Artist statement
The ocean is where all life began. The ancient connection between water and sunlight is what gave birth to the first organisms. The vast biodiversity of a single reef is enough to take one’s breath away. Each plant and animal works together in an ecosystem, creating communities that coexist with one another. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement that results in visually rich environments where form, texture, color, and movement stimulates the senses and inspires the imagination.
Evolution is the key to survival, and . Take the Sea Sponge, for example. A sea sponge begins as a simple celled organism that grows through an endless series of interactions in order to become the many different kinds we see today. It is incredible that without even the smallest plankton life would not exist and through influences those first microscopic organisms have become millions of different species.
My work is a reflection of this, manifesting itself into a theoretical evolution that is rooted in the recognition and appreciation of the natural world. I made pieces that were similar to radiolarians, as well as other single celled organisms and as they progressed they became more complex developing into several different series. Through intricate carvings and different textures, my pieces became strange artifacts of an alien sea. They represent the microscopic but ominous struggle where cellular building blocks cannot exist one without the other.
In my most recent series, as seen throughout this book, I have begun to apply new surface techniques. I started growing crystals on the pieces as a replacement for traditional glazing. The result was spectacular, providing a sense of movement and depth that had been lacking in my previous surfaces. This experiment led to the development of smaller pieces whose forms present the viewer with caverns and hills; the crystals create small environments of their own. These works were like a manifestation of the coral reefs and suggest this idea of growth and decay working together to create these beautiful, almost gem-like forms that will continue to grow for years to come.
Brittany Sundheim
Bio
The act of creating gave me hope in a way that nothing else could. In treatment, I thought life was useless and unbearable. Stripped of all rights and drowning in hopelessness, I felt as though I would never amount to anything. When I stepped into a ceramics studio for the first time everything changed. Ceramics gave me a chance to believe in myself and in what I have to offer others. While I had always enjoyed drawing and other forms of art, working with clay was different. With ceramics I could bring my thoughts and ideas to life and give them meaning.
Without ceramics, I would not be alive. That’s not to say I would not be physically breathing; I have developed far beyond my darker days. What being alive means is that to me, I only truly began my life when that first piece of earth was placed so carefully in my hands. For me, being an artist is not a decision. An artist is simply who I am.
After that first ceramics class, I worked hard and received a scholarship to SCAD. Once I realized my true passion lied in ceramics, I transferred to a stronger ceramics program at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. It was at University of the Arts that I worked with renowned ceramic artists. Alex Korros, Liz Stuart, and James Makins taught me how to become a ceramicist. I was able not only to learn new techniques, but also to develop my own work and theories.
The summer before my senior year I attended Alfred University where I was able to really dive into my work. At Alfred, I was transfixed by the dense forests and plants that sprawled across Upstate New York. I was so fascinated by the intricate designs of the plants that I decided to take them, dip them in slip, and burn them out in atmospheric kilns leaving behind beautiful, shell-like forms as seen in figure 1. During their creation I wondered what attracted me so much to these designs. It was in this personal mental exploration that I discovered the key to my fascination lies in connections.
A flower, just like everything, begins with a simple celled organism transformed by an endless series of connections. Without the most basic simple-celled organisms, flowers would not exist; we would not exist. Yet these organisms only form a life of their own and a beauty of their own by connections. Throughout my time at Alfred, this realization, and my burn-out work allowed me to graduate from foundational ceramic work to a personalized style driven by my fascination with and the process of these forms. I realized that clay binds me to nature by exposing its deeper structures. Living plants move me to observe the intricacy and relationship of form. I have discovered a continuity within nature that translates into a broader view that the animated and inanimate in this world connect.
To understand my obsession with this tiny, yet significant realm of existence one must know my past. My past drives my desire to show in my work that every living thing, even the smallest organisms, is necessary for our world to exist. Once I gained the introspection necessary to develop a deeper understanding of myself, I focused more intently on learning, teaching, and mastering ceramic techniques, especially how to throw and build. This taught me what it takes to be a professional ceramic artist. I began to explore microscopic organisms, starting with the single-celled organisms found in plankton seen in figure 2. My work progressively became more complex and developed life-like features. The importance of the connections between each piece relies upon our microscopic world.
During my last year at University of the Arts 2011 I created a solid body of work that expressed my ideas represented as a theoretical evolution beginning with single-celled organisms and slowly becoming more anamorphic. It was in this year that someone mentioned to me the name Ernst Haeckel. Curious, I researched his work on radiolarians and evolution. Haeckel’s radiolarian forms had an immediate impact. From them I synthesized my own style in a solid body of work where each new piece evolved from the previous. The rootedness of my work took on a paradoxical life of its own. The single-celled radiolarian that Haeckel drew propelled my own evolution.
My work progressed from single-celled forms to more-complex forms. My hand-built work included porcelain glazed with Virginia Scotchie, which gave them a coral-like texture. I was reminded of the burn-out pieces from Alfred that resembled fossils. My Paleozoic connections manifested themselves in representations of the smallest cells. My work represents this microscopic but ominous struggle where cellular building blocks cannot exist one without the other. This new work became my signature series.
My series, a theoretical evolution series, has received keen attention from teachers and classmates; who made the evolutionary connection without the benefit of my explanations. The first time that the greater public viewed my newest work, to my astonishment, they were drawn to the essence of my pieces. It was the fire, though, that appealed to me most; the sparks I saw in the eyes of strangers looking at a room filled with the alien-like forms of the earth. It was as though the viewers generated their own histories for each piece they approached. What a confirmation of my ceramic work! I had connected. I had revealed. I had found a genesis. Just as evolution is continuous, so too are the possibilities for form and content that comes with each new skill I learn.
