Michael Gustavson

By Jane Reichhold  

“Autumn Shadows,” 31 inches (79 centimeters) in height, wheel thrown and altered, raku fired, $3400.

    Can a potter be a financial success without compromising artistic integrity? Michael Gustavson would be quick to tell you that all it

takes is a lot of hard work, many tons of clay and a secret ingredient—focus.

Climbing the few steps to the wide French doors of his white clapboard studio, one can already feel a sense of purpose in the

long, two-story building. Rows of large windows follow the sun from east to west as it swings across the Pacific ocean , which

crashes at the bottom of cliffs below a dip of sea meadows. Inside, every table and surface is filled with great wet slabs and 3-footdiameter

discs that are drying, waiting to be scraped, or holding their pencil-drawn designs for the final application of glazes.

Great vessels stand on tables around the two small electric wheels. These vessels, rising up to 36 inches in height, seem to be giant soap

bubbles that twist and stretch beyond all reason. Even in their raw, unglazed state, the strength and power of their unbelievable

forms captivate the attention of even the most casual observer. Gustavson, whose wide, muscle-bound shoulders reflect the

abundance of his pots, is quick to share his secrets because he views his knowledge as a gift and he knows each person can only

make their own sculpture. He stretches the clay into these shapes as manifestations of his own energy in relation to the spiritual

relationship he has with the world. For the person who discovers Gustavson’s work in one of over

a dozen galleries sprinkled across the United States , it is usually the surface design that is most immediately compelling. Rising up

from a fire-blackened background, the controlled circles, ovoids, triangles and organic shapes in bright reds, oranges, greens, deep

blues and purples shift and move across the surface. Among these colors are the shaded lusters and metallics of raku reduction,and

  “Chromatic Afternoon,” 74 inches (188 centimeters) in width, slab built with glazes, raku fired, $4800.

the lumpy lava crusts that crack open to reveal even more subtle undertones. Here it is revealed that Gustavson thinks of himself

as a painter, but one who makes his canvas out of clay. Nothing Gustavson does is off hand or lacking in focus.

“Looking Forward,” 68 inches (173 centimeters) in width, slab built, with glazes, raku fired, $4800.

He knows production can deaden one’s joy of exploring, so he takes new steps and makes changes in the smallest increments. For

instance, he began to explore a more painterly approach with brushed edges around bright yellows, oranges and reds.

Gustavson has an M.F.A. from San Jose State College. However, he feels schools often spend more time pushing students to

“find their individual voice” and not enough time educating them on the necessity of focusing on a goal or teaching them marketing

skills so they can earn a living in the profession that they went to school to learn. He admits there is a balancing act between what

people want to buy and what an artist wants to make. An even greater achievement is to have found success, and continue to

evolve and develop new ideas. He is always learning from the reality of the markets. Galleries will often put his vessels in their

windows because they will stop the passers by in their tracks long enough to get them to come in the door. And yet, the wall pieces

outsell the vessels two to one—people have more wall space to cover with art than they have places to properly display sculpture.

Both of Gustavson’s children work with their father in all phases, from production to the delivery of items to galleries to the

setting up of shows. Gustavson unobtrusively teaches his kids, even at the openings of other shows. He will first ask, “Have you

looked at everything? Okay, which is the piece that best exemplifies the theme of the show?” Then they walk to each person’s

choice to look at it and regard his or her opinion. Finally, Gustavson opines on his choice and leaves it up to each to agree or

disagree with him. Sometimes the question varies to “Which is the best piece in this show?” or, “Which piece is getting the most

attention?” or, “Which work do you think will sell first?” Gustavson believes in the old-world method of an education, where sons

and daughters are taught their parents’ skills and then encouraged to find their own way.

For more information and more images of work by Michael Gustavson, see www.gustavsonstudios.com.

  Building and Firing

Large Raku Vessels

  To begin a vessel, Gustavson throws a 15–50-pound gumdropshaped wad of Soldate clay into a cylinder and then lets

it spin on the wheel overnight to dry and to allow the clay particles to adjust to the new shape. Then, with rubber

kidneys of various sizes and hardness, he begins from the inside, stroke by stroke, to ease and tease the walls to bow

outward. The old adage that the shape of a vessel comes from the inside is never more true than in the way Gustavson

creates these sculptural forms. This slow process continues until the vessel walls are perfectly thin and sinuous. Sometimes

the neck is completely closed so the organic shape seems like an enlarged, growing amoebic life form. He explains

that no matter how huge the vessel and how often people are told never to pick one up by the lip, someone

will—and he is prepared for them. He adds a flattened coil to the underside of the opening for strength. Sometimes this

edge is rounded and smoothed so the walls appear quite thick. Other times, he leaves the reinforcing collar to imitate

the neck of a t-shirt, so the vessel almost resembles decorative clothing that dances with a ghostly being inside. The

vessels are scraped as smooth on the outside as they are on the inside and are then left to dry.

Now comes the hardest part of all: lifting the large greenware objects down into the 40-inch top-loading kiln. As he

makes the final arrangement, leaning far into the kiln, he either hooks his feet under a nearby table top or has an

assistant hold his legs to keep from toppling in on his pots. He bisque fires the pieces to Cone 06 in one of his two

electric kilns. He uses the other one for reducing glazes with pine needles. No, this is not a recommended procedure, but

he does it anyhow—and it works. After the load has reached maturity, he allows it to cool to below 1000°F (537°C). He

then opens the lid and throws in pine needles. The elements in this kiln do not seem to wear out any faster than those in

his other kiln. He also has a gas raku kiln outdoors where he picks up the glowing slabs to place them in reduction bins.

As fascinating as Gustavson’s vessels are, one cannot help noticing that far more space in the studio is given to the 24–

38-inch slabs of clay. When they are laid out on the floor, covering one end of the building, they seem to be islands of

“Drama,” 29 inches (74 centimeters) in height, wheel thrown and altered,

with glazes, raku fired, $3200; by Michael Gustavson, Gualala , California .

  clay floating over the cement floor or giant, pale lily pads on a pond of white water. Automatically, one looks around for

an immense slab roller and finds none. Gustavson rolls each of these 1-inch-thick slabs out by hand (his favorite technique)

in order to ease and stretch the lump of clay into perfect flatness. He carefully chips around the perimeter of

the nearly-dry slab to get an irregular, organic edge. This technique is a reminder of the shards of a broken, glazed pot

that first gave him the idea to make these works. So precise is Gustavson that he actually draws a pattern to

determine the proper way to hang his multipart wall works. He lays the sections on heavy brown paper, moving them

around until he is completely satisfied with the way the design flows from one to another and the negative spaces

between have gained their own importance. Then he draws the outline of the pieces, making holes in the paper where

the screws will go into the wall so the hangers fit perfectly.