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Tag: Ceramics

  • Samuel Sarmiento’s Ceramics Channel Universal Memory in His U.S. Debut

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    Installation view: “Samuel Sarmiento: Relical Horn” at Andrew Edlin Gallery in New York. Courtesy of Andrew Edlin Gallery

    The ability of a given artwork to resist being stripped of meaning over time is most often the result of its link with a continuous heritage of symbolic and archetypal materials that humans have shared across centuries and geographies to explain the complexities of existence. As J. M. Coetzee suggests in his 1991 essay “What is a Classic?,” the works we call classics endure not because institutions protect them, but because they speak across time, finding new interlocutors in each era. A classic has a living presence, retaining dense symbolic meaning and demanding response and re-interpretation even as society changes.

    Engaging directly with the rich repertoire of symbols and myths of his native Venezuelan Caribbean and extending to cross-cultural resonances and similar narratives, artist Samuel Sarmiento engages with mythopoiesis directly using clay as a medium. A rich heritage of oral traditions and community storytelling is observable in his seductive kiln-fired ceramic sculptures: articulated, overlapping visual narratives and inscriptions like ancient tablets or natural fossilized traces. In the new works in his U.S. debut show at Andrew Edlin, “Relical Horn,” Sarmiento experiments with the elemental potential of clay, playing with the different transformations ceramics can undergo and embellishing his creations with patinas, glazes, pigments and even gold. His kiln’s searing heat yields kaleidoscopic, granular and liquid surfaces.

    An artist in a white lab coat points at ceramic artworks displayed on the wall in his studio. The sculptures, with vibrant and intricate details, sit on tables and carts in the foreground. A large, colorful mixed-media painting of abstract human figures is mounted on the wall, providing a contrasting backdrop to the handmade ceramics.An artist in a white lab coat points at ceramic artworks displayed on the wall in his studio. The sculptures, with vibrant and intricate details, sit on tables and carts in the foreground. A large, colorful mixed-media painting of abstract human figures is mounted on the wall, providing a contrasting backdrop to the handmade ceramics.
    Samuel Sarmiento. Photo: Gabrielle Vega

    Through these alchemical processes, artists and artisans have collaborated directly with the principle of entropy and the transformation of matter for thousands of years. Clay is fired at temperatures at which any organic substance would be pushed into extinction or fragmentation, but Sarmiento transforms ceramics into living cosmogonies that embody a rich reservoir of ancestral myth and cross-cultural archetypes, layering oral traditions, Caribbean cosmology and intuitive mark-making in fragile yet enduring vessels of memory.

    “One of the primary purposes of ceramics is containment,” Sarmiento tells Observer. “Initially, ceramic objects held valuable resources such as water, food and currency.” He recounts an ancient tale about the medium’s origins. According to a Caribbean myth, in the earliest days of humanity, it was nearly impossible to store water because it was both difficult to contain and extremely scarce. “Humans attempted to make vessels from tree leaves or wood, but both materials deteriorated over time. They decided to speak with the Goddess of the Forest, who recommended they dig a large hole next to a river, where they would find a new kind of material.” When humans obeyed the Goddess and dug near the great river, they discovered clay. When they asked what to do with it, “she instructed them to shape the clay into vessels. By firing these vessels, they would be able to store water successfully.”

    A large curved ceramic sculpture covered in painted female faces, star-like dots and clusters of small modeled objects shows a central figure with red hair surrounded by planets, shells and textured forms, with two additional faces at the top corners and one at the bottom edge.A large curved ceramic sculpture covered in painted female faces, star-like dots and clusters of small modeled objects shows a central figure with red hair surrounded by planets, shells and textured forms, with two additional faces at the top corners and one at the bottom edge.
    Samuel Sarmiento, The Origin of the Stars, 2025. Courtesy the artist and Andrew Edlin Gallery

    For hundreds of years, ceramics have served as markers of the time they inhabit, Sarmiento reflects. “They have remained one of the principal mediums for deciphering a people’s ethnography because they can withstand the passage of time.” This idea of time—of encapsulating mythological and spiritual heritage in a vessel capable of preserving and carrying it across generations—is at the heart of his practice. His ceramic works function as artifacts of collective memory, shared wisdom and mythical imagination, helping humans better understand their place in the cosmos and within the relentless flow of time.

