Christine Pedersen

Blue and white landscapes—out there, and in my studio: blue porcelain vessels made over the last couple of months are now dry, and I’m following the weather forecast to see if we might get a day above zero so I can fire them. Then I’ll wrap the pieces and get them from the warm house out to the kiln in my very cold garage, trying to avoid freezing cracks…welcome back to winter mode! It’s amazing how much that blue porcelain changes—rich sky blue when it’s raw and wet, soft chalky blue when it’s dry, and that super-charged cobalt blue once it’s fired.

These pieces have spent some very glamorous weeks under old grocery bags, dry cleaning plastic, bin bags—anything that gives the clay room to breathe and dry out very, very slowly, accommodating thick and thin sections of clay, allowing water to travel from the centre and equilibrate with the surface. One can force-dry pieces in the kiln, a process beautifully named “candling” but I never do that, it’s just way too risky (and ceramics is risky and heartbreaking enough even if you play by the rules)🤞🤍💙

I haven’t done an intro here for a while, and it turns out that this summer—which was all bikes* and clay—is a pretty good summary. I’ve spent this year focused on making work in clay that is about landscape, and I biked a couple of thousand kilometres through it on local rides and Calgary bike paths, climbing the hills up from the river valley, staring west to the Rocky Mountains, meeting glacial erratics and wildlife along the way. I watched the last of the winter snow melt away to leave grey peaks, and now they’re turning white again.

I’ve lived in Calgary, Canada since 1995, after emigrating from Nottingham, England. I grew up in Fowey and Lostwithiel in Cornwall, a feral kid roaming the cliffs, and riding ponies on my grandparents farm deep in tin-mining and china clay country, near St. Austell. Swimming in the sea and knowing the tide tables was my normal—as was the ever-present threat of flooding, because the River Fowey, swollen by storms and backed up by spring tides, flowed through our home on several occasions. Water was a constant in our lives, as it is here—in a warming climate with increasingly dynamic weather events, lower river levels from a decreased snow pack, and rapidly retreating glaciers.

Clay comes from the landscape: I use colour and form to share what I am seeing and learning, and I’ll be posting lots more from my research and process in the coming months. Kiln is firing, and I look forward to sharing lots of new pieces. Image description in the comments 💙🤍

*Bikes are the most extraordinary machines, allowing us to move within the landscape, covering surprising distances but at a very human pace. I just wish I stopped more often to take photos!

Gallery news: I’m delighted to share that a collection of my porcelain vessels and vases is now available from Willock & Sax Gallery in Banff, Canada.

Ceramic vessels allow me to create a unique form every time I work. My pieces are inspired by real and imagined landscapes, geology, deep time, and the science of our universe. I make sculptural vessels based in form and colour, functional vases inspired by my garden, and open forms that welcome food, or contemplation. I build these pieces in small groups, allowing each one to grow at its own pace--developing the form a little and then resting the clay. As my hands shape the vessel, the warmth helps to stiffen and slowly dry the material; it’s this relationship with time that allows me to intuitively generate and capture intense textures and gestural details within the clay surface.

This collection includes unglazed vessels that focus on the natural beauty of the porcelain clay, alongside vases with lots of colourful pops of glaze. You can see the full group on the gallery website - link in my profile.


Willock & Sax Gallery, 210 Bear Street, Banff, Alberta, Canada.
willockandsaxgallery.com