randy johnston

Everything about Randy Johnston suggests that he is not just another potter. His work and his aesthetic values, his experiences and the way he has chosen to live affirms his commitment as an artist whose devotion to the ceramic medium is insatiable, challenging and inspiring. In Randy's pursuit of "the good pot" he exhibits a nose-to-the-grindstone attitude that is unwavering in a world where the market prices of ceramics are on the rise and the utopian notion of surviving as a potter is becoming more and more difficult to realize. He continues to make forms which march alone, remaining unique, fresh and lively with little attention paid to fashion or trend.

Randy discovered ceramics at the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis while on his way to becoming a doctor. An elective course with Warren MacKenzie completely changed his perspective and placed him in a class full of burgeoning talent--among his classmates were Mike Simon, Mark Pharis, Sandy Simon, Wayne Branum and Jeff Oestreich. Randy believes that "the contact with Warren brought on a sensibility about the things that one should focus on in life--the indefinable, good, basic and intuitive." Warren's advice to his students was to establish a pottery after graduation. After receiving his BFA in 1972, Randy bought an old house in River Falls, Wisconsin and built a two-chambered wood kiln. The beauty of the surroundings and the idea of being unrestricted in terms of structure appealed to him. Randy remembers that the whole operation got off to a very rocky start. He cut and sold firewood and did odd jobs and construction to pay the bills. Looking back on his decision to open a pottery, he considers it a notion that was "faulty at best" as a sole means of support despite the fact that it resulted in the immediate development of his work.

In 1974 Tatsuzo Shimaoka gave a workshop at the University of Minnesota. Warren invited Randy to a party to meet Shimoaka after the workshop. This introduction allowed Randy to travel to Japan in 1975 to work as an apprentice at Shimaoka's pottery in Mashiko. Time spent in Japan reinforced Randy's commitment to making pots and strengthened his formal approach in making them. The components of each pot were thought about in the context of practice by repetition--practice of line, form and volume. Any practical limitations placed on the ware were not considered restrictive but rather an intriguing kind of problem solving.

Randy also had the opportunity to meet Shoji Hamada while overseas. He remembers their first meeting well. "(I was) walking on the road in front of his house. He was short and balding with tortoise rim glasses. A deep bow from the waist and a big grin, then an invitation for tea or coffee. Hamada, his son Atsuya and I sat, drank coffee and talked about pots and other artifacts Hamada kept bringing out. His propensity to collect folk art was obviously insatiable. His wisdom and deep love for pots will always be an inspiration to me."

Randy returned to the States with grandiose plans for his pottery. During his stay in Japan, he saw Shimaoka's pottery receiving large commissions from department stores for functional ware. Randy saw endless possibilities for such a market in the States. He rebuilt his wood kiln based on the technical expertise he had gained on wood-firing while in Japan. Any expectations, however, exceeded the economic realities which existed in River Falls. His pottery did not support him and today just about breaks even with its expenses. Randy insists that "any person with a normal business sense running (the) place would have shut it down years ago!" His choice to continue to focus on the making of pots despite economic barriers is reminiscent of traditions in Japan where certain activities are highly valued--among them the art of flower arranging and the tea ceremony--even though there is little profit in them. Perhaps this explains why a pottery like Shimaoka's would flourish in Japan yet struggle to survive in the United States. The United States is a significantly younger country where economic choices often outweigh aesthetic ones; thus compromising the full potential of artists and their work.

Japan's long cultural history creates an atmosphere where aesthetics are more seriously considered because support for higher levels of appreciation has been and continues to be developed. The objects embodied in Japanese traditions are an integral part of their observance. Their makers, in Randy's mind, are "keepers of a sacred fire and spirit" that is passed on from generation to generation. In making his pots a priority, Randy sustains an Eastern approach to his work and fortifies his belief that art is an educational and historical link between generations and cultures.
While Randy's idealism has kept his work in constant evolution, it does not pay the bills.

With the desire to secure a full-time teaching position, Randy returned to graduate school in 1988 at the Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville to earn his MFA. After years of alternative full-time work, Randy anticipates such a position with a sense of both freedom and loss. "The positive side of having a job that provides an income is that it frees one totally in the studio to directly assess what is important in clay on a personal level. The negative, of course, is the limited time involvement. I sometimes feel a great sense of loss and a non-development of potential. I think part of being an artist is being insatiably driven to pursue one's work and being frustrated, probably at any level."
For Randy, graduate work was a beneficial experience. "I viewed the time as a personal leave from the constraints and demands of my life at my home and studio in Wisconsin, a period free from obligation. I did not intend to 'rest on my laurels'. The experience provided valuable time for my growth as an artist, and a structure to collate ideas about a whole complex of artistic ideas and philosophical attitudes."