    Sarmiento notes how French writer Roger Caillois, in The Writing of Stones (1970), argues that rocks and minerals, like landscapes themselves, have the capacity to harbor memory. “The artistic exercise of taking clay, which is part of the landscape, shaping it into forms like crowns, shells, nests, or ornaments and simultaneously using it to contain information creates a symbolic refuge,” Sarmiento explains. “Through this alchemy, an artwork can help humanity preserve what little wisdom we have left.”

    Examining the dense narratives that adorn the surfaces of his sculptures, it’s almost impossible not to read his practice through a Jungian lens: his work is a conduit through which archetypes and ancestral symbologies—shared across cultures—reemerge from the collective unconscious. “I believe visual artists and writers alike are collectively searching to connect with the invisible,” Sarmiento says, pointing out that this urge becomes even more pressing in periods when truth is most difficult to discern.

    “In my artistic practice, I utilize ancestral narratives from the Caribbean and South America, and sometimes Africa—not for exoticism, but simply to exalt the human condition,” he explains, noting that this often takes the form of rites of passage. “We are beings in constant movement.”

    A gallery corner displays a long ceramic piece on a pedestal decorated with painted mountain shapes, while two ceramic wall works hang on adjacent white walls under soft lighting.A gallery corner displays a long ceramic piece on a pedestal decorated with painted mountain shapes, while two ceramic wall works hang on adjacent white walls under soft lighting.
    Born in 1987 and based in Aruba, Sarmiento investigates the fictional possibilities of history, the force of oral traditions,and the pliancy of time. Courtesy of Andrew Edlin Gallery

    A recurring element in his work is the female figure. Whether mermaids or spirit guides, they guard the narratives that appear on the surface. In many cases, these figures can be associated with nature or feminine deities like Yemayá, who represents the sea, Sarmiento says. They are figures of healing, protection and renewal in a world that needs external intervention due to humanity’s inability to resolve itself to the present.

    Across centuries and geographies, the female figure has been associated with birth, life and protection, mothering the world in a relentless cycle of generation, transformation, decay and renewal. And it is in times of great despair and chaos that these figures and the mythological world they inhabit can guide us into a metaphorical realm that helps us see beyond the present moment and reconnect with something deeper and universal.

    A self-taught artist who has only recently begun to engage with the broader international art world, Sarmiento preserves a raw and primordial visual lexicon that appears to have escaped the influences of both art-historical tradition and contemporary art market trends. The apparent simplicity or naivety of his language results from a spontaneous and intuitive process of channeling, in which ancient symbols, myth and memories emerge from the collective unconscious and are translated into new forms through a contemporary practice.

    As Michael Meade explains, to see with mythic imagination is to see metaphorically—referring to the old Greek word metaphor, which means not just to see beyond, but to be carried beyond the limits of linear time and literal thinking. “The new territory or new world only comes into view and becomes conscious to us when a new vision arises from the darkness around us and from the unseen depths of our own unconscious,” he said in a recent podcast, which profoundly resonates with what Sarmiento is pushing with his art: not a new world but a new vision in which past, present and future coexist.

    A pair of tall, narrow ceramic slabs displayed side by side depict a dense forest of palm trees, small animals and dotted patterns, with textured, shell-like ridges and touches of gold glaze along the top edges.A pair of tall, narrow ceramic slabs displayed side by side depict a dense forest of palm trees, small animals and dotted patterns, with textured, shell-like ridges and touches of gold glaze along the top edges.
    Samuel Sarmiento, Transit (Heraclitus River), 2024. Courtesy the artist and Andrew Edlin Gallery

    The sensibility of the work lies in synthesizing and connecting seemingly disparate references to create new poetics, Sarmiento explains, walking us through a richly layered ecosystem of references that idiosyncratically exist in his work, spanning from Jorge Luis Borges’ short story “The Circular Ruins” (1940) to Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty (1970) and the movie Fitzcarraldo. As an exercise in argumentation, he takes these primary ideas and pairs them with Caribbean concepts and mythologies. Some of the show’s pieces reference the legend regarding the origin of the continents, which are said to have emerged from ruins and furrows located on the seabed.

