On education

On Monday, we paid a visit to the Centre for Glass and Ceramics at The Danish Design School (formerly know as the Bornholm School of Ceramics and Glass). The school, now part of the Denish Design Scool of Copenhagen, goes back to 1997, when it started bare-bone in a former canning factory office building. As the first students were settling in, the studio wing was still under construction. This way, the faculty and the students designed a building to their exact needs in collaboration with the architects. The story goes that in this first year, the small lake behind the school was drained to find the exact stone in the former quarry what was needed for a restoration of an important monument in Copenhagen. Before the blast was about the happen an evacuation warning went to the school and the students had to drop blowpipes and plaster molds and get out.
The school buildings are a marvel: single floor, lots of glass, two parallel hallways (a "theory" and a "workshops" wing) spreading out long in the middle of what could be described as a park complete with a pond and an apple orchard. Being in the building feels like being both inside and outside at once. The facilities are amazing! Each student has a desk/workstation, set in rows like the cubicles in a megacorporation's office.
There are only 75 students with 2 full time faculty in each of the two areas: glass and ceramics. DKDS is proud to be a design and craft school. According to professor John Gibson, who generously showed us around and explained the program structure and the teaching philosophy: the goal of the school is to maintain and further the design and craft tradition with the ceramic medium. By default, most students produce functional ware or other need oriented products. In the three years of study (for a bachelor's degree) they have repeated exercises to identify a need, research materials and formal/technical solutions, and design for it. The way of teaching is also interesting: during a semester, there are several workshops on special topics by guest teachers. Monday is always theory for everybody and the rest of the week is studio. The faculty has very high contact hours (28! - if I remember correctly) with he students. Since the school is small and in a very remote area (again, Bornholm is an island, farthest away from mainland Danmark) the students hang out around the school all the time, working, socializing, eating (there is a fully equipped kitchen and a large dining hall), beer drinking. Most graduates go on living in Bornholm, at least part time, and continue with their studio practice. For those who want to continue, there is a master's and a PhD program in Copenhagen. This is the place for fine art, the undergraduate education beeing simply for learning a trade well. Did I mention, that each Danish student admitted to a school (there is an entrance exam, portfolio review and students usually come with work experience in the field) gets a 5000kroner/month stipend from the government? This is for 6 years!

After our visit to the school and especially after my presentation, I've been meeting with students and alumni who wish for more freedom in their practice. Listening to these young people, I'm very sympathetic. I'd also come from an education system where rules were stifling all that did not fit in with the official line. So different from our school education structure in the States! On one hand, I see a lot of sense in the Danish structure: learn the craft and the material, get an experience with practice as a professional, and only then you are ready to take the work to any place you wish. But, on the other hand, I think this feeling is stronger: rules are results of arbitrary chain reactions of history, tradition, and access. Consequently, they are meant to be broken. ...if for nothing else but for trying and seeing what happens. I find a lot of value in learning a material well (I wish our students in general were so well prepared!), but also in abandoning it if does not fit the idea. We all agree that even a craft work needs concept. Where we differ is whether this is found in the subjective intention or in the utilitarian purpose. I've been thinking since Monday on what makes a good work of art or craft: to put the conclusion in the most simple way: if heart, brain and hand equally participates in the making the outcome is most often good, and it does not matter what "category" it belongs to.

Rocket launch

So, here is the talk of the town: A private Danish space-ship built to launch one person into suborbital space is just out in the harbor (that is Nexo's harbor). Streams of people have been visiting for days to take photographs of the home-made rocket, the barge it will be launched from, and a tiny submarine (also home-made) that will be towing it out to the sea. The launch is scheduled to take place tomorrow (weather permitting) and although it will not be visible from the land, this is the most exciting event of this week in this small town.

See more here:

http://www.space.com/missionlaunches/private-danish-rocket-suborbital-launch-update-100830.html

Rocket launch set for Saturday

Published 02.09.10 10:00

The home-made rocket was produced by Peter Madsen and Kristian von Bengtson of Copenhagen Suborbitals and has been transported by submarine - another of Madsen’s projects - from Docken in Copenhagen to an area just off the coast of Nexø on the Baltic island of Bornholm.

