My Top Five Art Accidents

Earlier in the week I tweeted a link to my previous blog post The Shattering, and after sending it I realized someone might read it and say “wait… your worst art accident? How many art accidents have you had?”

Perhaps ceramicists, potters, sculptors etc. are more prone to accidents because they’re constantly moving fragile pieces, and yet I imagine every artist must have accidents of some sort, whether it’s poking a hole in a canvas or spilling a paint in the wrong place. That got me thinking about what my top five art accidents might be, and here they are:

1. The Shattering

What happened: As detailed in my previous blog The Shattering, I overloaded a shelf with too many porcelain plates and it fell to the ground at my feet taking all those pieces with it.

What happened next: I wailed like a banshee. Seriously, my neighbors must have thought many, many cats were dying next door.

Did I learn anything: I replaced my shelf screws with sturdier toggle bolts and I am still rebuilding the broken pieces as part of my Shattered series. My soul still hurts.

2. I Sat On a Plate

What happened: I was working at the table where I paint my pieces in their semi-hardened bisque stage, rotating between four to five plates, and forgot that I temporarily placed a plate on my chair.  I sat on it and cracked it down the middle.

What happened next: In frustration I picked up the pieces of the plate and threw them against the furthest wall in the room. The results were spectacular.

Did I learn anything: I’m tempted to say I learned nothing from this event, but the reality is I look before I sit down now, so that’s something.

3. I Used the Wrong Glaze

What happened: Mark Twain said the difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug. For me, the difference between the right glaze and the almost right glaze resulted in five plates with hazy images and these really weird octopus-tentacle-sucker-pock-marks, which is a good name for the wrong glaze.

What happened next: Wondering WTF I did wrong, I labeled the correct container of glaze very clearly and threw away the not-as-right container.

Did I learn anything: At some point soon I will probably throw these pieces against a wall and they will become part of my Shattered series.

4. I Fired a Large Piece Before the Clay was Fully Dry

What happened: It sure looked dry, but as it turns out this experiment with a large slab to use as a potential backing piece for my Shattered series was NOT fully dry.

What happened next: Again, the results were spectacular. When fired to 2000°F the clay that was still moist inside responded poorly, exploding across the shelf and flinging small bits of clay all around the kiln, resulting in a long and thorough Shop-Vac experience.

Did I learn anything: As with many lessons in working with ceramics: have patience young Jedi. You really need to develop a strong sense of patient anticipation when dealing with clay.

5. I Accidentally Knocked Over Some Bowls

What happened: Early in my ceramic career, during my wheel-throwing days, I created four really cute stackable bowls, and they were a big achievement for me at the time. One day before they had been bisque-fired and were still incredibly fragile (and yet for some reason I had them stacked one on top of another) I accidentally knocked them over and they all got the same divot-style damage on one side.

What happened next: I used a wet sponge to carefully smooth out the broken section on each bowl and create a cute little curved indent along their rims.

WTF: I then proceeded to re-stack the bowls and shortly thereafter knocked them over AGAIN, causing the exact same damage on the opposite side.

What happened next, part Duh: I sponged the new broken areas into smooth curves that looked like maybe, just maybe, I intended the bowls to be created with matching indents on which to rest your chopsticks.

Did I learn anything: My wife and I still use these bowls every day as they have become cherished pieces of our dinnerware. Like the Japanese art of kintsugi, I learned that patience and perseverance can create magic from something that is broken, and sometimes resisting the urge to throw broken pieces against walls can be a good thing.