Lorton — The Workhouse Arts Center has announced that two of its artists will be traveling abroad this spring to fulfill one month artistic residencies. Carol Iglesias, an Associate Artist at the Workhouse, will be traveling to Dinan, France and Hadrian Mendoza, a Studio Artist of Building W-8, will be traveling to Fuping, China.

Local Workhouse Associate Artist Carol Iglesias has been accepted as an artist-in-residence into the prestigious l’Atelier d’Ariste de Grande Vigne in Dinan, France for the month of April. The purpose of the program, which was started by French artist Yvonne Jean-Haffen before her death in 1993, is to perpetuate a tradition that goes back to the 18th century whereby artists from around the world are invited for a one-month stay. When accepted, the artist receives the use of a studio and housing in Dinan in exchange for a painting created during their stay and chosen by a selection committee. The painting is then put into the permanent collection of La Grande Vigne and used in exhibitions by the association.

Iglesias’ passion for painting European streets, old buildings, boats and reflections led her to apply for the residency last fall. Her extensive love of travel inspires her and provides the subject matter for much of her work, which she describes as "Impressionist Style in Vibrant Colors." Throughout her career, she has painted many locations in Europe, including Provence and Tuscany, as well as many sites in the Caribbean and the United States. She has shown her pastel paintings in over thirty exhibitions in galleries and museums throughout Virginia, Maryland, Washington D.C., South Carolina, Iowa, Puerto Rico and Washington State. She has also exhibited her work in shows which have traveled around the U.S. Her paintings can be found in many published books and magazines as well as in public and private collections around the world. At the Workhouse, her work is exhibited in the Vulcan Gallery.

Born in Montreal, Canada, Iglesias grew up in the Pacific Northwest, graduated from Olympic College in Washington State, and continued her study of art at The New School of Visual Concepts in Seattle. She enjoyed a successful career for twenty years as a graphic designer and art director. Also, she co-founded a design company in Asheville, North Carolina and won numerous awards both nationally and internationally for her designs. As a fine artist, she is an award winning signature member of the Maryland Pastel Society whose members come from Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, Washington D.C., West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Florida and New Jersey. Carol is the third Workhouse artist to be accepted into this program and the fourth Workhouse artist to travel to Dinan, France.

Dinan, is known as one of the most beautiful towns in France. Located in Brittany on the River Rance, it is considered one of the Earth’s most beautiful spots, boasting aqueducts and a medieval wall around the town.






Photo Contributed

Ceramic artist Hadrian Mendoza at work.

BUILDING W-8 ARTIST, Hadrian Mendoza, will participate in the Ceramic Art Residency Program at the FuLe International Ceramic Art Museums (FLICAM) in Fuping, China for the month of May. He is in charge of selecting the Southeast Asian artists and the logistics of the entire program.

With an aim to promote contemporary ceramic art in China as well as around the world, FLICAM places a heavy emphasis on blending old with new, East with West, and traditional with modern. All of the art works exhibited in the museums are created by artists who have completed a residency and are made from local materials found in Fuping. Artists are invited to Fuping to create contemporary ceramic art that will be permanently exhibited in a museum at the end of their stay.

Mendoza, a stoneware potter, looks for unusual and indigenous forms while creating, with a special interest in expressionistic and abstract shapes. Many of his pieces, which often include heavy cultural undertones, captivate the presence of his own cultural dilemmas as an artist. His work has been exhibited in many solo shows, as well as group shows internationally. His pieces are also a part of public and private collects around the globe.

Receiving his Bachelor of Arts in Business Administration from Mary Washington College, Mendoza was also a student at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington, D.C. where in 1997 he was awarded the prestigious Anne & Arnold Abramson Award for Excellence in Ceramics. During the late 1990’s Mendoza decided to move back to the Philippines where, for the next few years, he began teaching ceramics and divulging further into his interest for Southeast Asia’s indigenous forms. At the Workhouse, his studio and work can be found in Building W-8.

Since 2005, FLICAM has built over 20 museums, each by country, that exhibit ceramic works from around the world. Belonging to the Fuping Pottery Art Village (FPAV), FLICAM is a part of a larger site which includes a thousand acres of orchard land, a major ceramic tile factory, a ceramic leisure center, and a 3-star hotel.

by Anne Mancuso & Sunita Reddy




Philippine Bulol Sculptures (Monday through Saturday) In the Philippines, carved wooden sculptures of the rice god Bulol are often placed by granaries to ensure a good harvest. Contemporary sculptures of Bulol by the artist Hadrian Mendoza, who was born in the Philippines, are included in a show of his work that coincides with Philippine Independence Day, June 12; the exhibition will be up June 6 through June 17. Hours: Monday through Saturday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. A reception on Wednesday June 8 at 6 p.m. is open to the public. Philippine Center, 556 Fifth Avenue, at 46th Street, Manhattan , (571) 294-1655, hadrianmendoza.com.

"Unveiling the Ceramic Bulol on Independence Day", The Filam Magazine, May 24, 2011 by Christina Del Carmen Pastor








The god of harvest is getting a makeover.

Stoneware potter Hadrian Mendoza is showing 15 pieces of ceramic ‘bulol’ at the Philippine Center on Fifth Avenue from June 6 to 17 to coincide with the celebration of Independence Day on June 12. Opening night is June 8.

The traditional, wood-carved ‘bulol’ – or granary god — is an indigenous sculpture common in the northern Philippines, which is home to the world-famous Banaue Rice Terraces. The Ifugao people of Northern Luzon believed in carving their interpretation of the deity to ensure a good harvest for the season. Today, the ‘bulol’ is more of a decorative bric-a-brac found in many cosmopolitan homes.

“If you look at all the pictures of ‘bulol,’ usually in wood, as done by artisans in northern Luzon, the gesture of its face is minimal, its marks are minimal,” said Hadrian, a recipient of the Anne and Arnold Abramson award for Excellence in Ceramics courtesy of the Corcoran School of Art in Washington D.C. “From its shape, from the proportion of its head and body, you can’t seem to tell what’s going on in it in terms of emotions and feelings. Studying the faces of ‘bulol’ has given me a good feeling.”

“Two months ago, I was in a frenzy making several 30-inch tall ‘bulol’ after I was scheduled for an art exhibit in time for the Independence Day,” he said. “I worked on five pieces at a time. It felt good. It made me feel at home. I got a different world in my studio at Work House Art Centre in Lorton, Virginia. I felt as if I was not there, but in the Philippines,” he said.

Hadrian, his wife and two children left their home and studio at the foot of Mount Makiling in Laguna, southern Luzon in 2009 to return to Virginia, where he grew up. He was named artist in residence at the ceramics department of the 3-year-old Lorton Art Foundation. As soon as they arrived, he panicked that he didn’t have the right kind of clay “similar to the one I left in the Philippines.”

“I wanted the coarsest and chunkiest red clay with lots of iron. I did my research. Finally, someone introduced me to Neuman, the company that gave me the clay that I was looking for. When I got the bulk in December 2009, it looked gritty and unrefined, like the clay of that I used to work with in the Philippines,” he recalled.

After two test fires, and in order to create an organic look in his pieces, he changed the recipe of this new clay: 70 percent ball clay and kaolin, 20 percent feldspar, and 10 percent silica. The new recipe turned his glaze of oak ash (taken from the fireplace) from pale green to brownish dark brown, more orange, and dark iron red.

“I was trying to get back the comfort zone that I had in the Philippines. I was really happy that I got comfortable (with my materials) again,” he said.

Confessing how he yielded to the ‘bulol’s’ essence of quietude, Hadrian said, “I started making ‘bulol’ in its traditional form. I used a very simple technique and minimal approach in making its eyes and nose. There were very subtle changes, but nothing radical. They were very minimal. I didn’t want to disrespect it by making it too off.”

“But the feeling and emotion that you get from the minimal gestures that created the ‘bulol’ become strong. Its basic forms and basic emotions represent dull, muted, and subtle hope, but, more importantly, they are about a belief or confidence that something will come out (of nothing). It’s a strong sculpture,” he explained further.

With his deliberate choice of materials and form, his potter’s hands are decidedly reaching out to the Philippines, his roots. “Rather than guessing what to make (day after day in my studio), making ‘bulol’ has given me direction,” he said.

While in the Philippines, Hadrian became a student of Philippine master potters Jon and Tessy Pettyjohn in Calamba, Laguna. Together, they put up a pottery school in the Makati financial district. He also has his own studio in Laguna.

Hadrian Mendoza is married to Camille Dacanay. They have two daughters, Banaue, 4, and Roja, 2. They are residents of Reston, where Hadrian grew up.