    Living for more than 13 years in the Dutch Caribbean has allowed Sarmiento to accumulate a vast library of oral narratives. Having been born in Venezuela, a country with a rich literary tradition and also multicultural connections, Sarmiento was motivated to approach art through universal stories. “All these references converge in a single object—whether a two- or three-dimensional sculpture—which often possesses geomorphic characteristics resembling sea coral or honeycombs,” he explains.

    Sarmiento’s encyclopedic lexicon fluidly draws from ancient oral tales as well as more recent books. He mentions Guns, Germs, and Steel (1997) by Jared Diamond and The Invention of Nature (2015) by Andrea Wulf as part of his contemporary references. “One of the fundamental characteristics of oral narratives is their ability to explain complex processes through simple images or stories,” he elaborates. Tropes can be accessible at different levels—what Homer once expressed, Disney later embraced.

    As in a geological process of sedimentation and development, found in both natural and cultural realms, “If we look at narratives ranging from the Homeric fables to South American legends, we see that archetypal symbols such as life, death, the journey, the encounter and exile are often repeated,” Sarmiento says. “Part of my artistic exercise is to recontextualize these archetypal and universal symbols in an era of anachronisms.” Although we have information from every time and geography at our fingertips, humans often lack the capacity to recognize historical coincidences or similarities in sociopolitical processes.

    A wide three-panel ceramic piece features densely written text, small drawings and map-like diagrams framed by dark blue and gold protruding spikes, with each panel joined side by side on the wall.A wide three-panel ceramic piece features densely written text, small drawings and map-like diagrams framed by dark blue and gold protruding spikes, with each panel joined side by side on the wall.
    Samuel Sarmiento, Untitled (WB, 1973 – 1983 – 1993). Courtesy the artist and Andrew Edlin Gallery

    He aims to demonstrate that while authors and languages vary across history, the story of humanity is the sum of a few core metaphors, in a continuous cycling of archetypal tropes. “This process is an exercise I have only been able to refine through reading and building visual archives,” Sarmiento says. Repetition plays a crucial role in his gestures, whether in clay or drawing. “As Hans-Georg Gadamer noted in The Relevance of the Beautiful, we tend to repeat what brings us pleasure,” he reflects. “In many cases, this repetition creates complex languages that lead us toward new interpretations and developments.”

    Sarmiento’s process involves a tense yet generative exchange between intuition and control; he embraces the unexpected results that emerge from the interaction between energetic and psychic presence and the unpredictable reactions of clay and glaze. Despite the presence of figures or engravings, his narratives—which cover the entire surface as in a horror vacui without any precise order—form a kind of flow of thought-forms that defy any linguistic or visual codification. Like  Surrealist automatic writing, these visual mythologies are the result of an intuitive reconnection with the language of a shared subconscious, to which the artist reconnects through his practice, finding new forms for the invisible. By bypassing rational control, the result is an epiphanic image—a strange revelation of forms carved and crystallized on the surface of the clay.

    “Although I am self-taught with only brief experiences in guided workshops, the driving force behind my work is purely intuitive,” Sarmiento explains. “Still, the symbols and figures that emerge are resources drawn from years of researching oral histories, essays, and fantastical stories, driven by an intention to communicate with people from all walks of life.”