The rocket, named Heat-1X7Tycho Brahe, is nine metres tall, weighs 1.6 tonnes, has been financed by a group that includes 25 companies and 1,500 private individuals, and built by the duo with the help of a string of volunteers.

The duo had been given permission to launch the rocket between August 31 and September 17, but Madsen has now said he expects the launch to be possible this Saturday, if weather permits it.

Stick structures made from clay

Using the material budget available to us, resident artists, I wanted to try a few different clay bodies while in Bornholm. On the island, archeological findings recovered pottery fragments going back 6000 years. In the 1700s and 1800s, the place was one of the centers of pottery production and export in the north. The industry ebbed and flowed, and just around when it went into its final death spiral, in the 1970s, studio potters started populating the island, at some point reaching 100 practicing ceramists. The biannual European Ceramic Context conference is meant to be injecting fresh blood into this history.
The reason for pottery on the island is, of course, clay in the ground. No longer mined, there used to be a grayish-light brown stoneware readily available here. I've heard talk about a secret spot where some of this clay (bluish color when freshly dug up) can still be found. I asked our technician, Jacob, to find me clay in Denmark that is recognized in Bornholm as local, and I've receiver 400Kg of a coarse light brown clay (full of "chamott") And of course, some porcelain.
I got to work right away with the porcelain, which turns out to be very plastic and forgiving in this country. Its color will not be a pristine white as the bone china I used last year was but it feels really great in the hand.
Of course, simple, easily manageable things are of no interest to me. I'm using the porcelain to recreate a house of card structure of little extruded coils (kind of like slim porcelain sticks) that tether on the verge of collapsing. So far, saving some instances of my clumsy fingers knocking a few sticks off, I've managed to complete several test pieces, get them through drying without falling apart, and load them into the kiln. Right now, the first tests are being fired to 1260 degrees Celsius (about cone 9). This week, I've also finished 2 actual pieces, building them larger with the help of a cardboard box. This project could still have a lot of potential, but I'm also eager to move on to a very different project, one that actually has something to do with the exploration and experience of the surrounding landscape, architecture, and history. So, stay tuned for the details... Here is a picture of my two traveling companions.

Distances

Since my injury I have found a new respect for distances. Before, going out for a 6-8 mile run was everyday, thought nothing of it. Neighborhoods explored, errands taken care of, distance conquered on foot. I took all of this for granted. My sense of freedom was very much the result of a belief that, no matter what, I can always outrun or out-walk any kind of sticky situation. Come to think of it, it's more like I can always run away, using my own devices, my own body.
A lot has changed in the past months: my devices now seem a lot weaker and a lot more unreliable that I'd thought. I'm not allowed to run or even to walk for longer than 4 miles and although repeatedly trying, it always proves to have consequences in the injury flaring up badly. So, I've been trying to bike to get the same sense of freedom, but the bike is fundamentally different. It's just simply not part of my body. Maybe it can become over time, but as a physical activity biking is not the same flavor as running. The kind of wonderful blend of focus and relaxation, effort and natural rhythm, exhaustion and exhilaration that I would always get from running does not exist on the bike.
My plan, coming here, was to explore the island on foot, by running like usual. Then, I got injured really bad... The island of Bornholm is sewn together by bike paths. Some more dedicated than others but all are generally very good and convenient, taking riders and commuters through the rolling landscape of fields, forests, and little towns.
Now, my only device for exploration is the bike. That's why I was so happy to spot a few runners this morning along the road among the fields. It turns out that there is an ultra/marathon today, with various distances of 100Km, 50Km and a marathon (42.2Km). The runners I caught up with were all men, mostly what seemed like, in their 40's and 50's, about 300-400m apart, going with a steady pace. Amazingly enough, it took me very long to catch up with them, which even though I'm not a serious pedaller, means that they were running at a pretty good pace 8:30-9min/Mile. In an ultra!
And talk about the loneliness of a distance runner! These guys were in the middle of the fields, running dozens of miles all alone; no cheering crowd, no course marshals, no support of any kind. Encountering them made me so happy! I was pedaling from one to the other yelling "great job!"-s left and right. I'm sure they though I was some kind of a nut! Through them, vicariously, I felt I was running too. And then, it started raining. For a while huge black clouds had been hanging around. Just before it started raining the sight across the fields was amazing! Sun pouring down trough some rips in the cloud cover, like pixie-dust settling on the farmland, making it glow and sparkle. Between cheering on the runners and the rain on my face, I finally had a sense of familiarity in my own body.
I was poring over these thoughts when a hare run right under my front wheel. I had to break pretty hard not to hit him. It was a proper hare, not a bunny rabbit, long legged and fast. For some distance after he kept running in front of me, bedazzled and confused. Listening to the Wind up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami all last night in the studio, I can almost believe in premonitions now. I'd love to think that the runners, the rain, and the rabbit do mean something... (...for one, they all begin with R).

