Hi, it's Chai.
I just delivered my first ever commission to a complete stranger who chanced upon my work at a pop-up event! While I have made pieces for friends and family before, there is a special satisfaction from a commission for somebody who I meet as a complete stranger interested in my art, gets inspiration from my art, and then collaborates with me to realize their vision. So, I thought now would be a good time to pause and reflect on commissions, and whether I would like to continue doing them.
The word "commission" stems from old French from Latin commissio(n- ), which in turn devolved from committere ‘entrust. Here are some of the pieces that I have been "entrusted" with so far:
A dozen wedding center pieces
2 ashtrays with a lighter compartment
Incense/palo santos holder
Multiple plant pots
A Chawanmushi bowl
A sculptural spoonrest
A Studio Ghibli inspired mug
Babbling Brook Sage Bundle Dishes x 3
Slow feeder for puppy
Many artists feel ambivalent about commissions for very valid reasons. The most obvious of these is that commissions may limit the artist's creative freedom, because you are now allowing somebody else's preferences to influence what and how you make. Moreover, commissions entail more than giving up some control over what you make, it also is more work in terms of customer service. In sum, commissions involve extra work and additional constraints. Yet, I personally do enjoy commissions, and I thought I would take some time to reflect on the reasons why they are an important and cherished part of my clay practice.
Pushing My Limits
As a relatively green ceramicist, there are many techniques that I have not yet explored. Commissions often push me out of my comfort zone and force me to refine a design with across multiple iterations of the same item within a short time. Here are a few examples.
If you look through my website or social media, you will notice that I do not do much production pottery, or even functional ware. Even when my pieces are functional (e.g. lamps, lanterns or vases), I like to add lots of details (e.g. handles, appliques, carving, texture, etc) such that those designs are not very "scalable". Even "small batches" would be rather inefficient and difficult to produce. So, when I had to complete a dozen wedding center pieces on a budget that had been intended for purchasing mass produced items off Amazon, I had take an entirely different approach to come up with a simple form that could be replicated efficiently and accurately, and add my artistic touch not in the greenware stage, but when glazing the bisqued form. Most of all, I am fairly adventurous and spontaneous with glazing, rather than precise and controlled. I glaze with intuition, and if I get an unpleasant surprise, I just reglaze.
Because of this commission of wedding centerpiece vases, I made test tiles and took meticulous notes on glaze combinations for the first time - how many layers of which glazes I layered in what order using what method (e.g. pouring, dipping, brushing). I compared test tiles with 2 layers of Blue Rutile on 3 layers of Honey Flux, versus 3 layers of Blue Rutile on 2 layers of Honey Flux. I fired test tiles, then test pieces, before I did batches of the actual center pieces, fine tuning the glaze along the way to achieve something that was varied but also aesthetically unified and in line with the couple's vision for their wedding. Such control and forethought was completely out of character, and I had to go a bit rogue with at least one vase which became the beloved sheep among the family of vases and was gifted to the bride's mother as a keepsake. If you would like to see more of the process of the Wedding Centerpieces commission, check out this Instagram reel:
For another recent commission, my client asked for trays to burn sage bundles in that evoked flowing rivers. I decided to work with those glazes that were runny and/or hues of blue from the wedding centerpiece commission again, but this time I could add more of my usual touch of spontaneity and randomness. After looking at a photo of his family's favorite swimming hole with river rocks, I suggested we add stepping stones across the rivers, around which water could swirl and splash. I experimented with different combinations of glazes on test pieces, and different positioning of the pieces during firing, before finally capturing some of the motion and colors of a flowing stream, the churning and the eddies, and the way it sparkles in the sun and froths when it hits rocks. Prior to this commission, glazing was my least favorite part of creating ceramics. Now, though it continues to be a daunting part that often gives me unexpected results, I know from first hand experience that it is "high risk, high reward". If you would like to see more of the process of the Sage Bundle Dishes commission, check out this Instagram reel:
Honing the Craft of Customer Service
Truth be told, even when a commission is safely within my comfort zone and something I have achieved before and can reproduce easily, my skills are still stretched. That is because commissions also require skills outside of the studio. I am still grappling with many of these skills, and do not have many answers to share, but I can make a (non-exhaustive) list of questions I have asked others and myself in making commissions:
How do I help customers explore and articulate what their vision is for the commissioned piece?