    A rectangular ceramic relief with spiky protrusions around the edges shows a central drawing of a horned animal inside a circular fenced area, surrounded by palm-like plants, dotted textures, two large eye shapes at the bottom corners and a painted flower near the center.A rectangular ceramic relief with spiky protrusions around the edges shows a central drawing of a horned animal inside a circular fenced area, surrounded by palm-like plants, dotted textures, two large eye shapes at the bottom corners and a painted flower near the center.
    Samuel Sarmiento, The Hunt of the Unicorn, 1495 – 1505, 2025. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Edlin Gallery

    At one point, Sarmiento shares how, feeling a spontaneous connection with Jung and his thinking, he applied some years ago to a post-academic program in Switzerland. “My goal was to further my artistic research, develop a broader vision of the symbols and archetypal figures in my work, visit Carl Jung’s house, and access the literature and resources offered by the program,” he says. Yet the jury’s response was that there was no reason he needed to visit that specific location, stating that any information I required about Jung could be found on the internet. “My practice was ultimately not considered part of a contemporary discourse,” he points out, noting how one of the greatest challenges for artists from the Caribbean and South America is finding spaces where their artistic languages are appreciated through horizontal dialogue—not as exotic elements meant to fill a program’s minority quota.

    Sarmiento’s work is a message of universality, celebrating and protecting the cross-cultural patrimony of stories and myths that might still guide humans toward a better notion of the future. He offers something beyond the Western paradigm of knowledge—ancestral and primordial—that has been suppressed or mostly forgotten but still resonates in the subconscious as something understood by the entirety of humanity.

    His symbolic language reminds us how much we share across cultures, and how this universal ancestral heritage can help guide us into the future. “Never before have we lived in an age with more imaginary borders,” Sarmiento concludes. It is art such as his that can help us see beyond them. Never before, he adds, has humanity seemed so fragile, unable to generate collective solutions. “Through my artwork, I am seeking to create classics and objects capable of holding solutions or information for future generations.”

    A gallery wall shows two small ceramic wall pieces on the left and a larger text-covered ceramic sculpture on a white pedestal to the right under the title “Samuel Sarmiento: Relical Horn.”A gallery wall shows two small ceramic wall pieces on the left and a larger text-covered ceramic sculpture on a white pedestal to the right under the title “Samuel Sarmiento: Relical Horn.”
    Sarmiento taps into a historical record shared across cultures and communities. Courtesy of Andrew Edlin Gallery

    Samuel Sarmiento’s Ceramics Channel Universal Memory in His U.S. Debut

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    Elisa Carollo

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  • How Artist Alake Shilling Gives Kitsch a Conscience

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    Through her ceramic sculpture, the artist strikes world-weary sentiment into the eyes of nostalgically precious woodland creatures. Photos by Charles White. Courtesy of Josh Lilley.

    Wilshire Boulevard—one of Los Angeles’ most storied and congested streets—yields glimpses of landmarks, billboards and an assortment of Angeleno ephemera, yet none are as faithful to the experience of L.A. driving as the 25-foot-high anthropomorphic bear that has been marooned at the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Glendon Avenue since October. Suspended in motion, the bubble-eyed bear hurtles forward in a dilapidated car, the tearful faces of daisies lining his path. The whimsically sardonic inflatable sculpture quartered just outside Westwood’s Hammer Museum, Buggy Bear Crashes Made in L.A. is the creation of Los Angeles-based artist Alake Shilling, who—despite her fascination with L.A.’s car culture—does not drive.

    Growing up in Los Angeles, Shilling became attuned to the dissonant rhythms and modalities of her hometown—the abject anachronisms, the standardized vanity, the blurry distinction between imagined realities and lived ones. Baptized in the visual legacy of Hollywood, Shilling’s animistic characters—rendered through vivid paints and ceramic sculpture—teem with the wayward sentiment that slips through the cracks of pop culture. In this way, these mawkish woodland creatures are mascots of a new pop culture, conceived by Shilling’s own design. Cuddly, uncanny and wryly melancholic, Shilling’s world of sunshine and rainbows is not always one of smiles and sweet endings.

    The Artist reimagined as Turtle Bug (2025) by Alake Shilling. Photo by Charles White. Courtesy of Josh Lilley.

    “I think my art is a reflection of everything I experience in the real world,” Shilling told Observer. “It’s like I’m making my own alphabet and… the whole art piece is the sentence.” In this way, Shilling conjugates caricatures of kitsch—moon-eyed ladybugs, purple-furred panda bears, baby-blue bunnies—into totems of human emotion and conflict. Her characters evince depths of emotion and vulnerability that very few people are able to express in their everyday lives. Shilling’s candy-colored garden snakes and speckled-shelled turtles do not conform to any degree of respectability or regulation; they exist in a wonderland of relentless sentiment. Shilling, who confessed that at one point her biggest dream was to become a hermit, said she often struggles to find clarity in a city so caulked with rituals of attention. In many ways, her artistic practice is a coping mechanism.