By Hadrian Mendoza

the 27 artists representing 8 Southeast Asian Countries

Edru Abraham, Ira Cruz, Nathan Azarcon, Rely Devera

Guest of Honor Janet Mansfield takes a swing at the Palayok full of Sampaguitas

Bathma Kaew-Ngok of Thailand

Ahadiat Joedawinata of Indonesia

Vipoo Srivilasa of Thailand

bowls by Winnie Go (Philippines)

The museum crowd broke into cheers when 27 ceramic artists from eight Southeast Asian countries one after the other gave the suspended palayok (traditional Filipino clay pot) a whack with a hammer, spilling the small sampaguita flowers inside and opening the first Southeast Asian ceramics Festival in the heart of the Philippines’ Makati business district. As shards flew and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air, I felt the unmistakable energy of a new era of Asian ceramics being born at that very moment. Housed in the Ayala Museum and celebrated in a very ASEAN atmosphere, we were finally one: the region’s small body of potters, working in traditional or contemporary modes with clay and fire. The getting together of the region’s potters was ushered in by heady music and ethnic dances provided by the contemporary Southeast Asian orchestra bands: Contra Gapi using Indonesian gongs and drums as well as collaborating music from members of local Filipino rock bands Bamboo, Rivermaya, and Sinosikat with Fender guitars and tweeters. Instead of a traditional ribbon cutting ceremony, the artists welcomed each other with the warmth and hospitality familiar to all of us in the region.

Master Potters

The exhibit, which lasted two weeks and was accompanied by a two-day lecture-demonstration, showcased 64 works by renowned potters: Serge Rega from Cambodia, Ahadiat Joedawinata from Indonesia; Sisuk from Laos; Yeow Seng Cheah, Hwee Min Low, James Seet, and Lileng Wong from Malaysia; Siegrid Bangyay, Lope Bosaing, Pablo Capati, Pete Cortes, Joey De Castro, Jaime De Guzman, Joe Geraldo, Winnie Go, Julie Lluch, Hadrian Mendoza, Camille Mendoza, Jon Pettyjohn, Tessy Pettyjohn, Nelfa Querubin, and Mark Valenzuela from the Philippines; Thomas Cheong and Teck Heng Tan from Singapore; Bathma Kaew-Ngok and Vipoo Srivilasa from Thailand; and Bao Toan Nguyen from Vietnam. Australian national artist Janet Mansfield, who contributed a sculptural work served as guest of honor for the event.

Medley of ASEAN motifs and colors

I had visited fellow-potters in Southeast Asia and was familiar with the displayed pieces. But put together, the region’s diversity and unity exceeded even my expectations. The region’s stamp was symbolically evident in many of the works. Regional fauna such as the butterfly, carabao (ox), fish, and elephant were portrayed in many works. Even scenes of the ocean and mountains, which surround the islands and archipelagoes in the ASEAN region, and a local wild mushroom were enlivened as inspirational motifs. They appeared as colors if not as figures on the pieces on display.
If themes were varied, the firing styles were also as diverse. The ASEAN artists used open pit, oxidation, gas reduction, and wood-fire in shaping their pieces. This range of firing techniques displayed the experimental nature and, hence, the evolution of the ASEAN artists in producing the desired sheen and finish on their works. A range of colors from bright hues of stains to the natural wood ash effect left remarkable colors and textures on the pots and sculptures on display. In this show, all the works created a medley of ASEAN flavors; they seemed to flow as one and combine in their diversity.

Tongues of fire in the workshop

As adept as the hands that shaped the clay and the fire that licked the art works into their final form and color, the ASEAN potters were just as fluent in sharing and explaining their creative process during the two-day workshop that took place in the upper room of the Ayala Museum. There was a steep curve to the bonding as the artists presented videos that revealed how each of them experimented and eventually discovered the special techniques that they could call their own. We presented the history of pottery in our countries, our personal and national trials and victories as artists, all of which contributed to a comprehensive perspective of our evolution as potters in the region.
None of us could escape talking about the traditional pottery in our respective countries, and how, as modern and contemporary artists, we have been working with or against such a rich historical background. The richness of the ASEAN cultures to which we belonged and the boundless energy of the modern potters that met in Manila was awe-inspiring. The dialogue was witnessed by historians, art critics, enthusiasts, and students from both the University of the Philippines and the Philippine High School for the Arts.
The Southeast Asian region is geographically and culturally diverse but underneath, we know that we are geologically united by volcanic landscapes and fire. It was but natural for stoneware potters participating in Manila’s “Ring of Fire” to exhibit this strange blend of unity and diversity. When we met for the first time as a set of ASEAN artists in Manila in 2009, it was the culmination of a search for a common artistic energy. Yes, we had toiled separately, but talking and sharing our knowledge and works for one show gave us insights into different techniques and unusual aesthetic effects.

Fulfilling a dream for ASEAN potters

I organized the show in Ayala after two years of networking with ASEAN potters. The project began with the idea of sparking a series of regional ceramic activities. Meeting the potters and exchanging ideas with them through a website, www.seapots.com, we came to know each other and we enlarged our circle through virtual networking. With the generous help of Toyota Foundation, we were finally able to actualize this gathering of artists. With the project, I became even more aware about the importance and benefits of social networking for the growth and evolution of the craft that is just evolving into modern and contemporary expressions. The friendships generated by the activity were the icing on the cake, although to many of us, they were probably the most important elements to ensure the continuity of the project in the next decade.

During the past 10 years or so in ceramics there has been a significant and growing interest in the art of wood firing; sufficient enough to support wood fire magazines on the subject. With courage and determination, Coll Minogue and Robert Sanderson have sourced and discovered wood-firing ceramists in many parts of theworld who have written about their technical approaches and their aesthetic decisions for their work with clay.

There is another geographical area for The Log Book to explore perhaps. The South East Asian Ceramics Festival was held in the Philippines, in September 2009, and the accompanying exhibition, titled The Ring of Fire, featured a number of contemporary ceramic artists who regularly use wood as the fuel for their kilns. The organiser and chief mastermind of the festival was Hadrian Mendoza who, with dedication and generosity, invited ceramic artists from Indonesia, Cambodia, Malaysia, Singapore, Laos, Vietnam, Thailand and the Philippines to participate. Only Brunei and Myanmar of the groupof nations known as ASEAN (Association of South East Asian Nations)were unable to be present. The exhibition was held at the Ayala Museum, a fine colour catalogue was produced, and the glitterati of Manila joined in the celebratory opening, complete with music and traditional ceremony.

While most of us are familiar with the trade wares that flowed from China in the 15th and 16th centuries and the influence that those large brown jars and celadons had on local potteries, yet to see contemporary ceramics of such a high standard was a joy indeed. Hadrian Mendoza has a large anagama kiln which features a second chamber for salt-glaze at the back. The mixed hard and soft woods for firing come from fallen timber in the forests of Makiling, the mystic mountain which looms over well-appointed workshop adjacent to his house. Hadrian’s wife, Kim, a graduate in Fine Art, also makes ceramics, and together they have fired this kiln many times since 2006.

The recognised mentor of pottery in the Philippines is Jon Pettyjohn who, with his wife Tessy, also fire in an anagama kiln and while Tessy’s ceramics are more architectural, Jon’s works demonstrate his ability to make traditional wares such as tea sets, jars and platters that bring to his pots a contemporary feeling and would give pleasure in their use. Other wood firing potters showing work in the exhibition included Lope Bosaing, Sigrid Bangyay, Pablo Capati, Pete Cortes, all from the Philippines. Serge Rega, from Siem Reap in Cambodia, has a number of wood-fired kilns at his pottery workshop, The Centre for Khmer Ceramics, including one based on a traditional kiln replicating a design from centuries ago.

The Festival stretched over several days with visits, hospitality, efficiency and the warm charm of everyone involved. Held in the newly built Ayala Museum with its magnificent collections of ceramics, gold, and traditional costumes, the event attracted the participation of professional and aspiring ceramic artists. Each exhibiting artist was invited to give a talk on his or her work as well as a demonstration of particular techniques. By the final afternoon, nearly all the artists were working together: slab-building, coiling pots, throwing on the wheel, filling the conference room with knowledge and enthusiasm as cameras flashed, questions were answered and inspiration gained.

It occurred to me that wood firing is that which, some 30 to 40 years ago, captured our imagination for making pottery. Not only were we completely enchanted by the results, we were fully engaged in the processes: from making the clay, forming the pots and being totally involved in the firing. What fire can do to change the nature of clay and the other materials we are using takes intuition, experimentation, physical strength, the application of our minds and the perseverance and passion to keep trying to make that perfect pot.

Janet Mansfield is a ceramic artist with wood-firing and salt-glaze kilns. She lives in Gulgong Australia.
www.janetmansfield.com

Maranao, by Julie Lluch

Effervescence Series, by James Seet

polyp cups, by Vipoo Srivilasa

Life in Hyperspace, by Thomas Cheong

Bonded Energy, by Ahadiat Joedawinata

lidded jars, by Peter Low

Mushroom, by Bathma Kaew-Ngok

bowl, by Bao Toan Nguyen

ox jar, by Sisuk

Scholars Rock, by Janet Mansfield

nature series, by lileng wong

cone 10, by Tessy Pettyjohn

vase, by jon pettyjohn

vase, by Teck Heng Tan

self portrait, by kim mendoza

In 2007, Filipino potter Hadrian Mendoza envisioned a project to bring together potters from Southeast Asia in order to foster a sense of community, to revive traditional knowledge and skills and encourage the sharing of new techniques and approaches. Through this network, the project aimed to “invigorate cultural expressions of regional as well as local identities through pottery.” Dubbed as The Ring of Fire, the project culminated in an exhibition of works by contemporary potters and ceramic artists in Southeast Asia and a series of workshops at the Ayala Museum in the Philippines from October 21- November 11, 2009. The name of the project aptly describes Southeast Asia which is geologically surrounded by volcanoes. More than a geological allusion, it is also indexical of pottery and its process and the shared passion among potters and ceramic artists of the region.

