Form over function

In the world of applied art, ceramics are the most closely aligned to utility – as often associated with crockery or pottery pieces as with fine art. Clay, as the ever-malleable base, can yield any number of creations, shaped not only by the hands of a ceramist but also his or her vision and intent. With two ceramists awarded the prestigious Arts Foundation Laureate Awards in recent years (Merilyn Wiseman in 2007 and John Parker in 2010), the discipline is increasingly coming into its own: acknowledged, celebrated and collected.
These days, galleries display any number of more conceptual ceramic work – pieces that place ideas and aesthetics before day-to-day use, even if they borrow the recognisably domestic shape of a vase, dish or jug. Domestic-ware, meanwhile, can be both useful and aesthetic. Is it possible – or even necessary – to draw a line between utility and art?
“The two are not necessarily mutually exclusive,” says Wellington-based ceramist Sue Scobie. “[Nonetheless], you can get a jug churned out by the thousands which is purely functional and has no redeeming aesthetic qualities. Alternatively, you can get one which has been handmade and decorated in a way which invites close contemplation by the viewer... it may also be a great pourer – or not!”
Or, as Katherine Smyth points out, in forming the question a distinction has already been placed between art and functionality. Smyth worked as a chef for eight years before attending the National Art School in Sydney; she wanted to make the sort of pots she would like to use. These days, Smyth produces lines of domestic-ware as well as the jugs and vases displayed in Avid Gallery: elegant pieces of disarmingly simple shape, the surfaces textured with a finely observed glaze detailing.
The appeal of ceramics is manifold. “I like playing around with substances,” she says. “I like to get to know the nature of things and then play around with mixing and matching and forming.”
Scobie, a full-time ceramist since graduating with a Diploma in Ceramic Arts in 2009, is also drawn to the tactile aspect of ceramics. “There is something about working with clay that I find all-absorbing,” she says. Her work combines different clays, the translucency of fired porcelain contrasting against gritty, opaque stoneware. She constructs mainly by hand: first pinching and coiling, then scraping back to refine surface and form.
The final pieces recall the shapes of shadows rolling out across the hills: an underpinning weight against lightness of being. Textured layers rest atop each other like strata. It is little surprise that Scobie finds inspiration in the colour, light and movement of the natural world as she works patiently to capture “a sense of New Zealand’s wild spaces”.
This, perhaps, is what elevates a piece into the realm of art: the intent and thought of the artist matched by the beauty of form; a story it hints at, and evokes. There is appeal in the combination of these elements. And, ultimately, it is the appeal of a piece that means the most. As Smyth says, “I make work which aims to appeal to human nature... I want people to like and buy, [to] use or display my work.”