    “I feel like when I speak, people don’t listen, but in my art, I have a voice,” Shilling said. “It’s my world. My characters trust me. They believe in me. They have a conversation with who they are.”

    Shilling’s artistry is, to some degree, a practice in magical thinking. Working from the floor of her cozy living-room studio, Shilling mixes unconventional materials—Styrofoam beads, glitter, cotton balls—into her paintings; she leaves her ceramic sculptures pitted with uneven ridges and scored by carving instruments, evidence of her creative provenance. Shilling’s preference for texture and tactility gives her work a certain vitality. Her ceramic sculptures are particularly spirited, appearing as though they have lived—many of them perch talismanically on sculpted landscapes. A pale ladybug and a purple panda sit on a grassy knoll; a blue bunny and a brown bear rest on a mountainous ridge. They present as contemporary parables, slightly discolored by wear and age, bearing titles such as I had a long day please bring me a snack (2025) and Fashion Is a Lifestyle Said the Purple Panda in Pucci (2025). Shilling explained that her characters are portals of empathy, simple and unmuddled by sociopolitical structures or interpretative metaphors; they are affable and candid.

    Fashion is a lifestyle said the purple panda in Pucci (2025) by Alake Shilling. Photo by Charles White. Courtesy of Josh Lilley.

    Shilling’s work—visually informed by pop culture, cartoons and middle-American kitsch—is in dialogue with the act of interpretation as it exists in the contemporary art world. Like kitsch, the artist relies on audience familiarity and immediate emotional comprehension. Yet Shilling’s work goes beyond the cheap thrills of kitsch by facilitating a sort of psychological transference between the audience and her morose, cartoonish ceramic sculptures.

    “I’m still trying to understand why I’m so drawn to animated characters,” Shilling admitted. “I can sympathize and empathize with what they’re going through. It becomes less about me and more about what the actual overarching piece is like. I can separate myself from the issue and see all the moving parts, but I can only do that if it’s cute. The cuteness is what gives me the empathy I need.”

    The artist’s practice purposely defies clarity, oscillating seamlessly through the spheres of high and low art. This quality, like much of Shilling’s work, is typified by equal parts reverence toward and friction with pop culture. Shilling playfully referred to Buggy Bear—a recurring character throughout her work and her artistic avatar—as her Mickey Mouse. “He’s my trinket!” Shilling proclaimed.

    I followed my heart and it led me here (2025) by Alake Shilling. Photo by Charles White. Courtesy of Josh Lilley.

    To a certain degree, Shilling renders all of her characters with episodic intimacy. They embark on new adventures and experience new emotions in each appearance as though they are protagonists in a Saturday morning cartoon. When admitted to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, the artist had ambitions of going into children’s animation, yet became quickly disenchanted upon learning of the strict rules and restrictions on character design and the intense competition within the industry. Taking inspiration from the grotesque and irreverent artwork of the Chicago Imagists as well as the various quaint, winsome forms of Afrodiasporic folk art, Shilling made the transition into fine art. She had the freedom to not only design as she pleased but to execute emotions and expressions that could have been diluted by animation censors.

    Central to Shilling’s practice is the tender yet indelible belief that complexity can be etched into nostalgic analogs. “It’s like I am writing a really serious, emotional diary entry in Comic Sans,” Shilling joked. “The font is silly, but what I’m saying is real and genuine. And it comes from my heart.”

    I’m a bunny and I carrot a lot (2023-2025) by Alake Shilling. Photo by Charles White. Courtesy of Josh Lilley.