As a dynamic region, Southeast Asia boasts of a rich historical and cultural tradition. Despite this, countries in the region have, for a long time, been dwarfed by more politically powerful countries such as China and India. In the literature on the early development of pottery in Southeast Asia, the region is usually divided into two spheres. One sphere consists of Burma (Myanmar), Cambodia, Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand which were heavily influenced by India. The other sphere is Vietnam which was influenced by China. Although Chinese pottery styles and techniques were passed on to artisans in the Philippines through trade as well as contact with the large population of migrant Chinese in the country, the weight of its influence is limited compared to that seen in Vietnam. Despite the strong influence of India and China, the different styles in the region reveal the ability of potters in Southeast Asia not only to assimilate but to adapt these influences to suit local tastes.

This dynamism continues to be evident in the works of contemporary potters and ceramic artists from Southeast Asia exhibited at the Ayala Museum. The exhibition featured the works of artists Serge Rega from Cambodia, Ahadiat Joedawinata from Indonesia, Sisuk from Laos,Yeow Seng Cheah, Hwee Min Low, James Seet and Lileng Wong from Malaysia, Sigrid Bangay, Lope Bosaing, Pablo Capati, Pete Cortes, Joey de Castro, Jaime de Guzman, Joe Geraldo, Winnie Go, Julie LLuch, Hadrian Mendoza, Camille Dacanay Mendoza, Jon Pettyjohn and Mark Valenzuela from the Philippines, Thomas Cheong and Alvin T H Tan from Singapore, Bathma Kaew-Ngok and Vipoo Srivilasa from Thailand and Bao Toan Nguyen from Vietnam.

Many of the works conveyed meanings that were borne out of local concerns yet are universally shared. A particularly engaging work by Vipoo Srivilasa entitled Polyp Cups draws from his bicultural experiences as a Thai artist currently based in Australia. According to Srivilasa, the work evolved from his concern for the coral reefs and ecosystems of Thailand and Australia and the damage being done to them as a result of human greed. He relates that the work is inspired by ceramic figurines of corpulent Chinese court ladies during the Ming dynasty which remind him of humanity’s greed and overindulgence. The works of Lileng Wong from Malaysia reference nature in a more intimate way as she draws inspiration from her personal experiences. In Nature Series 2, the base of one of the pieces alludes to two rocks piled on top of each other while the slightly bent neck suggests the graceful stem of a flower. Lamenting the loss of nature as it is currently overrun by high rise buildings in Malaysia, Wong’s work is a statement of the probable renewal of nature through art. Being a relatively young nation, Singapore does not have a long pottery tradition that it can call its own. Ceramics artists in the country also have to deal with the limited space and the lack of raw of materials. Singaporean artists Thomas Cheong and Alvin T H Tan however, are unhampered by these limitations. Their works reveal personal rather than local expressions as they deftly play with materials, form and color. The emphasis on form and materiality of medium rather than local identity is also seen in Effervescence, a work by Malaysian artist James Seet, where overlapping circles evoke the concept of repetition of forms and simplicity of glaze. One noticeable characteristic of contemporary pottery in Southeast Asia is that they continue to be influenced by other countries such as China, Japan and Europe. The use of glazes such as oribe, celadon and porcelain attests to this. A jar by Filipino potter Jon Pettyjohn utilizes local clay but is fired in an Anagama kiln. Malaysian artist James Seet states that while he sources his materials from local markets, his styles and techniques are a conglomeration of local and foreign influences sifted over the years.

While many of the themes find commonality across cultures, the local is still strongly inscribed particularly in the works of Filipino ceramic artists. Hadrian Mendoza’s Carabao and Noypi are both emblematic of national pride and belonging. Julie Lluch’s Maranao alludes to the women of Lanao in Southern Philippines while Lope Bosaing and Jaime de Guzman’s works reinterpret traditional rice wine jars from Northern Philippines. In his work, Bosaing combines the contemporary technique of firing in an electric kiln with the use of traditional reptilian motifs from Sagada around the jar’s mouth.

Aside from the exhibition, a series of forums were also held where critics, writers and artists shared their ideas and works. Pottery workshops were held where different techniques were shared such as throwing ten kilos of clay on the wheel and using a torch to create cracks on a ring of clay. A torch was also used to quick dry a thin layer from a slab of clay which was then stretched so that the dry part broke but the soft clay stayed intact, resulting in a cracked concrete road effect. The forums showcase the importance of workshops, lectures and discussions as collateral activities in an exhibition. They negate the concepts of exhibitions as static and museums as temples by engaging the audience in constructive discussions.

In pooling together potters and ceramic artists from Southeast Asia for this project, the question of whether regionalism is still valid or simply a passé historical concern comes to the fore. The Ring of Fire cannot be paralleled to regionalism in the United States in the 1930’s which aimed to subvert foreign (European) colonial influences in the arts and gave rise to the assertion of a singular style defined as local (American) and identified strongly with the region. While The Ring of Fire did not bring about the formation of a singular identity, it may be seen as a counterforce to the hegemony of countries such as China, with its long pottery tradition; Japan, with its continuing patronage of the art form; and Europe as the center of contemporary art production and management. By making visible the talent and dynamism of contemporary potters and ceramic artists in Southeast Asia, the project has truly given a voice to the region and allowed its artists to assert themselves in the global scene.

Another significant contribution of this project is that the showcase of diversity corrects previously accepted notions of the homogeneity of pottery styles in the region. Many Western scholars have underplayed differences in the pottery styles in Southeast Asia by conveniently grouping them according to spheres of influence and calling them collectively as Southeast Asian Pottery. The dearth of materials published on contemporary pottery in the region also stresses continuity of traditional forms and techniques at the expense of difference and change. By highlighting contemporary pottery in the region, the project has brought to light changes across time. The diversity of approaches, forms and techniques displayed by the works in The Ring of Fire also demonstrate the continuing validity of identity as a theme/concept in contemporary arts. While it is impossible to identify a single style that can characterize the pottery in Southeast Asia, the works foreground the notion that identity is constantly shifting and is subject to critical discourses and contestation. In the end, the significance of The Ring of Fire lies not in the quest for commonality but in the celebration of diversity.

"Bamboo Vase", 2003, anagama fired

"Bamboo Crack II", 2008, paprika glaze, reduction fired

"Bamboo Shift", 2004, Ipil Ash glaze, reduction fired

The bamboo has often been used as a favorite subject matter and theme in art, particularly in Asia where the plant is found in abundance. In the Philippines, the bamboo is recognized for its strength and beauty and in Philippine mythology, is the plant from which the first man (Malakas- Strong) and woman (Maganda- Beautiful) were born. The appreciation and use of bamboo in Philippine society is also grounded in its utilitarian value and has been made into utensils, boats, furniture, and musical instruments. Due to bamboo’s characteristics and its myraid uses in Phiippine society, potter Hadrian ‘Adee’ Mendoza became fascinated with the plant and has dedicated a life long series to it.

Born in the Philippines and raised in the US, Mendoza moved back home to retrace his roots and to reclaim ancestral memories. As an artist, he uses local materials and appropriates symbols of Filipino culture as powerful conveyors of communal identity. His works are highly personal and show his attempt to reestablish his lost identity and the artifacts that link him with his place of origin. His bamboo series is one of these cultural symbols. While Mendoza’s works are firmly rooted on Philippine iconic symbols, they also demonstrate the use of contemporary expressive forms as well as different types of glazes and kiln technologies. In his search for his roots and native identity, the seamless syncretism characteristic of his works proves that despite disjunctures caused by his constant movement and shifting identities, cultural influences need not collide and may be harnessed to produce a creative synthesis.

Mendoza first made his bamboo works in clay in 2000. He started with a simple cylinder with lines made by a stick to represent the woody jointed stem of the bamboo, which created the separation of the nodes. He then gradually worked on a bigger scale and made three separate cylinders with slight inwardly concave sides and stacked them together. Over the years, Mendoza has immortalized the bamboo from small to large scale works measuring more than three feet in height, experimenting with different shapes and forms and different glazes to produce a variety of color and texture. He has done different variations of the bamboo: rigid stems with nodes, bamboo shoots, Buddha bamboos with their swollen bellies, a bamboo stem literally sliced on top to look like a spear and a series representing the cross section of a bamboo. He has also used the color, texture, and form of the bamboo to create a beautiful tea cup. A recent piece called Buddha Bamboo Loaf is made by shaping clay into a loaf after which a piece of Buddha bamboo is pressed into the clay. It can be used as a vase where plants like cattails can be put into the hollowed out portions.

Most of his pieces are reduction fired using a gas kiln where the amount of oxygen inside is reduced by shutting the damper. This process produces stunning effects such as random speckles caused by iron pyrates. At times, he also fires his pieces in the Anagama, lending his works a more rustic and natural charm. In many of his forms, beautiful glazes run down the pieces which, according to Mendoza, “…is like a dew drop running on a leaf collecting at the edge before it falls to the ground.” The play of colors on Mendoza’s works are achieved by burning ashes of Philippine wood such as ipil, pine, and fruit bearing trees. He has made glazes of different shades of green from pine tress destroyed by storm and left along Manila’s South Super Highway. He also utilizes Pinatubo ash (Mt. Pinatubo ejected tons of ash during a major eruption in 1991) which gives his works a light brown and orange tint.

