Ajuma Pottery

I came to Korea with the goal of studying ceramics. I did not know if I was going to be able to make work, observe, or just try to take in everything I could from this ancient practice. I was lucky enough to meet artist and teacher Kim Sang Ho through a friend at a high school after school class. Mr. Kim invited me to his weekend pottery class but warned me that it would be mainly house wives and older woman. Not even considering this, I excitedly accepted his invitation and wandered into Busan National University of Education's Art department.

I found the small ceramics room full of hard working older woman, who inquisitively accepted me into their class. Mr. Kim explained that I was an artist from Chicago, and that I would be making work with them on Saturdays from now on. None of them spoke English, and all of them were very confused at the way I went about working. In this class, the woman make replications of traditional pottery in the Korean style. This means that everything is very straight, very precise, and very touched until it is fired. They are very mathematical and give themselves no flexibility in design. They see a picture and they copy it.

Therefore, when I came in and just started throwing they were very confused as to my "plan". They were even more confused as to why I was sticking my fingers in the side of my pieces to create bumps, creases, and bulges. Now, whenever anyone messes up a piece or by accident creates something that wasn't planned, they call it "Jennifer Style".

The Ajuma (middle aged) pottery class is every Saturday from 11-6pm, which is a great chunk of time to be productive. It also acts as a Korean immersion class for me. Every day at noon the lead ajuma, who looks and speaks like a Korean Rosanne Barr, asks everyone what they want to order for lunch. Then, when lunch is delivered, we all stop working, clean off a table, and eat lunch together. Usually the menu consists of kim-bop, Kimchi Jeegae (kimchi stew), and Bi Bim bop (rice and veggies). I usually sit in silence trying to pick out bits of the conversation. Mr. Kim always gives me 2 extra pieces of Kim-bop and proudly says "dessert!". I smile and say "kam-sam-nee-da" (thank you).

We all sit at the table until everyone is finished eating and then quickly take all of the dishes and put them in the hall way. In Korea they do not have disposable dishes. The motorbike delivery man brings a big metal case filled with regular dishes with food in them. Then, you eat the food and put the dishes outside your door. The delivery man is responsible for coming back and retrieving the dirty dishes. So there is little to no waist.

So..... after a traditional Korean meal, I go back into the world of traditional Korean ceramics. This would be quite peaceful aside from the lead ajuma who loves to grunt, preach, gurgle, and scold the class constantly. It's like Rosanne being in the class only not being able to understand a single thing she says. So, I have been driven to wear my head phones which makes things much more productive and peaceful.

Another thing that is stunting my progress in the studio is the lack of organisation and shelving space. Everyone seem to go head to head for a place to put their stuff. There is no designated area for anything so at the beginning of the class, if I sense I will be productive I have to scope out where I can put the things that I make. If I forget this part, by the end of the class all the shelves are taken, and I have to stand up on a wobbly stool to put my things up on the top of the cabinet.

The glazing and firing is a totally different story. Since the woman are so meticulous about what they make the production level is very low. They sand, and poke, and manicure every piece until all of the moisture has evaporated out of it. Then they sand it some more. I admire their patience and their perfectionism, but I don't have either of those. I enjoy the imperfections and the immediacy of working in clay, so it's contradictory to the way I work, but I'm trying to incorporate as much of their patients as possible.

The glaze room is a small room with a spray booth and hundreds of unmarked buckets. There is raw material everywhere and nothing has a place or name. The whole class glazes as a group, and Mr. Kim comes out with 4 glazes. He says that the glazes are black, white, clear, and celedon (light green). These are the traditional Korean glazes. While at Alfred, and in Chicago I was responsible for glaze testing and creating many types of glazes with many variables. Application of these glazes is very important and I am used to painting, spraying, dipping, pouring, and stamping. Glazing is as or sometimes more important that the creation of the wet form, so it is very important to think through the application process. In this studio, glazing is a repetitive task that does not carry much importance. Every piece is dipped in a glaze that is much too thick for normal application and then set aside for the kiln. The idea of painting, decorating, or doing anything else in the glazing process is completely out of the questions. The ladies stared in amazement one day while I watered down some glazes and then painted some designs on the pieces. This was against traditional Korean ceramics which was totally taboo.

This being said, production and evolution of my work has not been very successful. But it has been an opportunity to communicate, learn, and be included in a Korean classroom. It will be very exciting to go to my next studio and tell stories of preaching ajumas and their over worked traditionalist pottery.

I was and I am very happy to have the opportunity to create ceramics in Busan, but as I explain it to Jared, I feel like it's wanting to go on a bike ride but only being able to ride a stationary bike. There is no creativity, no questions being asked about the form or design, there is no personal expression going on in this studio. This is where I have become frustrated. For a time, I tried to find pleasure in absorbing some of the traditional decoration into my work, or I have tried to create some of their forms. But, the reason I make work is to incorporate the creator into the piece. I make work so the body feels comfortable living with the piece. Therefore, trying to work in the same fashion as they do, creates a big problem, and is contradictory to my whole philosophy. I have dabbled in trying to put some of their traditional graphics on my thrown pieces, but the marriage of the two doesn't seem to fit.

On the other hand, I feel like once I leave Korea, some of the traditional motifs and forms may come back and have a presence in my work. I have learned different ways to build things, things that have been made the same way for centuries. I have learned a lot about how to exactly and precisely create a design on to a piece and how to be patient with my work. It will be exciting to step away from Korea, think back, and see what types of forms and ideas come to surface.