Ken Matsuzaki: Looking for Shapes The Clay Deserves
In my walks, every man I meet is my superior in some way, and in that I learn from him.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Two years ago I was sent a list of participants for an upcoming workshop, and was surprised to see the name of a friend, Mitch Lyons. “How wonderful,” I thought. “We’ll be team-teaching,” then realized he and Meredith Wakefield signed on as class members. When we greeted one another the first day, he said shyly, “Yea, Jack, we just wanted to be in your class.” I was humbled and grateful to share daily studio time with them and we all benefited from his occasional demos.
When Mitch passed away this past spring, being part of his memorial gathering made me realize I couldn’t remember taking a workshop after teaching so many, and vowed, in Mitch’s spirit, to sign up for some in the future. When Ken Matsuzaki’s workshop coincided with the cooling of our summer firing, I enlisted, along with my partner, Carolanne Currier, and Elena Renker, a New Zealand potter we were hosting.
Mr. Matsuzaki, who was born in 1950, came to Alison Palmer’s studio, in South Kent, Connecticut, from an anagama firing at the New Hampshire Institute of Art, following an exhibition opening, , at Pucker Gallery in Boston. His father was a painter, and he grew up among artists, becoming attracted to ceramics at age 16. He authenticates the head-start/privilege any young person imbibes of art engagement can impede our early development as we struggle to justify so foreign an impulse in the company of those whose understanding of art may be limited to its correct spelling).