Mendoza’s Bamboo Slice depicts the cross section of a bamboo and was created by putting two separate pieces together. When the clay hardened after two to three days, the piece was put on its side and an opening sliced. The powerful running glazes are the effects of ipil ash. Another work with the same title completed in 2006 exhibits a beautiful reddish patina with yellow specks and purple lines. His Bamboo Vase suggests the elongated trunk of the bamboo, its node articulated, its natural galze highlighting the brownish tint of Philippine bamboos. The natural finish of one particular work done in 2003 is achieved by firing the piece in the Anagama- a traditional Japanese kiln. The work, therefore, blends a Philippine theme with Japanese kiln technology. Firing the unglazed work in the Anagama also gives the piece its characteristic rusticity.

Mendoza experiments with different types of glazes. His Bamboo Swirl (2003) is an engaging piece with a glassy yellowish brown surface created by jun glaze. The work evokes the image a young bamboo sprout shooting from the top. For this particular piece, the cylinders for the top and the bottom are first made and the swirl is then engraved with a piece of wood on a rotating wheel. When the pieces are hard enough, the two parts are attached together. Mendoza relates that he has recently been experimenting with paprika glaze on large pieces. His Bamboo Crack II shows the beautiful swirling of different shades of rich orange-red achieved through the mixture of small amounts of lithium carbonate and tin oxide and fired under heavy reduction atmosphere. Another piece, bamboo, displays the milky white surface achieved by using nuka glaze.

His bamboo pieces are highly expressive and are both functional and sculptural. Mendoza believes that form and function have a symbiotic relationship and that each is a vital component of the other. He relates that he usually works on the functional pieces to refine his technique for his sculptural pieces. According to him, “It’s like practicing for the real thing. But after going back to function from sculpture, I realize that it all goes back to function. This relationship between the two is what keeps me in the studio everyday, fresh every day. I think that most people who buy my work buy it because it looks good, not because it is functional or not. But once in a while I run into the buyers who ask, ‘is it functional? Can I use it?’”

Indeed, while all his bamboo pieces are functional and can be used as bowls or vases, they also display an edgy, highly expressive quality. A particular work, Extruder, for instance, is more conceptual than decorative. It is a play on the bamboo form showing a two dimensional brown line running from the top and ends as a three dimensional one at the bottom extruding from an open square.

Mendoza finds clay an interesting medium for sculpture because of its plasticity. However, he also recognizes the limitations of the medium in that clay is limited by size and has to survive the fire which puts a lot of stress on the form. Mendoza balances between spontaneity and control. He spends the day thinking of shapes and forms. “It’s a way I’ve trained myself to never run out of ideas,” he said. Potters like Mendoza constantly underscore the unpredictability of the outcome of their works and that chance and intuition play very significant roles in what the final product will eventually look like.

“Each day in the studio is a new one for me: my mind is blank and only when I prepare my clay do the ideas start forming. This way, my works stay on edge and are more spontaneous. It’s nice going to work not knowing what will happen, then ending the day by looking at the beautiful works that have been created. I’ve realized that too much planning and thinking causes a piece to become ‘stale’.”

Clay as a material is also highly unpredictable. According to Mendoza, “When you work with clay, you have to be willing to accept change, for the clay has a mind of its own and does what it wants. The potter just tries to control it with the fire during the glazing. It’s really out of my control.” While the lack of control over the outcome of the final product may also be perceived as one of pottery’s limitations, it is also highly prized by many potters like Mendoza who view this unpredictability as a characteristic unique to the process. For him, this process is a humbling experience where the potter is made ware of his/her vulnerability and the clay’s potentials. The potter therefore learns to respect the material and works in harmony with it.

Unlike most potters who fire their reduction kiln for 15 hours or less, Mendoza fires a kiln for approximately 17 to 18 hours. Accordingly, the longer firing gives the glaze more time to move around and create interesting results, dancing around or on a piece, creating more swirls and runs. His pieces are characterized by movement- whether it is the dancing swirls, the pinched surface, the contorted shapes- they all evoke a sense of dynamism. Hadrian Mendoza normally makes six to eight pieces in a series after which he moves on to the next, constantly experimenting with new ideas. Cognizant of the risks involved in this constant experimentation and discovery, he asserts that this is the essence of his art: that it is always new and that he is constantly being challenged to solve new technical problems encountered in the process. He states, “…the rewards are awesome especially when I look at the (different) pieces I have made in the span of one year. It reminds me of a dance from one shape to another.”

Stoneware potters Hadrian “Adee” Mendoza and his wife Camille “Kim” Nieves have been saturating their artworks with Philippine images. Motifs that mark memorable moments in their lives and scintillating patterns near their home and workshop at Mount Makiling’s foot in Southern Luzon’s Laguna have found their way into their creations. With frenzied hands, they have made traditional and experimental stoneware pieces that burst with beauty and life. Their artworks are like their diaries of celebrations and voices of affirmations that negate terror and ugliness.

As disciplined potters, Adee and Kim know the value of clay and its traditional forms even as they stretch its metaphysics with expressionistic shapes and figures. Trained potters, however experimental they are, will always be reined in by what clay stands for: humility, warmth, evanescence, fragility, beauty, and poignancy. Because clay is aged, nurtured, and caressed before it is glazed and fired to become strong, artists rarely use it as a medium in expressing anger, angst, and complaints about life.

Adee’s passion for local images tends to create iconic symbols of love of country. In 2008, he created a water buffalo’s head, a two-feet, bluish sculptural pot with two horns. “When I was making it, air could not go in and out of it during the initial drying period. The outside part of the clay dried faster and cooked faster in the kiln, creating tension, stretching and pulling that made the whole piece vulnerable to cracks. I didn’t get it right until 2009, the year of the ox. But only one piece survived after firing,” recalls Adee.

In early 2009, he returned to the same image. To avoid breakage, he assembled half-opened tubes in clay and created a powerful and eviscerated water buffalo in stoneware. Using the same technique, he used tubular forms to erect posts, roofs, walls, windows, and floor of his Bahay Kubo. It was a stronger version of an old Bahay Kubo that he made when he was a student at the Corcoran School of the Arts in Washington D.C., 12 years ago. At the time, his old Bahay Kubo was made of pots that precariously perched one on top of the other.

Instead of closing the pot’s lid as commonly done by potters who want to transcend traditional forms, Adee has assembled half-opened tubes to create more open sculptural forms. “It is an ergo dynamic approach that allows room for creativity and lessens breakage during firing,” he explains.

He created a low relief Philippine flag with shards, colorful tiles, and a big, colorful plate to represent the flag’s sun and its eight rays. In 2005, he made a stoneware Bulol, the rice god of the Igorots in Cordillera, Northern Luzon. He recreated Tikbalang, a half man-half horse character in Philippine mythology, in ceramics. He could not resist making a stoneware version of the “soul-boat” where two ancient figures paddled and sailed into the afterlife, a motif found on top of the 2,000 year old “Manungol” jar that archaeologist Robert Fox had unearthed in Palawan, Southwestern Philippines in the early '60s.

“I include Philippine imagery in my work to make a nationalistic statement. I am very conscious about that,” says Adee.

Explaining why he has several versions of these images, he says: “It is an idea fixe (a form of fixation). But when I repeat images, I come back to them with a new start, forgetting how I did them the first time to give them a new direction.”

To date, Adee has not yet made a contemporary version of the 2,000 year old man-shaped “Maitum” earthenware jars that archaeologists found in Maitum, Sarangani in 1991. He has not yet experimented with the tattoo-like texture of the Lapita Pottery of the ancient seafaring Polynesians, allegedly from Taiwan who reached the Pacific Islands, via Southeast Asia, in a 6,000 kilometer voyage in 1,000 years.

He finished business administration at the Mary Washington College in Virginia, followed by several semesters at the Corcoran School of the Arts in Washington D.C.

Twelve years ago, he left Virginia and stayed in the Philippines where he was mentored by stoneware masters Jon and Tessy Pettyjohn. Intuitively, he gave his art a home and an identity when he came home. Having grown up in the United States since he was seven, he was not aware that nationalism and search of roots have become valid quests among artists in the Philippines. For him, it was a deep thought that he cradled quietly, until it steadily and happily bloomed like blood-flowers on his art.

Camille “Kim” Nieves, on the other hand, has undergone a “fulfilling home-grown” creative process after she was married to Adee five years ago. She says she has been working on her art in between breastfeeding her two children, Banaue Marie, now 3, and Roja, 1.

“My artworks have been shaped by compassion and love,” says Kim whose recent work, a three-feet Mother and Child in stoneware, is part of a group show of Southeast Asian potters at the Ayala Museum, which opened in late September and will run until early October.

“My sculpture shows what I am going through,” says Kim whose work depicts a woman with exposed breast while holding her child like a part of herself. “I believe that everyone should understand what a woman goes through when she becomes a mother,” she says. “I am very creative now because I am happy with my children and my family,” she adds.

