in conversation with with ArtedUK's Imogen Bosence
Sandy Brown lives in a large house overlooking the river Torridge in the village of Appledore, Devon. On my arrival she offers me a cup of tea, and I sit at the kitchen table admiring the view of the river whilst she makes it. The tea arrives in an astonishingly enormous teapot, with corresponding cups and milk jug. They are such familiar objects, but the cartoon-like proportions and vivid colours make them somehow unexpected. I add milk, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland.
What an amazing teapot!
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Thank you. A teapot like this is quite a grand sculptural object and I like objects like that, ones that have presence when they are not in use. We can have an engagement with them, use them to make a quite ordinary experience like having a cup of tea spiritually uplifting; I have always enjoyed that, it has always been a large part of pots that I use. Tea drinking, or coffee drinking is something that we nearly all do, all over the world. There is an element of ritual to it, no matter where you are. I think the opportunity to make pots, or objects for that is a very exciting one.
Why did you come to Devon?
I love being near the estuary, watching the ebb and flow of the water. It is a very nourishing and inspiring location
I think originally I came to North Devon after living in Japan, because I was looking for places where the clay is. We were looking at a map, and discovered there is a lot of clay in Devon, really good clay for potters. We went straight to the clay pit and got our clay from there. There are quite a lot of potters in Devon because of that. Now I've moved to Appledore, I love being near the estuary, watching the ebb and flow of the water. It is a very nourishing and inspiring location. It nourishes me. I can understand that, it is a beautiful place.
I still use the local clay, but it isn't the only clay I use. I also use a coarser clay for the sculptural work I do, and I combine that with using a local brick-clay. I use mud from the Appledore estuary. The top layer of that mud is the most beautiful material, it is so silky and buttery. I use that as half between a slip and a glaze. It's great fun going to collect it.
We finish our tea, and Sandy suggests we take the walk to the workshop. The building is an old Victorian glove factory just round the corner on another part of the river-front, and is painted a vivid shade of blue. Downstairs is the work area and kiln, and upstairs is a huge, light-filled gallery space.
So tell me about your work, what happens in a working day?
Using the glaze colours is always the fun bit. They look like blank canvasses at the moment, and I am going to put their personalities on, like putting on their clothes.
My working day involves a 200-yard walk from home to my studio. I like to take a bit of time to prepare the clay. I like to make nice soft, responsive, sensual clay. That is what gives the finger marks you can see in the pots and bowls. I usually have several things on the go at once- just at the moment I have several things that I'm going to start painting next week. Using the glaze colours is always the fun bit. They look like blank canvasses at the moment, and I am going to put their personalities on, like putting on their clothes.
When I'm working with the clay, I set the timer, and just sort of doodle for half an hour and see what happens. I don't do any planning. Because it is very physical, because my hands do the leading and not my brain, it does draw on the body. I made all these little flat things once, and I piled them all up and put a piece of wire through them. Then I made this one, it was a sort of spiral. Then the timer went, and I looked at the two together, and thought ‘well these are really interesting shapes'. So I scaled them up, and made them four metres tall. I think it looks pretty impressive, both old and new at the same time.
I've got some more 30 minute sketches here- this one looks like a floating object, like it might live on the water. That is another one that wants to be large. This one combines several different colours of clay, using the dish form as a vehicle for painting. There will be more colour added to it when it is fired. These are going to an exhibition in London, they are dishes made on the wheel, so they have the different rhythms of the clay and my hand in them.
I'm interested to know if you plan, or design the work first, or if it just happens.
No, I don't plan before I start work. I resist that. I find the most interesting things happen when I don't plan. I have been, in the last couple of weeks, going back and looking at the things in Japanese art that inspired me when I was there. It was over thirty years ago now, and I looked at it then, but haven't really looked at it much since. I've just been looking at some Japanese prints and textile patterns. I've been thinking about the relationship between very dense patterned movement, and mass of space with nothing much happening. I really like that composition, and I think unconsciously that is the type of language I have developed in my own work, that same relationship between space and pattern and movement. It is really nice to look at that afresh, after such a long time. I'd imagine it is something that will feed into my work, but I'm not going to think about it or plan it. I'm going to trust the process. I'll see what happens.
What about commissioned work?
Several people have asked me to do their entire house-full of usable ceramics, tableware. I know they have asked me because they like my work, so I still feel I have a lot of freedom
I enjoy working to commission, as I find a lot of the people who commission me, ask me to do things I might not have done otherwise. It is chance to expand and do something new. Several people have asked me to do their entire house-full of usable ceramics, tableware. I know they have asked me because they like my work, so I still feel I have a lot of freedom.
Your work is very female isn't it? I don't think I'd ever assume it was done by a man
The teapot is a very female form, I've always liked the idea of a fat, full bellied giver. I feel I'm always drawn to expressing that, both in my pots and the large sculptures as well. They take on simplified version of the female body, the figure of eight. Although they are very pared down and primitive looking, I haven't seen anything like them anywhere else. That really surprises me. It is amazing that after all these thousands of years of people making the female form out of clay, it is still possible to make new things. I find that really exciting.
