Archives: Articles

During August 2013 Paul exhibited his new stoneware work, including the wonderful crystal glazed pieces and his multi-textured golded pots. The exhibition marked Paul’s first 25 years of making at The Meadows Pottery. The exhibition ran from 2nd – 25rd August 2013

“Very beautiful, wonderful exhibition.”

“A revelation”

Paul Tebble, Potter – Exhibition notes

25 years at The Meadows Pottery and Barely Scratching the Surface

I established The Meadows Pottery in Edinburgh in 1988. I produce diverse, hand thrown, stoneware and porcelain, making traditional pottery and art pieces. This has been virtually my sole outlet for the past twenty-five years, supplying a mainly local market. I was joined here by my partner Junko Shibe in the early 1990’s. I have worked beside her ever since. I have had no formal training or apprenticeship in ceramics or pottery. I learned pottery from the age of thirteen, firstly with the gentle fatherly guidance of Brian McCombe who sowed a strong, lasting seed. Thereafter from John Davey and a few individual potters around Edinburgh, loosely within the Leach tradition. I learned, travelled and practiced for twelve years before starting to trade at the age of twenty-six. I have never exhibited to any significant extent.

From my early exposure to the great ceramic collection of the Royal Scottish Museum I understood the diversity and depth of our ceramic inheritance. But my professional, technical and creative development has taken place in a threefold context. Firstly: working and relating closely with my customers at The Meadows Pottery, with the twin disciplines of making diverse pieces for direct sale and to order. Secondly: my friendships and collaborations with other artists in pottery (particularly Junko) and diverse other fields (be it the written word, music or the visual arts). Thirdly: teaching small groups of motivated and enthusiastic students; a pleasure and an education in itself.

From childhood, time spent on the seashores and mountains of Scotland has proved to be continually relevant to my work. My partnership with Junko Shibe, has led to Japanese culture, pottery and life also being a significant influence on me. This has been given an edge recently meeting Chiyoichi Shimizu, an 8th generation potter from Tamba, Japan.

For me, today, the humanity and the easily accessible, natural quality of the pottery making process, alongside the geological longevity of any finished piece still fires me up. I feel a gleeful awe in the face of the myriad potters of the past 20,000 years, their extraordinary range of work and, over-arching it all, the truly global nature of this ongoing history. Within this context I believe any significant body of work can be diverse, innovative and fascinating. But the work is always ultimately for the person who is using it, holding it, feeling it. It is above all, to warm the heart, intrigue and nourish people. That is the pin-sharp, quiet place, which is paramount.

Pottery is deep in our history, something people have an innate feel for, and to be able to make pots that people may cherish and enjoy is a privilege.

I hope you enjoy the exhibition!

Paul

In September 2011 at The Meadows Pottery we were privileged to receive an unannounced visit from the eminent Japanese potter, Chiyoichi Shimizu. He is an eighth generation potter from Tanbatachikui, the last pottery village in Tamba, one of the six Ancient Kilns of Japan which was studied by Daniel Rhodes in his 1970 publication, “Tamba Pottery”.

By chance a couple of students were soon to arrive for a lesson and Chiyoichi san was more than happy to go along with my request that he demonstrate on the wheel for us. A rare chance to witness first hand a true master of Japanese pottery.

So, once my students turned up, thrilled at the unexpected prospect, an impromptu masterclass ensued . Luckily we have a Japanese “Shimpo” potter’s wheel, which spins in both the western anti-clockwise direction and the clockwise Japanese way. Firstly Chiyoichi san centred a lump of clay about 10–15lb for throwing off the hump in the traditional Japanese way, although in this seated position he was not getting any support from elbows on knees as he would at home in Japan, with the wheel at floor level and sitting cross-legged. This did not appear to effect him one iota, over four decades of experience clearly evident in his touch. (He fired his first Noborikama [climbing] kiln in 1969). He first threw a small traditional Tanbatachikui tokkuri (sake bottle), managing the single toggle Japanese cotton thread cut-off technique successfully enough with our stiffer fishing line. Next he threw a beautifully balanced “Sakura” Cherry blossom inspired bowl with a delicately altered rim, of his own design. Wonderful stuff!