“Funny, but when I have the urge to work on my art, I also realize that I have other things to do,” says Kim, adding that creativity or being a genius should not turn any artist into a monster in one’s home. “Nurturing a family with my husband Adee and taking care of our children have inspired me to be more creative. The difficulty of working both for my family and my art has made me a better person and a more mature artist,” she attests.

“I have learned a lot while doing my first big stoneware sculpture. It takes a different discipline to make it. I want to do it again,” Kim says with enthusiasm.

In October 2007, she showed paintings of flowers, squatters, and couples made with coiled clay shavings, and beautifully colored stoneware shards (that looked like irregular mosaics). She assembled them on canvasses that were splattered with passionate colors and swirling strokes, depicting chaotic and exciting urban landscapes, colorful stoneware flowers on pots, and couples in clay.

In 2001, she graduated from the College of Fine Arts of the premier University of the Philippines, major in sculpture and minor in painting. For a year, from 2001 to 2002, she stayed in New York, following a six-week scholarship at the New York School of Classical Architecture. But up to now, she has never used images from New York in her art works.

When she came back to Manila in late 2002, she took up flying at Airspace which gave her a scholarship to pilot a fixed-wing Cessna. She became an amateur licensed pilot with 25 hours of flying time.

In 2003, she met Adee, her teacher at the now defunct Pettyjohn-Mendoza School of Pottery at Glorietta 4. In earlier exhibits, she emerged as a potter with a penchant for colorful works. Her square green plates, she says, were images of green rice fields that she saw from the top, when she was flying a plane.

When she became pregnant for the first time in 2006, her husband Adee made pots with big bellies. When they were refurbishing their home, Adee also made square and rectangular pots that looked like tall houses in clay. Their initials were inscribed in some of the doors of these art works.

Home for the creative couple is an airy, wide, and beautiful spot at the foot of Makiling in RFM Woodlands, a subdivision parallel to Ayala-Greenfields in Laguna, They have a gallery, a school for potters, and a big studio.

In 2007, Adee received a grant from the Toyota Foundation, which funded a project that pulled together Asean artists engaged in the craft of pottery. The couple met up with some potters in several Asean countries. They also connected with various communities of potters in the Philippines. In 2008, Adee created a website (http://www.seapotters.com) to expand the initial networking of Asean potters. For two years, Asean became a larger source of images for Adee and Kim. The project culminated with art exhibit and workshop attended by 16 Filipino and 10 other Asean potters at the Ayala Museum from September 21 to October 4.

"palayok"

"birth of a potter"

"emerging"

A Sense of Self and Place

While many contemporary potters in the Philippines are comfortable with traditional ideas of pottery as utilitarian and conservative in form and shape, the radical works of Hadrian “Adee” Mendoza prove that pottery has the potential to engage in critical and conceptual discourses at many levels. Mendoza’s self-portraits reveal the artist’s exploration of self-identity and depict how he sees himself through different stages of his life. Emerging I consists of three heads morphing into a human being. The expressive contortion of the heads and the absence of a torso recall the birthing process where the baby’s head squeezes out of the mother’s orifice, the runny brownish/yellowish glaze of the piece reminding one of the slime of afterbirth. This search for the self continues in his Emerging II, where his portrait comes alive as a fully morphed head with distinct features, arms and hands. This birthing process continues with his Emerging IV, where Mendoza’s head is shown squeezing out of a jar. In this work his mouth opens as if in a scream, expressing emotions that straddle somewhere between anguish and ecstasy. Mendoza relates that his use of body parts represents his early stage as a potter when he was working on body parts in segments and joining them to create structure and balance.

This motif of using dismembered bodies, however, recur in many of his works and reveal a deeper significance. This propensity for portraying severed limbs find affinity with the works of contemporary artists like Kiki Smith, Bruce Nauman and Robert Gober. It is said that the sense of flux, discontinuity and incompleteness signified by these severed limbs reveal the yearning for wholeness and, in many ways, the hopelessness of such yearning. Curator Helaine Posner states that the dismemberment of the body in late 20th-century art is no accident and that it is the result of living in a world in which violence, oppression, social injustice and physical and psychological stress predominate. Unlike this disillusionment expressed by the fractured human form and dismembered limbs in many contemporary works, Mendoza’s works reveal an ironic clash between disillusionment and hope. An arresting piece is his Birth of a Potter where his leg rests on his severed head. On his leg, a greenish sperm and egg meet to create birth, the orgasmic expression of his upturned face expressing pleasure and ecstasy. By juxtaposing these incomplete body parts with the concept of birth and its joys, the work affirms the possibility of wholeness.

This ecstasy over the moment of epiphany when clay was discovered is constantly expressed in many of his self-portraits. It is as if these body parts will one day find completion in the ecstasy of new discoveries, or in the perfection of his art. An arm, entitled Coming Down, where black fluid is seen streaming down from the back of the hand expresses Mendoza’s feeling of coming off from a high after making a piece which he believes is powerful. He also relates that many times what he thought was a groundbreaking idea would not come out as he had expected, and that he has become used to this cycle of thrill and disappointment, accepting this as part of the creative process. By emphasizing this cyclical process, his works are not a bleak reminder of the hopelessness of the human condition but affirm the possibility of creative redemption.

In contrast to the seemingly hedonistic self-discovery in his series of self-portraits, many of Mendoza’s works have also engaged with notions of Filipino identity. A Filipino born and raised in the US, he moved back to the Philippines in 1997 to retrace his roots and has since used local materials and symbols of Filipino culture as powerful conveyors of communal identity. He has pieces entitled Manunggul, Bulol, Pan de sal, Banka and Palayok, and more contemplative ones such as Pagninilaynilay or Paglubog ng Araw sa Calatagan. The colors on Mendoza’s pieces are achieved by burning ashes of Philippine wood such as ipil, pine and fruit-bearing trees. He also utilizes Pinatubo ash, which gives his works a light-brown and orange tint.

The work entitled Tikbalang reinvents a mythical Philippine creature with the upper body of a horse and the lower limbs of a man. Mendoza has recreated this mythical creature in more than three versions. The first one is symbolic, showing a horseshoe on a pedestal; the second, a ring on a pedestal; and the third, a tikbalang sitting on a ring mounted on a pedestal. The abstract form of a ring on a pedestal lends a contemporary feel to this series and is used as a leitmotif in many of his works. It is the structure upon which the bulol, manunggul rowers and mother and child are perched. According to Mendoza, “The shape of the ring provides a structural canvas for many of my works. The ring is one of my favorite shapes to work with, for it gives me many options in altering it. It is also a natural shape, coming from the potter’s wheel, which rotates in a circular shape. The ring to me symbolizes eternity and is a pleasing form to the eye.”

Mendoza’s functional pieces are not merely utilitarian but display the same expressive qualities found in his sculptures. A work, entitled Live Tea Set, for instance, is both functional and surreal. The biomorphic shapes of the pot and tea cups express fluidity and spontaneity, and recall the disintegrating figures in Dali’s paintings. A recent work, Kamiseta, is a vase shaped like a T-shirt with white glaze over hints of red and greyish hues. His more conservative pieces display powerful glazes evoking hints of nature such as the vivid blue sky, the sea and the fiery sunset. With these powerful works, it is indeed interesting to see what Mendoza will create in the future. Will he go beyond identity labels to explore new themes? If his works remain rooted to the theme of identity, how will he stretch the formal and conceptual possibilities of clay to reveal more complex issues?

"squatters I"

"tete a tete"

"squatters"

"crazy martian"

"boats"

"Shards and Shades"

Artist Kim Dacanay-Mendoza combines two loves, painting and pottery, to come up with works that are a visual delight.

By Alya B. Honasan

It’s suppose to be a barong-barong, but with shiny pottery shards stacked like a childs block against a sunny sky, the picture is far from glum. Instead, it’s a celebration of different textures, colors and elements coming together as pottery meets paint, in this happy union of two media by young artist Camille Nieves “Kim” Dacanay-Mendoza.

“Its something that ive wanted to do ever since I started doing pottery some four years ago”, says 28 –year-old Kim. “I guess you call this a collage , because its an assemblage of different forms seeking new unity and new meaning.”

The meaning naturally evolved from Kim’s own state of being. Married to a talented potter Hadrian “Adee” Mendoza, she lives with him and their little daughter Banaue Marie in “paradise,” at the foot of Mt. Makiling in Calamba, Laguna.

“Working in a pottery studio with my husband provided me with an abundant source of material,”says Kim. “Pots are everywhere, and so are the shards and rejects that we mostly throw away. One day, I told myself, hey, maybe I can do something with the broken pieces, so I started putting the shards aside, collecting rejects from our firings and trimmings. I just do whatever the ceramic pieces tell me to do, and then accents the totality by painting the background.” The ceramic pieces create an image in her head, Kim says, and the process is completed with a few strokes of oil paint.

Not that artistic pursuits are anything new; she was actually painting and sculpting first, having studied at the University of the Philippines College of Fine Arts, “where the system exposes students to different media before they can focus on their major.” Then she enrolled in a pottery school run by Adee and Jon Pettyjohn, and a new passion- as well as a life partnership – was molded.

Kim believes that clay is the ultimate three dimensional medium, while with canvas, “depth is created through color and texture. When you put both materials to work, you create a commonality: the painting achieves a three dimensional effect, while the ceramic pieces share in the illusion that the pain creates.”

