Tortured Turns of a Potter's Wheel

I

MAKING POTS at Harvard is a special kind of madness.

A group of students and a studio potter, laboring in the obscurity of Briggs Hall basement, have transformed a defunct kitchen into a pottery of professional quality.

"We're doing something unique here," says James Rippe '69, the potter who initiated and now heads the program. "We're providing a high-quality studio arts program for everyone in the Harvard community. Despite a lot of rhetoric, the University has done almost nothing to support the practicing arts." The University's attitude curtails--by outright neglect--the amazing student interest in creating something tangible, a clear by-product of pottery work. For students interested in experiencing art firsthand rather than through the work of others, a deep frustration exists over the lack of Harvard facilities and programs.

In its brief existence, the pottery has become a kind of haven for the disaffected; for people seeking alternative means of communication; for people wanting to work with their hands; for people angered by Harvard's rigidity. With little advertising other than word of mouth, the program's enrollment jumped from 35 in the fall of 1970 to 98 this fall. Registration for the spring semester is running ahead of the fall, and soon the pottery may be forced to abandon its policy of unlimited registration because of space constraints.

"I'd hate to limit enrollment," Rippe said, "since the lack of structure and restriction is integral to what we're doing. Many of the students who make pots here are either intimidated by the prospect of taking a course at the Carpenter Center, or couldn't get into one. I think its important for us not to throw up barriers; everyone at Harvard should have the chance to participate in this type of studio program."

RIPPE'S COMMENT implies that there should be University studios for the other practicing arts, following a model similar to that of the pottery. This would be difficult, however, through any existing organizations. For example, the House system set up small programs open only to House members, which tends to fragment and duplicate efforts in this area. House art programs tend to be someone's part-time responsibility, run haphazardly as a recreational activity involving very few people. Moreover, Houses don't have the funds to support a quality workshop. A high-quality program needs an experienced person to organize, supervise, and take responsibility for the overall direction of the program.

The response to the growth of the Briggs pottery indicates the need for these high quality programs, and its ease of functioning suggests it as a model for similar studios. But the pottery's struggle to survive with almost no formal University support calls for a re-examination of Harvard's position on the practicing arts. No program can endure on stamina alone.

II

ALMOST FROM the beginning the pottery was a fluke.

For over ten years, student requests for a pottery gathered dust on various desks around the University. When the Briggs-Barnard kitchen was discontinued in 1970, and that space became available, students again asked for a pottery. The idea received support but no action was taken until Rippe, who since graduation from Harvard has been a studio potter, offered in the summer of 1970 to set up and supervise a studio.

In response to this offer, President Bunting bent the tutor system to give Rippe the status of resident potter in South House, as well as a $1400 grant to set up the studio.

"Most potters I know have an avocation of collecting junk," Rippe mused, "but trying to set up a whole studio for $1400 made a part-time interest in junk yards into a firm commitment."

The only item that the studio has even purchased ready-made is a small electric kiln. Everything else has been either built, borrowed, or found. Rippe has built all seven potter's wheels--four at his own expense--and a small raku kiln for special firings. Instructors and students have built shelving, work tables, plaster tables, and all other equipment for the studio.

Moving into an old kitchen made life somewhat easier. The large number of sinks and shelves common in a kitchen were immediately useful to the potters. A large bread dough mixer pronounced dead by the Food Services received a new set of gears and has mixed over 30,000 pounds of clay in its new career. The large gas service and exhaust system is being converted to fire the gas kiln presently under construction.

"I think that walking into a situation which had almost nothing, and having a group of students who had never made pots before worked to our advantage," Rippe said. "We have had to make things that most people take for granted, and in the process, many students have not only extended their technical skills, but more importantly, their own sense of competence. I have students who now have the capability to set up their own studios when they leave here."

Examples of resourcefulness abound in the studio. Sally Glazer '72, the technical assistant in charge of the clay room, mixed as much as 600 pounds of clay a week during last semester's peak periods. The purchase of large quantities of studio clay, and the careful use of recycled scrap, meant that Glazer could keep the cost of clay under a nickel a pound. Since ready-mixed clay costs two or three times this amount, the studio saved over $600 on clay for the first semester.