Bornholm, Denmark

Two flights, two trains, one ferry and one car ride later Sandor and I arrived to Bornholm, Denmark, a lovely island in the middle of the Baltic Sea. It is actually closer to Sweden than to Denmark, and during its history has been taken over by the Swedes, Nazis, and Russians.
It is now a popular summer vacation spot. According to my hosts, Susanne, every child in Denmark comes here for summer camp at some point in her life. Former fishing industry is now in decline, but there is still a lot of farming: colorful patches of late summer fields everywhere and a faint smell of pigs. And the landscape! The southern side of the island is edged by silky white sand beaches, the rest is breathtaking, rocky shore. Everything is quiet, peaceful; only nature entertains us with much drama: For the past two days constant 50+mph winds made pedaling on our bikes quite a challenge.
I'm staying at the Mobelfabrikken in Nexo (I realize, I'm missing the proper characters to spell these right.) as one of the Artist in Residence for the European Ceramic Context, a biannual conference in ceramics (in alternating years it is in glass). This is the proud initiative of Bornholm, rich in artisan traditions of clay and glass. There are plenty of local artists and crafts people who are here because of the cheap property, (property prices differ hugely depending on whether it is a summer home or a year-round first home) tourist Euros, superb scenery and relaxed lifestyle.

Wrapped up and ready to go

I've been meaning to make this posting for the past 3 weeks. With Sandor's great help it only took a day to build the crate, and another to pack it (Sorry Honey, for promising to go on site-seeing trips when I'd asked you to arrive a few days earlier!)
So, here is the proof that 3 months of hard work is nothing more than a wooden box of .8x.8x2meters.

Mile 26...

This is it. The last week of this roller coaster of a 13-week experimentation, hard work, focus, practical/stupid/brilliant/sensible/plain-bad ideas, sleep deprivation and many other things. Today, I cleaned out my space, removed all the furniture, recycled all the clay, packaged my leftover materials, cleaned my tools, and ceremonially destroyed all molds but one (this one is saved for two more days for a particular reason). There is a wast empty space again, replacing all the action that had taken place. Weirdly, the space seems to have no memory, it's waiting anew for the new occupant.
The only sign of my being here is ten porcelain "flowers" blooming on the bare gray cement floor. Clemence called the umbrellas "flowers" during my studio chat for their bell-shape and pointy tips; and seeing them all together this way tonight (for the first time), this was my first thought too.
Every week, I manged two cast and carve two of them, the designs (I mean, the maps inside...) getting more and more complicated and challenging to do. Together, they comprise my memory-mappings of all the places where I've lived and wondered around extensively, sometimes being lost, sometimes finding stuff. Tuesday, for my end presentation here at EKWC, I won't yet be able to have them installed according to my original plans, suspended in mid-air. That part needs to be figured out at home, in Seattle. During my run on Tuesday (while I went "zoning-out"), a new presentation idea flashed through my brain. I don't want to reveal too much in advance, but let's hope that the weather collaborates! In the meantime, here are some new pics from the 26th mile...