Part of the fun is figuring out just what the pieces of clay are trying to tell her. “Its all about discovering the significance of something that would appear utterly useless. I try to tweak them into saying something. I love it when I am able to give new life to something that’s been otherwise discarded.”

Talk about fruitful recycling: glazed triangles make lovely sails for boats on a blue sea, while odd-shaped squares form the hovel in Squatter. Trimmings from the lip, the mouth of the pot in progress, makes perfect petals for flowers, curly strips of eart that literally pop off the canvass.

Kim recently concluded a successful show at Apartment 1b in Makati, and actually finds joy in balancing her art and her domestic duties as wife and young mother. “It’s hard, but doable,” she says with a laugh. “Well, im a full-time hands-on mom, but ive also been itching to work! When I did my show , I had to plan way, way ahead of the scheduled exhibit. For one thing, I could work only when Banaue was sleeping; awake, she demanded full attention. But then, theres a side to it that also contributed to my art. Banaue had been a source of both delight and discovery. She’s growing up and looking at the world with fresh eyes, and oftentimes, I find myself rediscovering the world through her.”

The rediscoveries will now reach a bigger audience, as Kim looks forward excitedly to her first show with Adee, to be held at the Philippine Center in New York this October. “He will fill the ground, and I will decorate the walls with my paintings. We’ve been preparing for this show for the past two years, and a good rhythm between our works has been established.” A delightful rhythm indeed, whatever the medium.

Potter Hadrian Mendoza teams up with uncle Rachy Cuna for an exhibition of ceramic pieces and sculpture.

When Hadrian Mendoza had his first pottery exhibit about a decade ago, his uncle Rachy Cuna was perhaps the proudest of all, touting the show to his friends and acquaintances like a veteran impresario who knew he has a winner on his hands.
Mendoza was an accidental potter. He was home for an extended vacation, having lived in the United States for several years, when a serendipitous meeting with ceramic artist Jon Pettyjohn got him interested in pottery.
After this show, he went back to the US for a while, then returned to become a “full-time” potter, making a name for himself and partnering with Pettyjohn in the Pettyjohn-Mendoza workshop.
Meanwhile his uncle, originally celebrated for his innovative and trend-setting floral arrangements, had also moved on, putting his talents to bear on such diverse projects as events and home-styling, painting, jewelry and home-accessory design.

Collaboration
It was not long before uncle and nephew decided it was time for a family project, a joint show. Both Cuna and Mendoza agree it was the younger man who broached the idea of a collaborative exhibit.
For Cuna, it was an opportunity to explore yet another field he had been wanting to go into- sculpture. “I had been doing sculpture but this is the first time I exhibit my work,” he said.
After a year of gestation, the show “Reunion- balance and form” was born. It features 30 sculptures by Cuna and 60 pottery items by Mendoza. They divided the work by having Cuna take care of balance and Mendoza in charge of form.
Cuna’s sculpted pieces are literally balancing acts- metal figures, many of them with human forms, holding crystal globes, feet firmly planted on solid kamagong blocks. The position of the feet changes ever so subtly, almost unnoticeable at first glance, from one image to the next.
Cuna, who as been christened “floral architect” for his sensational floral arrangements that defy convention by their use of unusual containers and accents, even having structures constructed, borrowed from the three-element principle of Ikebana with the materials of his sculpture representing earth (kamagong base), human being and the universe (crystal).
Deliberate or not, the pieces, all depicting the idea of balance, will no doubt appeal to people who believe in enhancing good fortune through the principles of feng shui.
Cuna’s playful, almost childlike images contrast and balance Mendoza’s solid and unusual variations on the basic square.
Though there are a few rounded items, many of the pieces are squares that have been pinched, flattened, skewed a little, stretched, turned into peek-a-boos, and generally just made to look anything but, well, square.
The unusual shapes draw the eye to vases even with just single stems of gerbera stuck in them. Fish swimming in large ornamental plates look almost like they have been “glazed” onto pieces, the water completely disappearing in the smooth, shiny finish.
Mendoza, who is related to Cuna on their mothers’ side, said the show was an opportunity to bring the family relationship to another level. He said he wanted to do the show because he knew what Cuna could do with spaces.
His uncle’s reputation as a multi-talented artist did not faze him at all. ‘I did not have to work differently. I always push myself hard, anyway,” he said. So working with Cuna was just another day in the office, so to speak.

Stoneware potters have dancing
hands. On their wheels, they slap a slab of clay,
raise it to life, and push their creations beyond the
limits of colors and forms only to aim for something
beyond form.

Hadrian Mendoza, a stoneware potter for almost ten
years, has hands that can command the shapes of
functional and sculptural forms, and eyes that are
forever hungry for colors and their stunning effects.
He has mastered the science of fire and chemicals. He
has patiently learned about craftsmanship from mentors
only to arrive at an understanding that there is
something that he cannot control in his own field
because pottery is also made by fire.

After years of working with clay, his hands have
learned how to move with agility and rigidity,
gracefulness and brute force, but his joys and
sadness, elation and despair leave their marks on his
works more than his signature.

Nine years ago, while a student at the Corcoran School
of Arts and Design in Washington, D.C., Mendoza made a
five-foot tall work entitled, “Chain Vase.” It was
fired at his school’s nine-foot tall kiln.

“Chain Vase” has strong horizontal lines traveling
across its orange belly. Its six sections are
deliberately shown, not hidden. “At the time, I didn’t
know how to hide the sections of a big jar. I could
not make them look seamless. To break its form, I
incorporated a long chain at a semi vertical angle
across the tall jar,” recalls Mendoza.

Interpreters say that the “Chain Vase” is a raw and
unconscious work of a Filipino artist who felt with
intensity the clashes of culture, his and that of the
host country,, while he was growing up in the US.

Last year, Mendoza has embarked on a project to make
another “Chain Vase”. He was confident that he could
recreate past works because of the expertise that he
has acquired from his mentor, Jon Pettyjohn, who is
known as the imminent father of Philippine pottery.

“But my way of working with clay has changed. The
movement of my hands has changed,” Mendoza explains,
adding, “My old Chain Vase has a stronger energy
because I did it when I did not know so much about the
discipline of pottery making.”

Theoretically, repeating an old vase can be done by
its creator.. “To do that, I have to step back and try
to change the position of my hands. I’ll look at the
pot, feel its lines and finger marks. I have to
remember how I helped my hands then. I’ll work quickly
with my palms instead of my fingers. I won’t think
much and I’ll have fun doing my work,” he says.

Mastery comes with technique. It is also the start of
an arduous struggle to make beautiful pieces with
energy that can delight more than bore with perfect
craftsmanship.
.
“I have recreated my style as quick as I can for the
past five years,” says Mendoza, who is known among his
peers for his penchant for expressionistic sculptural
pieces and reinvented functional forms.

Recently, Mendoza has been experimenting dangerously.
He has been stretching or “flopping” his clay for it
to reach softness that it might collapse when fired.
“It is one way of creating works with grace and
movement. Clay, as you know, is as hard as steel when
fired,” he says. He has allowed his glazes to run
wild, for texture and stunning effects, even if
uncontrolled drips can potentially ruin a pot during
firing.

“It’s like walking to the edge because all these
things have to be done quickly so that my stoneware
pots are not ruined when they are fired,” Mendoza
explains.

He has been using two or three basic natural glazes:
ipil ash which emit light greens; Pinatubo ash which
radiate with browns and blues; and sugar cane ash with
bring out shades of dark olive green.

“The point I am trying to reach by now is to make the
glaze and the shape of my work as one,” he says.
Despite the array of his beautiful works, attaining
this ideal “does not happen very often,” he says.

A hardworking potter controls the mixing and
preparation of his clay, the shaping and the glazing
of his works. “I do all these things,” attests
Mendoza.

Every potter knows that even if he has put everything
in order, chemistry does its own magic such that the
colors of stoneware pots burst or blend together on
their own until they attain a kaleidoscope of vibrant
colors. Funny, all these things happen while the pots
are inside a shut kiln, with fire, and beyond man’s
touch.

Hans Audric Estialbo talks to two sculptors who are looking to tradition for a revlution.

It was curiosity that led me to The Pinto Art Gallery in Antipolo, the venue of the annual Antipolo Arts Festival. The annual convergence of painters, potters, sculptors, and other artists picked an ideal setting: at the entrance to a city, yet still very much within the idyllic surroundings that characterize this small town just outside of Metro Manila.
The religion ringing in the air was the art these people practice, most of them fresh talents in different media, and some of them familiar names, like Hadrian Mendoza.
I first met Hadrian during a fund-raising exhibit to help stop women’s prostitution in the Philippines. Hadrian was, by that time, already quite a prolific sculptor; he has always been a firm believer in sculpture’s ability to connect a people to its origins. “Art is what keeps us connected with the roots we were born with. Amid technology and other modernity, pottery will survive the way it is surviving now,” he said.