What about colour, tell me about where the ‘Sandy Brown' shades come from, because they are a very distinctive part of your work.
When I was living in Japan, I saw the pottery there using the same four or five glazes in a very interesting and imaginative way. They would try one on top of the other, they would pour or splash one on top. They were very inventive in the way they used a very limited framework. I've always enjoyed that- being expressive with the use of colour.
I came back to England and was looking at what colours were available for me to use here that would withstand the heat needed to fire stoneware, and discovered that I actually had a very limited palate to work with. The blue, the cobalt oxide is the most versatile in a way. Then the green is copper oxide, and the iron oxide is a blackish colour. Plus the white of the slip. So knew that I had those colours available to me. Then I started to see whether there were any other colours I could use. Using colour in ceramics wasn't new- using them at the high temperatures was. People hadn't seen it before, as there was this belief that they wouldn't withstand the fire, that they would melt out. I was always told that I'd be wasting my time using colour, as it would disappear in the heat. A lot of colours did, but not all of them.
The colours that I use now are the ones which are available for use at the temperature I work with. It is actually the full palate- there's a pink, and a peachy-yellow, and a yellow and a reddy pink. Plus with the blue and green, I've got the colours of the rainbow. I can do anything with it now, and I think it has become quite distinctive.
What about shows? These crates look like they’re going somewhere soon.
This year I've shown my work in Munich, and there is a big ceramics international event going on in Aberystwyth, which has been going on for about 30 years. I'm showing there in July. I'm showing in America next year. It is usually a combination of one or two solo shows a year, plus three or four group shows. The one in Munich was an exhibition of painted ceramics from around the world.
How is your work received in Japan?
I went back to Japan in 1992 to do a show, and it was the first time to go back with my work after I had studied there. I got a very strong response. They understood the language, the expression with the clay. Although it was quite new for them to see colour used in the way I do, so in that sense it was quite new. They do use colour, but in a much more formal way by using a technique called ‘third firing', it's called over-glazed enamel, but it is much more geometric. In that sense, it looked very new to them. But it went down really well and they were very open to my way of using colour.
Have you spent time in Africa, or South America perhaps? I'm asking this because your work has a quality to it that makes me think you have. There's something about it that is very much outside the ‘art world'.
I think when people do work intuitively, there is actually almost a universal language that we share with everyone from every culture...
...by not thinking and planning, just allowing things to emerge from the unconscious, then it does draw on a vast bank of collectively recognised images
I've enjoyed being able to be freely expressive, and intuitive with my work, so that is where it has come from. I think when people do work intuitively, there is actually almost a universal language that we share with everyone from every culture. Like Jung wrote about the ‘collective unconscious'. I think that I connect with that, draw from it. I think when I work deeply and intuitively, by not thinking and planning, just allowing things to emerge from the unconscious, then it does draw on a vast bank of collectively recognised images. In that way, I think my work does look familiar.
People do say it looks Mexican or African or Aboriginal, and I'm really happy with that. I think that I am in very good company, although it is not intentional. I didn't start looking at that sort of work really until after people has started telling me that what I was doing had those resonances. When I'm teaching, I often say ‘do something without thinking, without planning. Work with your eyes closed, so you are just drawing on the sense of touch'. I can see that often forms that look familiar, sometimes ancient or archetypal, just appear in the clay this way
Do the people who buy your work use the pieces?
I had that feeling as a child- the best china would come out and we would feel inhibited or afraid of touching it. That's not endearing is it?
I think a lot of people are attracted to the objects I make because they can use them. I encourage them to. I think there is a real hunger that people have to use objects like these in their daily lives. They use the dinner plates and the teapots. I didn't want people to be afraid of touching my work. I had that feeling as a child- the best china would come out and we would feel inhibited or afraid of touching it. That's not endearing is it?
I'm not intimidated by being in this workshop- I'm not worried about breaking stuff. I feel invited to touch the objects, I think because I can see your handprints and finger-marks in them. They are ‘touchable' things, do you agree?
I like people to be able to see the adventures in the making. I like them to be artless, in the respect that they are not too sophisticated or showing off techniques. I like them to directly say ‘this is how you do it, this is how it is made'
Yes, I wanted to create work that would draw people in, make them want to engage with it. In a way, this is what is behind what I do- I would hate to think that I was showing some sort of ‘great skill' that people were going to be intimidated by. I am deliberately aware of making it look touchable, leaving traces of myself, the making. I like people to be able to see the adventures in the making. I like them to be artless, in the respect that they are not too sophisticated or showing off techniques. I like them to directly say ‘this is how you do it, this is how it is made'.
The way I learned in the pottery in Japan is by watching. I absorbed the techniques. Nobody ever gave me lessons, so I developed my own way of doing things. I think this was really significant because I was able to develop a way of doing it that felt natural. That's part of the reason spontaneity is so important actually, because that freshness in the making and the painting invites a response of ‘that looks like fun'. Well I hope it does.
I love being near the estuary, watching the ebb and flow of the water. It is a very nourishing and inspiring location