Among these attitudes is Randy's concern that potters today are not putting in the time to study and think about forms but instead are overly concerned with immediate reaction and response. He feels that there has been a decline of good pots because making them requires the learning and skill that many potters are too impatient to develop. Like a pianist, a potter must learn how to create an inflection that is carried through all stages of the artistic process. The capacity for self-expression is continually strengthened by pursuing the mechanics and techniques of the artistic medium. "My daily philosophy is that growth must be the core of existence." Randy related a story which communicated these thoughts. Apparently, Hamada was critiquing the work of a group of students when a young woman brought out her work. The work was young, clumsy, and technically unsophisticated. Hamada paused before he said anything. Finally he commented "when you arrive at this place for the second time you will have made a good pot."

Randy's recent solo exhibition at PRO-ART in St. Louis revealed a new body of work which emphasized qualities of construction and jointure. He addresses the elements of architectural forms in his continued work with the "stacking box." Like small icons of Eastern architecture, these pieces embrace the theme of the pagoda, extending and modernizing the forms of Okinawan funerary urns. The roofs are removable, reinforcing the definition of a pagoda as a "covered resting place" while retaining the capacity for containment. The stacking boxes have most commonly been composed of three interlocking levels but Randy's new work included a quadruple stacking box which is larger than his previous pieces. The grander scale of this piece made it more monumental, more of a statement, closer to a shrine.

Randy also exhibited a number of single stacking boxes which have the qualities of African huts and imply thatched roofs and mud floors. Salt firing creates a surface tension on these boxes which heightens the attention paid to line and volume. The blush created by the fire is strongest in corners and edges, clarifying the lines of each piece and ruling out the need for anything but minimal surface decoration. Randy's new vases and teapots are also architecturally and geometrically inclined. A number of the teapots have rounded shapes which resemble toasters and other mechanical objects. A less linear emphasis is evident in a recent series of platters, each of which is distinct in surface treatment and mood. Randy sees the platters as archetypal forms which provide the opportunity for varied applications of expression. In the same way that Monet's haystack paintings concentrate on one form under different conditions of time and light, the surface of the platter can be infinitely manipulated to express the moods of different environments.

Although these pots stress angular and linear concerns, they avoid being "tight," each corner evidencing a careful and studied touch. Randy regards his feeling for form as a continually developing exploration of formal characteristics that has been honed over time. This development is also a path that can and should be traveled again. Randy finds that looking at much of his older work reveals ideas that were passed by while pursuing others that seemed more important at the time. Accomodating change is a prerequisite to progress; the mistakes and surprises associated with the ceramic process are most important for growth. Randy's intent is to deal with the unknowns and the failures by exploring the zone between what is known and what is felt. "If my work was reduced to a line," Randy says, "then I would say that it's the line and rhythm of that line I'm in search of. The color and blush of the line are a type of poetry that seems a portrayal of my heart and mind."

Randy's sources of inspiration extend far beyond his own work and that of his ceramic contemporaries. His additional interests in writing, art and music strengthen the depth of aesthetic exploration that is evident in his pieces. English slipware, African masks, and medieval vessels influence him as strongly as do Japanese pots, and he is attracted most to the historical or primitive sources of forms in his search for ideas. He also respects the full and expressive feelings in classical work and the concern for line, surface and color found in the work of Brancusi, Duchamp and the cubist painters. In literature, 19th and 20th century writers like Yanagi, Blake, and some of the existentialists use a romantic and expressive language with which Randy identifies. His music interests are widespread, from Shostakovich and Chopin to the Delta Blues and Cajun or Country music. Mississippi John Hurt has been particularly influential. "The rhythms he created out of incredibly simple notes and progressions culminated in a style of music whose power is a complex matter, like that of sophisticated totems or fetishes. I want my pots to have a style that is similarly strong, pagan or tribal in flavor, evocative of ancient civilizations and refreshingly free from the constraints of fashion."

It is the passion with which Randy pursues the making of pots that makes his work stand on its own and inspires others to enjoy and emulate what he does. Deep down he is an architect and builder who is open to the surprises and rewards of clay and fire. His growth as an artist is on a parallel path with his growth as a person; his openness to the spirit of change ensures that many more powerful pots will be shaped by his hands.

Samantha Krukowski is an Associate at PRO-ART, St. Louis, MO