The Craft of Ritual: Getting Down To Earth

This is the first article on my ceramic journey and from this point, I ask that you join me by engaging and interacting, working your own way into my clay!

Kneading Your Response… By Author

We tend to live at such a pace that many of us find ourselves not appreciating who we are, and the connections we are making; how we feel and where we are, both in our heads and in our surroundings. I think it was however my why that drove me to walk away from my teaching job, take a sabbatical and use my inner gyroscope to fathom what anchors me to the present.

At the end of our 850km camino, we attended the pilgrim service and experienced the theatrical sway of the Botafumeiro of Santiago de Compostela - by author

The act of pilgrimage, the accumulation of miles, the connection of culture and the sense of identity took me gradually more east, before bringing me back to the shed at the bottom of my garden, one year later.

Three countries in particular reshaped that why: Spain, Turkey and Japan. The pages of my sketchbook and my photographs revealed how ritual had woven its way around my psyche and given me the inspiration I sought to reignite my relationship with clay.

Basilica Cistern, Istanbul by author

My happy place, once I returned home, was untangling why I was making very specific domestic ware items and not simply mugs, plates and jugs. Like many potters, I wanted my pieces to stand alone as things of beauty, whether in use or not. What has since emerged is my desire for people to connect with my why through the craft I shape; for them to feel that regardless of their disposition, they can find a little space in time, indeed, time in space through interaction with my work, and gain momentum to anchor themselves in their own happy place.

Take a mug for instance, as a teacher I was given plenty over the years; it was always a bit of a joke that staff rooms where everyone had their own mug, indicated the team were disconnected … but I never got that! I had a Little Miss Sunshine mug (I still treasure it) given to me by two lovely mentors on teacher training. Literally every time I used it, I felt an essence of them and how they supported me in the early days. It became part of my feel-good toolkit! That’s precisely the connection I want for my customers. Not sentimental hoarding of objects, but a reminder of those positive vibes that went into creating the piece in the first place.

Ayrmer Cove, a place of ritual for me by author

Where do rituals begin? What triggers their initiation as a beneficial performance? I’m imagining these answers will oscillate with the whys, whos and whens affiliated with them… So stone by stone, article by article, I’m going to shed light on what ‘I’ perceive as ritual, gather visual and narrative notions that in time, will enable me to create ceramics imbued with joy and a natural propulsion to the present.

Initially it was Shinto and Buddhist ritual that caught my eye in Japan, the chōzubachi handwashing stations in front of shrines, the O jizo with red attire sat around temple grounds. Shinto presented as practice and performance, whereas Buddhism was characterised by stories and belief systems. It was hard to ignore these rituals and not take them on. Their raison d’être made sense and in my own way I wanted to honour that.

O jizo near Nagiso by author

Ritual has always been associated with religion in my little world. I remember Sunday mornings as a small child, sat in a dark church surrounded by old people; I opened pages of a small blue book, found the verse on the hymn and hummed along in a monotonous tone with the congregation, never really knowing when the melody was going up a note. It felt like someone else’s ritual, not mine, but yet I felt their benefit. My ritual was walking up to the altar and tarrying around the hot air vent for as long as I could, not letting my skirt balloon too much, and holding up the queue for communion!

As a student, I was enthralled by the architectural journals of the 90s, packed with striking, glossy but muted pages, emblazoned with minimal contemporary Japanese interiors and exteriors. I would tear out my favourites and sketchbook them for later eye-candy. Experiencing these spaces for real last year was momentous; the peaceful domains I’d imagined began to make sense and feel tangible. The more I found out about Japanese life, the more I understood why these buildings enthralled me; from the boundary rock step, agari kamachi to the cubby hole, oshi-ire. Rituals shape our environment, sometimes without us realising. Of course they are incredibly visible in a religious context, but my travels began to unravel the role they play in day to day living.

Kawai Kanjiro’s Ceramic Studio at his house in Higashiyama

Takes from writing today are that I’m not necessarily concerned with making matter for specific ritual, rather that I would like my audience to create their own using what I have crafted for them. Whilst I have taken zen-like lines to my forms, I would like to explore their overall shape and look at the relationship between the thought of ritual and the act… So my question to write about next is ‘What’s the difference between habit and ritual? I love a good list, so I’ll start writing all mine out… Tell me, what are yours?