What drives my work is the idea that I can make a difference by showing the importance of even the smallest plankton. In my continuing aim to improve my knowledge, I traveled to Tokoname, Japan to work as a visiting artist at the Keyoe Gama Gallery and Studio. I worked side-by-side in the studio with several other artists and Professor James Makins to create work for an upcoming show. We benefitted from many demos and classes presented by some of the most revered ceramic artists of Japan. Working with new clay, new techniques, and firings, I discovered the significance of ceramics in Japanese culture. Tea bowls for traditional tea ceremonies are each different and imbued with tactile qualities; which made me again re-consider my own work. I had always tried to achieve intimacy through the size of my piece, but had never thought of function as a part of form. With this new insight, I made a series of functional teapots, cups, and other drinking vessels while retaining my sense of evolutionary forms as seen in figure 4. My work was received positively, although the pieces were not traditional thrown work. Most found them intriguing.
Though my education in ceramics is important, it is not the only thing that shaped my work. I am a traveler and never really stayed in one place for very long. I considered the Florida Keys to be my home because I lived there the longest. I have always been a swimmer, in love with the ocean, and I spent most of my time scuba diving. I have dove around the world, including Cayman Islands, Bahamas, Mexico, Thailand, Vietnam, Hawaii, Japan, the United States, and Belize, which is where most of my influences have come from. The ocean is where all life began; it was the connection between water and sunlight that gave birth to the first organisms. The beauty seen in a single reef is enough to take ones breath away. Every plant and animal works together to create amazing communities full of forms, texture, color, and movement. This is depicted throughout all of my work. By creating similar forms through intricate carvings and using certain dry, high color glazes, my pieces become strange artifacts from an alien sea as seen in figure 5.
I broadened my studies from just the microscopic organisms, and Ernst Haeckel, to coral reefs and sea life. Finding documentaries and books on parts of the ocean that I couldn’t see such as deep-sea volcanic fissures. Ideas of new creatures that seem to transcend time flooded into my work changing it to become more reminiscent of fossils and artifacts.
Continuing on this new path, I studied fossils both found and bought around New Mexico and learned that the entire State was once underwater. The thought occurred to me that although I am landlocked, the ocean still finds its way into my life. This brought about my fossil series where I created pieces that would represent my strange creatures in a different way. My textures and forms changed merging remnants of sea with land life as seen in figure 6. During this time I was also looking at works by various artists like William Daley, Liz Stuart, Jun Kaneko, Val Cushing, Ken Price, Virginia Scotchie, Toshiko Takaezu, Stella Teller, and Maria Martinez, to name a few. I also studied Ancient works, Sukiyaki style, and Pueblo Pottery.
I am a descendant of the Isleta Indians, a people who are known for possessing a strong culture of making pieces that tell the stories of the people. Thrilled to learn more about my ancestral past, I delved into Pueblo Pottery and in Native American History. Learning how to work with the earth, how to find the clay and different materials, and working with the land has elevated my ideas about ceramics. These acts provide additional connections; like how the ocean and desert are separated only by time.
Pueblo Pottery has also taught me how close the Native culture is with the earth. I have developed familiarities with new Native cultures and met many people who have embraced and welcomed me. Also learning how to clean and process the materials found into working clay and glazes; like the traditional firings done at Pojoaque. With this new way of working came new work.
The process of Pueblo Pottery is one of the purest acts of connection; the act is more important than the end product. This differs from my previous works. Continuing my general theme of connections, I began making musical instruments, seed pots, as well as more of my evolutionary forms. Being able to dig my own materials has strengthened my ideas in my work. When digging, cleaning, and patiently wedging the clay, I transfer my energy into the material creating a bond with clay that I never had before.
Teaching my own introduction to ceramics class has allowed me to improve as a teacher and student. While teaching I feel like I am learning just as much as my students. It gives me a chance to look at my own practices and make sure it is the right way of working for my students. I am getting a better grasp of working with people through clay and helping them find the beauty in ceramics and in themselves as I have. It is important to me to pass down the knowledge that I have learned and the passion that I feel. The more experience that I get the, better I will be at it.
Hardships once again have shaped my practice and taught me the important lesson that there are always ways to improve my ceramic practice no matter my physical condition. Lyme Disease, which almost rendered me paralyzed, slowly degraded my health during my time in New Mexico. Consistently misdiagnosed with mostly fatal diseases, I was at my worst; living with constant excruciating pain and confined to a wheelchair without knowing what was wrong. This greatly restricted my ability to do ceramics and my overall outlook on life.
Though my situation was grim, I refused to stop improving. Because I could not use my body in the way I was used to, I contemplated improving my surfaces and decided to perform some tests. I started with my burnout pieces growing crystals on them as a replacement for traditional glazing. The result was spectacular, providing a sense of movement and depth that had been lacking in my previous surfaces. This experiment evolved into smaller pieces with caverns and hills , where the crystals developed small environments of their own as seen in figure 8.
The professors at the University of New Mexicohelped pushed my work through my incoming MFA critique. If I wanted to make work that engulfs the viewer like a coral reef does a diver, I would have to build bigger. While looking at my crystal works, each piece created its own environment resembling forests, and coral reefs which made me realize that my work needed to bring the viewer into a different world all together.