    How Artist Alake Shilling Gives Kitsch a Conscience

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    Mya Ward

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  • Frances Palmer: An Interview with the Ceramicist and Flower Aficionado

    Frances Palmer: An Interview with the Ceramicist and Flower Aficionado

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    Frances Palmer is an art historian who, over the past few decades, has come to make enduring art herself: handmade ceramics that straddle the line between delicate and functional, refined and rustic. Her instant classics are coveted and collected by those in the know (including tastemakers like Martha Stewart and the late Nora Ephron), and they’ve been shown and sold internationally at galleries and exhibitions. But if you take a look at her Instagram page, you’ll find that she has another obsession that may just rival her love for the potter’s wheel: flowers. When she’s not crafting vases, plates, and bowls in her studio (next to her 1860 federal-style house in Weston, Connecticut), she’s likely puttering around her tennis court-turned-flower garden. In fact, her second book, out May 2025, is “dedicated to the subject of flowers in my work,” she tells us.

    Below, Frances shares the natural bug spray recipe she uses on her roses and citrus plants, the garden books she treasures, and more. (And if you’re in London, be sure to check out her latest exhibition, Pedestal Considerations, at the Garden Museum from October 8 through December 20).

    Photography courtesy of Frances Palmer.

    Above: At work in her airy studio.

    Your first garden memory:

    Sitting in a dogwood tree at the edge of our yard where I grew up in Morristown, New Jersey. My neighbor grew many roses, but I wasn’t allowed into her garden to see them, so I would sit in the tree and gaze at them from above. I always felt like Rapunzel yearning to get in and smell the buds. In our garden, my mother grew peonies, tomatoes and zinnias, very practical but not as alluring as the forbidden roses.

    Garden-related book you return to time and again:

    Christopher Lloyd’s In My Garden: The Garden Diaries of Great Dixter and Vita Sackville West’s Some Flowers.

    Instagram account that inspires you:

    @montgomerphoto; @nicholascullinan; @charlestontrust; @gardenmuseum; @floretflower; @bayntunflowers; @oakspringgardenfoundation.

    Describe in three words your garden aesthetic.

    Voluptuous blooms in what she calls
    Above: Voluptuous blooms in what she calls “The Round Garden” on her property.

    Exuberant. Functional. Somewhat chaotic.

    Plant that makes you swoon:

    So many—fritillaria, tulips, bearded iris, roses, peonies, dahlias.

    Plant that makes you want to run the other way:

    I can’t think of one. All flowers have something redeeming about them and one must be open to learning what that is. Maybe more commercially produced flowers don’t have as much soul as home- or farm-grown ones?

    Favorite go-to plant:

    Dahlias from Frances
    Above: Dahlias from Frances’ garden, in bud vases from her kiln.

    I love bearded iris, roses, tulips, rudbeckias, amaranth, zinnias and dahlias.

    Gardening or design trend that needs to go:

    I think that people are finally learning to garden without pesticides and how to strive for healthy soil.

    Old wives’ tale gardening trick that actually works:

    My friend Connie taught me a natural spray for roses and citrus: juice of 2 lemons, 2 tablespoons of potassium, 2 tablespoons of cayenne or cinnamon, 1 liter of water—and spray over the leaves. Good for fungus and bugs.

    Hardest gardening lesson you’ve learned:

    Frances
    Above: Frances’ famous tennis court garden. See Steal This Look: An Old Tennis Court Turned Kitchen Garden for more photos of its ebullient raised beds.

    Every gardening year is different and things can be out of your control. It is most important to be kind to yourself and the flowers and try again the next season.

    Favorite gardening hack:

    I love to fill in bare spots in the garden with coleus. They spread out quickly and add lots of late season color.

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  • Danya Ahmed’s Gray Gardens Plant Studio: Stunning Hand-Crafted Concrete Planters by the Lebanese Artist

    Danya Ahmed’s Gray Gardens Plant Studio: Stunning Hand-Crafted Concrete Planters by the Lebanese Artist

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    I’ve been on the hunt for artful vases all summer—and I think I may have just found the perfect ones. When I spotted the work of artist Danya Ahmed, of Gray Gardens Plant Studio, I was immediately captivated and needed to learn more. Originally from the US, Danya relocated to her ancestral homeland of Lebanon, where she now handcrafts stunning sculptural vases, planters, and bowls that embrace raw and brutalist elements.