A second, equally striking example, is the almost-completed gas kiln. Commercial models of comparable size cost in excess of $5000 plus shipping and installation. Rippe designed the kiln himself, and students are assisting him with its construction. He estimates that the kiln--which will be paid for by student registration fees and a loan--will cost less than half the retail price.

According to Rippe the monetary saving is only a secondary objective. "The real importance of making our own equipment, clay, and so forth," Rippe said, "is to involve students in the total process of making pots. Finding that they can master the whole process gives people an exciting new sense of competence and confidence. Many students have commented on the importance of an opportunity to become more competent and familiar with tools and with using their hands."

Peter Hirsch '72, the technical assistant in charge of the kilns and firing, calls the opportunity to build things the "chief attraction"--for him--of the pottery. "I like to have an initial concept and be able to follow it all the way through. In the studio, this means being faced with a problem, figuring out how to solve it, and actually building the piece of equipment to do the job."

III

DESPITE THE POTTERY'S sustained effort to emphasize the necessity of making equipment, the pottery wobbles on a shaky financial underpinning. All daily operating expenses, including clay and glaze supplies, are paid for by each student's $30 per semester studio fee (contrast this with $75 for instruction in a local commercial course, which doesn't include supplies). With the exception of the initial $1400 allocated to set up the studio, the $30 fee is the only income used for supplies. The only direct financial support has come from South Hose -- Rippe's $1000 salary--and the Radcliffe gym. which contributes several hundred dollars each semester to help pay the three additional instructors.

Rippe concedes that a certain amount of the potter's appeal derives from the fact that it is outside the University's regular activities. "There's a certain romantic vision attached to the myth of the impoverished artist. But that's what it is--a myth," Rippe insisted. "It is possible, perhaps, that another full-time workshop like the pottery could arise at Harvard with as little financial support as we have had. What's more unlikely is that a really vital studio--one that strives to offer more than just a pleasant diversion--can keep going without a concrete commitment from the Administration to partially fund the program. President Bok has vowed to support the practicing arts at Harvard; I'll be interested to see if his statement results in any positive action to student demand for expanded studio facilities and instruction."

The people who use the pottery come from all over the University. When it comes to making one's first pot, there's no distinction between faculty, students, and employees. Everyone struggles together; common toiling over a lump of clay levels academic distinctions.

Studio members share one characteristic--most have never made a pot before. For this reason the classes offered are especially important; they help get people started. Rippe feels that examples of good work, and good facilities, are also vital in helping students to progress. "Working with clay is such a new experience for most people at Harvard that no tradition of making really fine pottery yet exists," Rippe explained. "That kind of tradition is necessary in teaching the use of clay. Often you learn more by watching good work than by asking innumerable questions. But to reach that point where students inspire others is going to take a couple of years."

Rippe calls the construction of the gas kiln a major improvement in the pottery's facilities. The addition of the gas kiln makes the pottery as well-equipped as most art school ceramics departments. A student will now be exposed to the full range of possibilities that the best professional potters have at their disposal.

IV

ONE IS STRUCK by a sense of other-worldliness upon entering the Briggs pottery. The sense of illusion is further heightened if it's two in the morning and several people are quietly making pots. And yet, for almost 100 people, the pottery is a world which offers direct involvement and adds enrichment to their lives--something they have found nowhere else at Harvard.

But this type of project cannot happen without the direction of a professional artist, with a professional commitment to the studio. This is not to say that such a studio should be geared to the professional; rather, that students who want to pursue an art should have the opportunity.

This is the type of program at the pottery. Most of it could never have happened without Rippe's own personal commitment. But Rippe's dedication cannot be maintained without a reciprocal commitment from the University. If the practicing arts are to be considered a legitimate activity at Harvard, the University must designate funds to keep the pottery going, and must initiate other studio arts programs as well. Operating as co-operative workshops, located within the Houses but open to all, studio programs would involve minimal cost and maximum interaction among students. The basic expense to Harvard would be in salaries, some capital investments in equipment, and possibly an administrative official for planning and review of the program. With this commitment, a series of long-overdue studio art programs could be established to provide for direct, participatory artistic experience--an experience still lacking at Harvard.

Margie McKenna '70 is assistant to the Director of the Health Services.)