Rodney Mott Story

Chaos Theory-spinning apart then coming together new
A Phoenix Rising – regression before progression

After 32 years in Penryn, I moved to Southern France, hoping for change.  I was immediately embraced by the small village where I settled and offered multiple spots to work and teach, at no cost.  I taught anyone interested and was paid with pastries and kisses on both cheeks.  Even with all of the encouragement, I struggled as an artist.  It felt like I was back at the beginning-clay bodies melted, glazes shivered off the surfaces-kilns under fired and the first kiln I built there, collapsed immediately after removing the form.  Through the year, I grew to appreciate all the infrastructure I had built back in  Penryn.  

Returning home, I knew I couldn’t make art that even resembled what I had already done.  One of my dearest friends and mentors, Dick Ketelle, had passed away before I left and I acquired his molds that included his face, a hammer, a chisel, and a brick.  I had not worked much with molds so creating felt uncomfortable.  In France, I had seen ancient Roman roof tiles that Picasso decorated with engobes and glaze and re-fired.  I realized the potential resource of harvesting already fired pieces, re-glazing parts and assembling them together.  They blew up and melted down.  The first few firings, I had to stop the kiln to clear the burner ports of shards.  Shards stuck to other pieces and embedded themselves into the fiber walls like shrapnel.  I glazed kiln shelves, kiln furniture, grandmother’s china, painted family heirlooms, gifts from friends who had visited Acapulco.  Nothing was off limits.  There were no barriers, no rules.  My aesthetic was completely changing.  

At that time, I had dinner at Ken Underwood’s house.  Ken is a close friend and one of the most knowledgeable and passionate collectors I know.  After years of putting together a large, historic collection of ceramics, a wildfire jumped the creek and his home and entire collection was reduced to ashes and shards.  Friends helped him salvage the remains and store them at his new house.  Many of the shattered pieces seemed perfect for the new work I was creating.  Ken said to use whatever I wanted from the treasure pile.

I took dozens of fragments covered with melted glass, rusty iron and gypsum. The encrusted debris mixed with cone 10 glazes.  Pieces melted away, plates collapsed, figures slumped.  The fire was having the final say.  I felt I had come to a true partnership with the kiln.  

Nothing is for sale; the value is the story and the renewal and the collaboration.