    Have a look with me.

    Photography courtesy of Gray Gardens Plant Studio.

    Above: You can choose between horizontal, vertical, or natural texture, as well as one of seven colors (pictured is Brick). All Vases hold water for fresh flowers; $190.

    While you might think these pieces are ceramic, they are, in fact, made from glass fiber reinforced concrete. This material allows for the added height and width, plus the weight of the material helps anchor taller and more unwieldy arrangements (think: branches).

    Danya
    Above: Danya’s background is in fine arts, with a BA in drawing and sculpture and an MFA in fibers and textiles. “While I wasn’t trained specifically in pottery, I guess you can say I had a strong training in motor-muscle creation, crafting things by hand.” These Bucket Planters start at $98.

    Danya approaches concrete much like one would with clay, forming and sculpting it by hand. “Combining the strength of the material, with the sensitivity of the hand, each piece is imbued with its own energy. The vases are a great example of this strength and sensitivity. They have the hand-formed, tactile marks of the maker and their softness is balanced by their weighted down, brute strength,” she says.

    Terra Planters are available in a host of sizes; from $398.
    Above: Terra Planters are available in a host of sizes; from $398.

    When Danya finally started Gray Gardens, she focused on potted plants. “I was making the planters and also planting in them, the pot and the plant were one entity. Creating the planters, playing with the material, texture, shape, proportion and color, as they all combined in relation to the plant was quite exciting for me. It was fun to create for, and respond to, a living thing—something already in existence and natural. Essentially combining my two favorite things, nature and plants, with hand-crafted sculpture; playing with the form of the tree in relation to the planter and vice versa.”

    Danya working on a custom oversized piece.
    Above: Danya working on a custom oversized piece.

    The color palette used in all the work is ten years in the making. After much experimenting and trying out new colors and putting them in context with plants, she still continues to explore. “I introduce new colors seasonally,” she says. “And these stay in production for shorter periods of time, as something fun to play with.”

    Danya
    Above: Danya’s planters can be used indoors or outdoors and each comes with drainage holes. Photograph by Tanya Traboulsi.

    You can find Danya’s wares online at www.graygardens.co/shop.

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  • Guy Wolff Pottery: A Glimpse into the Master Potter’s Studio and Shop in Bantam, CT

    Guy Wolff Pottery: A Glimpse into the Master Potter’s Studio and Shop in Bantam, CT

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    While Guy describes his work as “historical fiction” loosely inspired by the pottery from the past, with no two pots identical, Ben says he wanted to make simple, classic forms, and strives for almost machine-like consistency in his handmade pots; his signature clay hues are a minimalist gray and pure white. 

    Above: Ben Wolff’s grey clay pots on display.

    Through an open door at the back of the original 18th-century building, customers will glimpse the studio, where the Wolffs’ pots are thrown and fired. While Ben maintains his own studio in nearby Goshen, he comes to the Bantam shop and studio most days to throw pots there. “Otherwise, we’d never see each other,” he jokes. (The senior Wolff’s home sits just up the hill from the studio, so his commute is minimal.)

    Father and son, Ben Wolff (left) and Guy Wolff (right), stand outside their shop.
    Above: Father and son, Ben Wolff (left) and Guy Wolff (right), stand outside their shop.

    If you want to buy a pot thrown by Guy Wolff, you’ll have to purchase one in the shop on your visit, but as younger generations are wont to do, Ben has expanded his horizons, selling wholesale to over thirty shops, including Milton Market in Litchfield, CT, up the road and John Derian in New York City, and he also offers ready-to-ship pots directly to consumers (a pastime that bewilders his father). Ben and his wife, who is also a potter, have also experimented with casting in concrete, and customers will find whimsical concrete garden ornaments and minimalist votives for sale. Tucked on a shelf behind the register, you’ll even find small clay bowls thrown by one of Guy Wolff’s grandchildren, a third-generation potter in the making. 

    Wolff Pottery, 1249 Bantam Rd Bantam, CT  is open 12:00-5:00 Tuesday to Sunday.

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