When and how do I say no to a commission?
How should I structure opportunities for client input, so that I (a) set realistic expectations (given the time, resources, as well as nature of your medium), (b) honor their preferences and vision and (c) stay true to my own aesthetics?
How much information should you share in what way, so that customers understand your process and the possibilities it affords, without boring or overwhelming them with technical information?
How do I price commissions, especially when I do not know how much trial and error it might take to complete the item, and when much time is spent not just making it, but researching, troubleshooting and communicating?
How can I instill an appreciation for handmade art that takes time, effort, trial and error, and is often imperfect, when most people are used to mass-produced, standardized products that are delivered the next day?
While I am still figuring things out, the short but ambiguous answer to all of them seems to be "it depends" - on the client's pre-existing knowledge of clay, their budget, their interest in collaborating vs entrusting me with the piece, the technical challenge of making the piece and many other factors. That's what makes commissions even more fun for me - the challenge goes beyond the studio, and the learning never stops.
Learning to Let Go
At some point, I would like to write a whole blog entry just about attachment between the artist and the art. In the context of commissions and why I enjoy them, I will just say that commissions offer me certainty. Every commission starts with the understanding that the piece will ultimately be given away. This makes it easier to let go of a piece I've invested weeks into, without knowing if or when it will get sold or given away.
More importantly, in the process of collaborative creation with the. client, I gain a deeper understand of the client, and what this piece means to them (e.g. their aesthetic preferences, what inspired the commission, perhaps a loved one of theirs they want to gift the piece to). Likewise, the owner of this piece will gains deeper understanding of the time and effort put into creating the piece and hopefully values it more as a result. I hope that, just as I become attached to pieces I spend more time making, they will also get attached from witnessing and providing input throughout the creative process. Giving a piece away is much like giving up a child for adoption to me - knowing that it is going to a home where they will be loved helps me let go more easily!
From "Process over product" to "Potter = Product"
Over time, commissions have given me new perspectives through which to view my clay babies and clay practice. At first, it was an additional push to shift my focus from product to process. Ceramics in general will do that, because pieces may not make it to the final state of completion for many reasons - cracking, breaking, glazes running etc. You learn that you can only do your best and hope the kiln gods are kind to you, and move on and try again if something goes awry in the making process. Commissions simply take this to the next level - even if you beat all the odds and your piece comes out fine (or great!), you don't get to keep it. Once completed, it will be somebody else's to enjoy. If I am to enjoy the piece at all, it will be during the making process. Clay helps me let go of control and expectations, commissions help me detach from the tangible product. If anything, sometimes when I am nearing the completion of a piece, I feel conflict between two urges. On the one hand, I am excited as I approach the finish line, anticipating the final result. On the other, there is an urge to slow down and savor my moments with the piece, similar to how, as a reader, I sometimes "ration out" the last pages of the last chapter in a cherished book series.
Lately though, I reflected on commissions some more and realized that they have reframed my understanding of "product" to the tangible clay object, to the intangible skills and knowledge I gain as a ceramicist. While I shape the clay, I also shape myself, and whereas a commissioned piece will eventually "arrive" at completion, my growth and evolutions as a ceramicist is endless. If I view the product as myself instead of the clay objects I make, the making process never has to end. I imagine myself as a piece of clay on a pottery wheel, and each piece that I make as a ribbon of clay that gets trimmed off, or a fragment that gets carved off - all byproducts in the making of the actual "product" - myself, the ceramicist. My techniques, knowledge, instincts and aesthetics...all in a constant state of becoming. I make art out of clay, but the clay makes an artist out of me.
Happy 2024, I can't wait to see what I become in the studio this year.
As always, keep Chai-ing:)
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