One of the most striking things was not just the clockwise rotation of the wheel, but the completely different overall throwing technique he employed. For example, the relatively narrow base and the very open, shallow dish that the narrow-necked sake bottle started off as.

As with so many Japanese “craft” techniques (for want of a better word), the underlying logic and thoroughness of technical reasoning behind these very different throwing techniques was strongly evident, if perhaps not so simple to understand for the novice. I think this gives some inkling into the traditional Japanese apprentice’s task: watch, gradually, gradually learn to see, truly observe, and predominantly, from that (along with practice, practice, practice) learn what is to be learned (“show me”, in Japanese, means the same as “teach me”). I think this conscientious thoroughness, long associated with Zen, actually predates it in Japanese history and to some extent explains why the Zen aesthetic and philosophy, of calm acute observation of things, as they are, became so comfortably and widely adopted in Japan, despite the relatively low number of adherents to the actual Zen Buddhist sects in the country. This approach to learning also implies having plenty of time to absorb the lessons required.

Chiyoichi san found most of the tools he needed on hand, but I did have to gaffer tape an extension onto the “egote” tool for him to use for bellying out the gentle low shoulder of the final piece he threw. Using the remaining clay, he formed a curious 15” high traditional sake bottle with a small vase form shaped into the neck. Usually made in two pieces, he threw this in one piece, leaving it for me to lift off the wheel later when it had dried off somewhat. While all the requisite camera snapping was going on Chiyoichi san’s final offering was a demonstration of traditional Japanese calligraphy, a Tanbatachikui shrimp design to be left with us as a memento.

This was a wonderful visit, many thanks indeed to you Chiyoichi san!

The Scottish artist Henry Taylor Wyse ran the Holyrood Pottery at Boroughloch Square, not 200yds from us here at The Meadows Pottery. Holyrood Pottery was a rare and early example of a Scottish “art” pottery like our own: the first in an Edinburgh Southside tradition perhaps?

Although HTW was the instigator, owner, designer, and researcher of the business, he did employ a small band of dedicated workers to make most of the pieces, including an experienced thrower, George Griffiths. This is the main difference between ourselves here at The Meadows Pottery and the Holyrood Pottery: we perform all the design, manufacture and business tasks ourselves, employing no one else. We also only sell through our shop, whereas HTW marketed and sold his wares throughout the world.

The Meadows Pottery’s cultural origins come, in part, directly from the Arts and Crafts tradition so strongly established by the likes of Henry Taylor Wyse, so it is with great pleasure and a respectful eye to the past that we are able to link here the manuscript penned by Henry Taylor Wyse in 1943, outlining the history and background of his pottery adventure.

There is also a hard copy of the manuscript available to browse through in our shop if you prefer, so please enquire.

With the kind permission of the Wyse Family Archive.

This Dave Cohen built kickwheel (1978), made to a design by Paul Soldner was the only wheel we used for throwing until the early 1990s. Having taken a pounding for over thirty years it still spins with the vigour of youth.

With minimal maintenance amounting to replacing a few bearing units and some care
of the wooden splash tray, the outstanding design makes for a wheel that can take anything you can throw at it, or at least what we’ve thrown at it!

Over the years a few other wheels have come and gone, and even though we now have a couple of genuinely effective electric wheels, I’m sure the kickwheel will outlast them all. On top of that there are still certain processes which are only comfortably and conveniently possible on the kickwheel.

The wheelhead is wide and unfettered by any high-sided splash tray; an expanse of level marine ply a few inches below the wheelhead is all you get. This enables easy throwing of very wide based pots and the turning of very wide rimmed ones; easily upto the width of our kiln, which is just shy of 24″.

The wheel is designed to easily accommodate all shapes and sizes of potter, with adjustable seat angle and height, wheelhead height, flywheel and footrest height and distance from seat to slip tray (useful for lanky-legged kickers).

It spins so efficiently that you get a reasonable amount of throwing time between kicks up to considerable weights.

Like any kickwheel it does not require any power supply other than your own, but it may be simply rigged to take a motor attached to the flywheel.