of the hunt to the mundane task of opening a shop on a daily basis.

It is hard to say why they are so passionate for collecting ceramics. Don Evans’ interest may lie in his blood, due in part to his grandfather having been a potter of some renown in England. I suspect, given that ceramics is not their sole preoccupation, that part of their motivation is for pure as opposed to applied collecting. At the same time, the need to maintain and continue this collection, in particular, seems to have been born out of sensing a need or a gap, to collect what no one else has successfully or adequately collected. A stoneware bottle bought at a junk market in Canterbury which none of the experts at the time could satisfactorily identify piqued the interest of these two and provided the basis for a mission to build up a collection which would document the growth of Australian ceramics. There is a desire for the collection to provide a comprehensive historical resource as a cultural and educational tool which is perceived to be lacking in public collections. Unfortunately the practicalities of displaying the collection for this purpose have not yet been resolved.

My visits there have been concerned mainly with the woodfired pots in the collection, a curiosity which began for them with the purchase of a pot by Col Levy in the early “80s. After the acquisition of a mid-16th century Shigaraki jar, the love of pots that had been naturally glazed by extended woodfiring in the Japanese tradition was cemented. The focus on woodfired pots continues today with a desire to collect the work of younger potters of Australia’s contemporary woodfirers. Don Evans professes a respect for the digging of clay and the whole physical involvement in the woodfire process. They also recognise the fact that the potter does not necessarily have total control over the work. They sees here a correlation with good acting where, “one must empty oneself ready for someone else to come in”. This links to the idea of Zen to which some potters aspire, the conditions for which I think we are setting up when we woodfire. Aspects of attitude and wholeness when present in each stage of the process are often evident in the finished work. In woodfired work the mood of the fire is recorded also, reflected in the glaze the result perhaps of the type of wood, the dampness of the wood or the weather, an aggressive fast flame or a lazy dancing one. Holding the pots of Bill Samuels, for instance, I felt their spiritual presence. The power of woodfired pots is immense but so subtle as to be apparent only gradually, the opposite of those pots that knock you over with their garrulous nature.

This, for me, is the aspect of woodfired work which makes it irresistible; it is a taste which, once acquired, is hard to forget. In my experience, it is a taste not often developed to such a level as that which I saw in Ken Lawrence and Don Evans. In this way they are unique, particularly as they are outside the field of woodfired experience. These two have never seen a wood firing in process and yet by viewing the work they have collected and from talking to potters about their work, an understanding and a knowledge of the language of fire has grown. When one hears them talking about a piece, a genuine love for pottery is evident, a love which I suppose we all hope, but seldom believe, is out there.