GLAZED LOOK
He has, in the past, been referred to as Philippine pottery’s Picasso, having held an impressive number of exhibits in and out of the country and blown away a far more impressive number of enthusiasts with his skill in stoneware.
In recent years, Hadrian has mounted shows that has left an unforgettable impression of what pottery, and Philippine potter, for that matter, has to offer. His collection of functional pots, plates, bowls, tea sets, vases, glasses, pitchers, and slabs, stood in Pinto Art Gallery for a far simpler context: reinvention. Potters like him, undeniably, are up for nothing less than reinvention.
Prior to this engagement, he had traveled and researched extensively to expand his craft. “The shades of greens and browns and red in my work come from ashes of ipil, pine, and fruit-bearing trees, most of which were destroyed by storms and strewn along Manila’s South Superhighway,” he said. He has begged bakeshops for ashes, too; those who wood-fire their products were happy to supply him in return. He has visited sugar mills and the riverbanks of silted cities outside Manila for sugarcane and volcanic ash, where he finds the orange and brown colors he seeks to use in his work.
Hadrian still relies on the traditional ways of making his masterpieces; where some go with the tide, he goes against the grain. It is the young potter’s skill with glazing, however, that sets him apart.
Glazes- both utilitarian and decorative- play a vital role to the potter, and Hadrian takes his glazes seriously. He has, in the past, shared his technique: blending three types of glaze and mixing them to create white streaks that can adapt to any color. The combination of glazes has allowed him to achieve different results.
His pieces are nothing short of inspired- be they chess sets, drinking glasses, basins, or a sculpture of the mythical half-horse, half-human tikbalang on a circular plinth of green clay.
Although Hadrian first trained in the US, it was not until he came home to the Philippines that his affinity for native themes became apparent. “Pottery is different here in the Philippines- which was why I came back home. It’s just as different as those who practice it. It’s like recreating nature in a more permanent way- taking things form the earth like clay, ashes, trees, sand, powder, altering them into your desired shape or form, glazing them with your creativity, firing a piece of clay that might just give you the brightest hue of the sky or the sea or even the universe. We, as Filipinos, keep it blooming. It’s when you get down and dirty with dirt, ash, and clay that you feel the connection with the earth or with your culture,” he said.

FIRE FROM WITHIN
It is this sense of connection to one’s roots that is shared by another equally gifted potter, Pablo Capati III. Pablo is one of only two people in the country who have mastered the Anagama kiln, an ancient method first brought to Japan from Korea in the fifth century.
“Potters like us recreate the traditional- the natural- thing again. We create something to cope with the moderns. This is what keeps us rich,” Pablo said. Pottery offers a raw connection, a spirited desire to just let the hands do the talking while minutes and seconds disconnect one from a busy modern life.
But like all things in the world, there is a diversification in pottery. The approaches that divide those who practice it are the same dynamics that keep them together. Pablo does this with Anagama.
An Anagama (meaning “cave kiln” in Japanese) consists of a firing chamber with a firebox at one end and a flue at the other. Anagama kilns are sometimes described as single-chamber kilns built in a sloping tunnel shape; in fact, ancient kilns were sometimes built by digging tunnels into banks of clay. Unlike electric- or gas-fueled kilns that contemporary potters use, the anagama is fueled by wood, where a lrge amount of fuel is needed for firing until an appropriate temperature is reached. Stoneware and porcelain pieces will typically mature at a measure of “heat work” dependent on the final temperature coupled with the time required to achieve that temperature, which would reach as high as 1,300 degrees Celsius.
In this manner, fly ashes are produced as wood in the kiln is burned. Wood ash settles on the pieces during the firing, and in a complex interaction between ash, flame, and the minerals that make up the clay body, forms a natural ash glaze. The glaze shows incredible variation in all its texture, color, and thickness. It may range in texture from glossy and smooth, to rough and sharp.
Pablo said the placement of pieces within the kiln definitely affects the look of the piece; sometimes, the longer and the more fly ashes are present, the better and stronger the hues produced. As pieces closer to the firebox may receive weighty coats of ash, or even be immersed in embers, those deeper in the kiln may only be gently touched by ash affects.
Besides the location within the kiln, Pablo shared that the way pieces are placed near each other also affects the flame path and, naturally, the appearance of the pieces. The best thing about this, said Pablo, is that the potter can only imagine the flame path as it rushes through the kiln and use this sense to paint the pieces with fire.
This is why most of Pablo’s works look raw, almost prehistoric. In contrast with Hadrian’s, Pablo’s creations come out with different hues, the effects significantly embossed in every stroke of color.
A slab in the middle of the gallery- the centerpiece of his collection- stood out from the rest of his works. This, he said, took a month to make, and was helped along, by accident, by the quirks of the Anagama. “It was supposedly a bigger slab that I tore in two, with my feet no less, and with the amazing faculties of wood firing, became what it is now.” It was almost 16 feet high, ruined on the edges, with a surface that looked wounded and elegant at the same time.
The rest of his masterfully crafted pieces, created by the work of both hand and foot, took demanding hours to put together. Present in his gallery were big carved pots that swank of ash colors and a splendid finish that are perfect for display. A big circular pot was in one corner, its powdery texture was the reason it stood out among the other objects around the area.
For both Hadrian and Pablo, nothing much has changed since potters of old expressed their art in clay and fire. In fact, they say, things should stay the same. Given the richness of Philippine culture, contemporary Filipino artists can look to their own selves for inspiration, and, through common methods of creating pottery, connect with a past they share with many other artists from distant parts.

Preview- The humble chawan and its noble roots are celebrated in a major international exhibition in Belgium. Ceramic Review takes a sip.

The connection between ceramics and tea-drinking has a rich, evolved culture. The qualities of handmade ceramic vessels have much in common with the virtues revered by the Japanese tea ceremony, or chanoyu, which developed into an art form after the ninth century when tea was introduced to Japan from China. Much like the ceramics it used, the simple act of tea drinking became symbolic in Japan of an appreciation of nature, simplicity and imperfection, and later a high art advocating harmony and balance.
The sweeping influence of this culture is celebrated in Joy of the Noble Teacup, a major project organized in Belgium by Lou Smedts and Kaori Goyen-Chiba, to explore the ceramic heritage of the chawan, or oriental tea bowl, and to trace its roots. Chawan makers from Asia, Europe and the Americas participating in the exhibition reveal a great diversity of vision relating to this simple vessel loaded with tradition. However simple, the chawan performs the essential role in the tea ceremony as the direct connection between host and guest, and is therefore capable of transcending its humble function to assume a powerful cultural significance.
Among the sixty-seven participants from sixteen countries are Jack Doherty (UK), Roland Summer (Austria), Vladimir Shapovalov (Ukraine) and Akiko Ozutsumi (Japan). This evocative collection fascinates, tantalizes and resonates with the spirituality of the culture it celebrates.
Joy of the Noble Teacup is showing at Gallerie La Fabrick, Herstal, Belgium from March 12- April 2, and tours to Paris later in the spring. For further information, image gallery and future exhibition dates see: website www.jnt.info

Top: Chawans by Jon Lorenzo Pettyjohn and Hadrian Mendoza of the Philippines
Bottom Left: Hilda Merom (Israel)
Bottom Right: Akiko Otzutsumi (Japan)

I wanted a wedding gift that was both a work of art and something that would become a part of the couple’s everyday lives. I found it in a potter’s studio…

Last year, my oldest nephew Kim announced that he and his long-time girlfriend, Nikki, were getting married. I adore my nephew, who’s 10 years my junior and whom I practically watched grow up, and his wife-to-be is an equally intelligent and wonderful girl. So, when the two asked me to be a godmother- for the first time in my life!- at their Boracay wedding, after getting over the initial shock at the realization that I am indeed old enough to have kids of marrying age, I began my search for the perfect wedding gift.

I was, of course, pressured to find something both fabulous and unique with a corresponding hefty budget. I toyed with the idea of artwork, but somehow the idea of giving them something to hang on a wall or put on a table for static display did not appeal to me. The couple already has a full furnished house in Davao where Kim finished school and established his business, but they have also acquired a small tract of land on which to build a home in Boracay, where Nikki enjoys her work at the Mandala Spa. So, whatever I picked had to be appropriate for either an existing suburban home or a cozy beach house in the making.

And then, last January, I chanced upon few pieces of stoneware pottery by Hadrian “Adee” Mendoza, the gifted young potter, one time protégé of the great Jon Pettyjohn, and now a teacher and accomplished artist in his own right. I first encountered Adee’s works up close when we featured him last year in the Sunday Inquirer Magazine, in conjunction with his two-man show with his mentor, and I marveled at how his functional works had a modern edge, while remaining effortlessly utilitarian. His artworks, meanwhile, had the same edge, tempered with whimsy; his free-standing Tikbalang sculpture is a sleek tower, topped b a pensive little figure of the mythological creature.

Adee discovered pottery through sheer serendipity, when the business graduate was looking for an elective course in his senior year of college at the Mary Washington College in Virginia. “It felt good in my hands,” recalls the 32-year-old Adee. “And the possibilities were endless.” After training in pottery studios in the US, he came home to Manila to apprentice with Pettyjohn, leading to a first one-man show in 1998 at the Metropolitan Museum of Manila, “7 Months in the Philippines.” Since then, he has had about a dozen one-man shows and countless group exhibitions, the last being a solo show at the Philippine Center in New York last November, and is looking forward to a twin bill show with his uncle, stylist and designer Rachy Cuna, later this year.

