Jon Pettyjohn: Kin and kiln
March 16, 2002 | 12:00am
The lanky Jon Pettyjohn sits up after crouching at the side opening of the kiln. He takes one medium-sized, olive-shaped jar, shakes his head and sighs. "Anagama is teasing us," he assays, "as it teaches us." Pettyjohn is referring to a special kiln that was built in his studio nearly a year ago. Having named it "Musang Gama" after the family of wild civets that live nearby the kiln site at the foothills of Mt. Makiling, he and the people behind the Philippine Anagama project are extending the contemporary revival of wood-fired hearths to these parts. It was partly the reason I spent a Sunday with them, watching the opening and unloading of the kiln. The ritual of slowly extracting pottery made by various artists was an event not to be missed.
It looked like an archaeological find as the pots were coming out of the tomb-like furnace, still very warm after four days of firing at a constant 2,400-degrees temperature and two days of cooling down. Rather than ancient trade ceramics or local earthenware, these are new pieces that speak of recent histories. Tessy Pettyjohn, wife of Jon and a renowned potter herself, told me that the clay they use comes from different sources, such as Bicol, Iloilo and Bulacan so that they can achieve the durability they demand of their pots. Meanwhile, the Anagama is an egg-shaped structure that is two meters in length with a 13-inch wall of industrial bricks from Caloocan. The approximate width inside is one-and-a-half meters. When I got there I found the entire kiln sealed with clay as it sits on a slope with loose dirt around it. The comparison with a gravesite was not too far-fetched with the shed built above it.
Around 40 pieces of various sizes came out of Musang Gama, which according to Pettyjohn, was "a better firing than the first two, but ultimately he deemed it was not too successful. This was the eighth firing of the Anagama, containing pieces made by members of the Pettyjohn Mendoza Pottery Workshop, which is based in Glorietta Makati. The Pettyjohns along with Adee Mendoza, a young potter, who studied in the US, teaches there. Pieces made from the workshop are brought back to the Pansol Pottery Studio. This was put together by Jon and Tessy over the years in Laguna, firing mainly with electric or gas kilns.
Five to six years ago, the Pettyjohns began talking about the Anagama project with an internationally-known clay artist and friend Shozo Michikawa, as well as with Mendoza and Sammy Kilat, the Pettyjohns’ long-time assistant potter. It was only in April 2001 that they were able to realize their dream. Despite lack of substantial help and official funding, the group managed by using information technology. The collaboration between potters from Japan and the Philippines was a success and may serve as model for other projects. As members of a web-based group called Pottery-Tech, the Philippine Anagama scheme won support from appeals sent through the Internet. Pottery friends and students who might be interested to contribute paid in advance for reserved kiln space to fire their works. Other participants included Yuji Fujiwara, an award-winning clay sculptor and potter; Kouji Kondo, a well-known potter doing traditional-style pottery; and Ganji Ishida, an expert in kiln construction. This collaboration, however, did not end when the kiln was built. It seems every firing is a challenge.
This recent Anagama firing was inspired partly by the visit of the Japanese potter Takeshi Maruyama whose work is on exhibit at the GSIS Museum until the end of the month. Jon Pettyjohn was disappointed with some pieces that came out of Musang Gama because a few pieces had flaky glazing. A glaze on pottery is a thin layer of glass that came from the ashes of the wood, which was burnt to provide a constant high temperature required by the Anagama process of making pottery. As he was taking out more pieces, he inspected them closely with Tessy, Mendoza, Cortes and Lee. Theirs was a collaboration of trying to determine how they can make it better and to avoid the pieces being underfired, the result of which is the scaling glaze.
Jon Pettyjohn discloses that once all the pieces have been taken out of Anagama, he finds everything else anticlimactic. This is true for most of the potters who feel that completion of the firing is the beginning of the end. Once their desire to create pots is stoked again by the alchemy of finding the right combination of the basic elements – fire, earth, water and air – they start again with its intricate process. The challenge for them is to manage the many factors they cannot control. For instance, wood is a mysterious fuel, due to the complexity of minerals it absorbs from the ground. Its firing also requires much intuition and understanding of the behavior of fire itself as potters attempt to guide it through the kiln. In a way, they paint the pots by leaving behind the mark of the flames. Wood firing is also a group activity that requires working together among potters who must form crucibles, load them in the kiln and fire them – a process that may take as long as a month. I once talked to a person who says that in making art you have to allow for "God to walk in." To others this may mean letting nature take its course as the Pansol potters have shown.
The Pettyjohns’ residence comprises a series of low structures arranged around the slope of Makiling. It was designed around Jon and Tessy’s work as potters and their rich family life, which includes three daughters. A guesthouse greets visitors upon entering the gate. It consists of airy, wide rooms with big, screened windows that allow cross-ventilation. This is where most of the cooking and eating is done. Many of the Pettyjohns’ pottery and other art collections are cozily placed in apt niches around the house. Their living quarters are just above it and are more relaxed than the guesthouse. A long structure lies opposite this, comprising the ample pottery studio where most of the equipment, including the gas and electric kilns, are found. At the very top of this complex, sits the Anagama as if to indicate its prime place in the lives of the potters.
That Sunday when I visited them Tessy Pettyjohn created a buffet spread for lunch that included roast beef, tinolang manok (chicken stewed in vegetables and ginger), salad and special buko (young coconut) pie. Pete Cortes was right about Tessy’s cooking: It is worth travelling to Pansol for. Even for a non-meat eater like me, the vegetables in those dishes tasted just right and delectable. Perhaps it was also the wonderful setting with the amiable atmosphere that made the meal. It was also an interesting experience to eat from something made by people I know. The Pettyjohns made all the clay plates, drinking cups, and bowls we used.
It is said that it will take 100 firings until potters can get the right results from the Anagama. Whoever said pottery was a craft is mad. It is high art that speaks of the merits of a sustainable lifestyle. Now that I have witnessed the ultimate of traditional high-fired pottery making, I find that the people involved here have every right to be rather smug and potty. Yet despite their international stature and the high regard accorded to them by many artists from different parts of the world, the members of the Pansol studio remain good-natured.
"Every firing is a humbling experience," declares Pettyjohn, "since there are so many things involved in it with which we have no command." Every piece seems to depend on accidents, sometimes controllable, often uncontrollable. The outcome is often a delight but it can also be disappointing. Here is a place where process has equal importance over product. Sometimes when the potters feel less confident, method gets more premium than the outcome.
After all, despite the many karaoke singing that breaks the rustic idyll of a Sunday afternoon, Pansol is a center of culture without having to claim to be one.
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