"THE WESTERN POTTER" NO, 4, March, 1966.

EDITORIAL

We are privileged in this issue to have a contribution from one of
Canada's younger poets, Mr. Gerry Gilbert. He has had a long
association with pottery - perhaps I should say potters. He and his
wife lived in a small moorland cottage near St.Ives, in Cornwall and
came to know Bernard Leach, his pottery and the potters there. More
recently he has been associated with John Reeve's Pottery in Devon,
England. Gerry now resides in Vancouver. His poetry is well known
in Canada; a book of his poems has been published and he has been
represented in many publications in Canada, the U.S.A. and England.
Mr. Gilbert notes that the punctuation, spelling, etc. are intentional.

The other day, an eminent art gallery director asked me why I didn't
use more colour on my pots. He went on to say that there was a great
sameness about pots (colour) all through the country, This may be
superficially true but, of course, it doesn't matter. It is beside the
point! One doesn't turn out pots that are pointedly "with colour" or
"without colour", like the latest style in bath-tub colours. This is a
commercial consideration - a consideration not at the heart of the
genesis of a work. One would not think of questioning the sameness
(colour) of classical Chinese celadon. Why were they all green?

Why didn't the medieval English potters use colour? We wouldn't

ask this really. It's silly. The important thing is a philosophical and
aesthetic consideration at the heart. It doesn't matter what colour
your pot is if it is a vital expression of your philosophy and aesthetic.
We must be constantly alert to what in ourselves is motivated by
commercialism only, which would be a naive, provincial, amateurish
and futile expression. We must search for professionalism, in the
true sense, in ourselves. This cannot be too strongly stressed.
Don't be put off by people asking for "blue”™ pots if you have none, or
others asking, "What's that supposed to be?" The strength and
validity of your work will depend upon the degree of utmost conviction
you bring to bear and the harmony you have with the material. It is
difficult in this age but the question is always open, "What am I doing?"

This is often forgotten in the escape to the techn ! ities of a craft.