Adee has moved back to Manila for good, taking to heart the idea that pottery is very much intertwined with culture, and choosing to literally work with the soil he was born on. He married Kim Dacanay, also a pottery artist, last year, and they’re expecting their first child in September.

Although Adee has set prices for his pieces, and charges less for big orders- a single, very large glazed platter would go for about P20, 000, for example- I worked from the other end, giving him a budget and asking him what he could do with it. His offer was a 34- piece table set for six- glasses, plates, saucers, bowls and coffee mugs- plus three serving platters and a pitcher.

Cognizant of the nature of handmade stoneware, and of the fact that artists work best when they’ve got a blue sky above them, I only told Adee that Kim and Nikki loved the sea, and he could use that as an inspiration. Otherwise, it was entirely his call. As it turned out, giving Adee creative freedom was the best thing I could have done. “It’s very important that a client trust me,” Adee says. “I always tell clients to give allowance for change and surprises. If somebody comes to me with very detailed specifications, I usually say no.”

About a month after we spoke, Adee fired a test plate and told me on the phone how “beach” it looked. He originally planned on white plates, but he also asked if I had any objections to using colors like blue and brown, as some apparently didn’t like eating off colored plates. “My pamangkins will eat off anything,” I told him. “Please go wild.”

The results, completed after two months, and as you can see on these pages, were exquisite. Adee played around with the idea of sand, water and a soft shoreline, and the plates and saucers depicted a beach and the endless blue horizon. The mugs, the large vases and the pitcher carried the colors of sand and sea at night, while the bowls called to mind drops of water left on the sand after the waves have receded. The masterpiece, to my mind was the stunning platter with different glazes that Adee had poured on while he turned the edges. It looks like what you would see when you drop a rock in the shallows- a patch of bare sand in the center, with the water radiating in different shades and consistencies around it. It took all my willpower not to keep the platter for myself!

All in all, I was very pleased with the results. As of this writing, Kim and Nikki have yet to see the set, but I’m certain they’ll love it. And I’m tickled at the thought that two people I love very dearly will be eating off works of art, everyday of their lives.

Coming home from a scholarship at the Institute of Classical Architecture in New York, Kim Dacanay-Mendoza found herself flying airplanes before discovering her passion for pottery

While searching for her place in the sun, Camille “Kim” Dacanay-Mendoza found her passion in pottery.

“I was listless coming home from a summer scholarship at the Institute of classical architecture in New York City,” says Kim, who graduated from the University of the Philippines College of Fine Arts major in Sculpture.

“I wasn’t quite sure of what to do, what work I could pursue. I enrolled at a flying school. Flying airplanes was easy; the difficult part was in landing the plane. My parents were scared and I was getting stressed.”

On the prodding of her mom, Kim checked out a pottery school in Makati run by the well-known potter for Los Banos, Laguna, Jon Pettyjohn. “At day one I was hooked, probably because I missed handling clay, which was what I did in College. I went to the Pettyjohn-Mendoza pottery school twice a week but wanted to attend more classes, so I asked Tessy Pettyjohn if they have other classes.

She said “Go to Adee Mendoza’s class.” What I did not know was that I was being set up with Adee, who had studied business in Mary Washington College in Virginia but decided to come home and be a full-time potter here.

“We became friends instantly. I apprenticed with him. I didn’t want to stop doing pottery and told myself this is what I want to do.”

Not long afterwards, Adee and Kim became partners, not only in pottery making. They got married in 2005.

They live in a comfortable house surrounded by nature with a workshop close by at the foothills of Mt. Makiling in Calamba, Laguna. Two rottweilers keep them company.

As a potter, you do functional pieces of artwork, says Kim. “It is an intimate kind of art, because you tend to use your pottery pieces everyday.
The difference between pottery and sculpture is that, with sculpture you work longer to finish a piece. I use modeling clay in sculpture and its feel is quite different from the clay used in pottery.

“Masarap gamitin ang clay. With potter’s clay, though, you have to work continuously until the clay allotment is used up. Otherwise tumitigas ito. It’s not like sculpture, where you can pause and then pick up again where you left off.”

After doing pottery for two and a half years, Kim is still at it as though she just picked it up yesterday. “This is the craft for me, I hope, for life. I will stay with pottery because I like it. This is what I want to do. I can always go back to sculpture if I want to.”

Adee and Kim had a sold-out show last November in New York, at the Philippine Center. This month, Kim will have a show at Beyond Bamboo in Makati City, with an assortment of vases, plates and fan pots, among others. Another show is planned for December.

To be a good potter, says Kim, “You need to have discipline, as in everything else. And lots of patience, too”

She says she makes an average about 20 pottery pieces a day. “I work everyday, as much as possible. Most of the pieces are sold in shows. A few are orders from clients. We have clients like Armida Seiguion-Reyna and some foreigners. Last year we did just fine in spite of the sluggish economy.”

For the moment, she says she is taking it easy because she is expecting their first baby in September. “This is more important than anything else,” she says. “But I still try to put in some work in the morning, and from 2-5 in the afternoon.”

“It is quite fulfilling to see all the work you’ve done. The studio feels sad if it’s empty. Adee and I get the urge to fill it up.”

Kim says she gets a lot of ideas from reading. “I read a lot, an influence from my parents (journalists Barbara and Alex Dacanay).

“Sometimes, designs and ideas come in my dreams. And I try to draw or put them on paper. I have a doodle book for that. Then I discuss it with Adee to see if an idea works or not.”

“He is my mentor. I ask him anything. We inspire each other but when we are working in the studio, we don’t disturb each other. We each do our own thing.”

Kim and Adee are among the few artists in the country who are dedicated to pottery. They are the junior colleagues of the Pettyjohn couple, Jon and Tessy. Adee is Jon’s partner in the pottery school.

“Our works are similar in the sense that we create functional art pieces,” says Kim. “But we are not the only ones in the craft. There are some upcoming ones, and we gather once a year for the pottery tiangge at Glorietta in Makati. We have organized a foundation called Putik.”

“Doing pottery is a very rewarding endeavor, kahit physically masakit ito sa katawan,” says Kim, “Especially after the pieces are fired, and you see the various ways that the designs have come out.”

There is always excitement when we open the kiln. Each piece is truly one of a kind. Each batch always has a surprise. There are times when I feel I don’t want to part with certain pieces or batches. I get selfishly attached sometimes.

“But then, unlike with sculpture, in pottery you make a lot and it is easier to let go. I definitely don’t want to let go of my sculptures. I have not some any of my sculpture kasi I do it with passion. With pottery, you are a bit like a machine: You make and make. Pottery also requires passion, but since you produce several pieces by the lot, it’s easier to let go.

“Selling art pottery is hard if you don’t know anyone. Hard, because it is expensive. But then, engaging in this craft is a joyous endeavor, because you are doing what you want to do. Masaya magtrabaho, even if you work alone.

“Every single piece of pottery I do is creative. Pottery changed my life- completely. My parents are happier because I am doing what I like. I resisted doing art at first but eventually I found my art for me. Now I am no longer lost, I am found.
In time, I will be good in this craft. I will keep trying to do better than the last time. And my name, hopefully, will be associated with pottery, as well.”

Filipino American sculptor and potter Hadrian Mendoza draws on Filipino indigenous culture for inspiration for his creations.

For the past nine years, Hadrian Mendoza, a Philippine-born artist from Washington D.C. has been making intermittent trips to his homelands in arduous search for indigenous color and form for his pots.

The search for identity, common among Filipino artists and writers who are based in the Philippines, is unusual for Mendoza who grew up and studied in the United States.

“I have been coming home for culture”, Mendoza says of his sojourn in Manila in 1997, after finishing a business Administration course at Mary Washington College in Virginia, and a year of studies at the Corcoran School of Art in Washington D.C.

“Bulol” is the latest of his search for the heart and soul of the Philippine pottery.

Bulol is the wooden rice god of the Igorots who made the world-renowned rice terraces in Banaue, northern Philippines two thousand years ago. The antique rice- god had an oversized bald head, oval –shaped eyes, protruding ears with holes, a wasp waist, short and small limbs with hands on knees. Mendoza’s stoneware version is a shining and colorful bulol with open knees, seated on to of a big circle with a vertical pedestal.

Mendoza’s other recent experimentation in the Philippine shape is “Tikbalang;” a powerful half-horse/half-man figure in Philippine folklore. His “tikbalang” has a powerful organ that is half-hidden under long legs. It’s also seated atop a giant ring on a pedestal.

According to folk legend in the Philippines, the tikbalang’s knees are higher than its head. The creature lives in dense forests and slimy swamps, and waylays travelers who can find their way again by wearing shirts in reverse.

In 2004, Mendoza created a colorful series of “Manunggul”, a boatman carrying a passenger into the other world. Mendoza has propped the eerie-looking boatman and his passenger on top of a colorful ring and a vertical base, as if to overpower the pull of the death boat.

He was inspired by the Manunggul jar, a 3,000-year-old funeral vessel (dated 710 and 890 B.C.) which was unearthed by Filipino and American archaeologist in the Tabon Caves of Palawan in southwestern Philippines in 1964. It was discovered with a 22,000-year-old skull, which is now known as the Tabon man. The elaborately designed manunggul jar has been described as the most beautiful vase unearthed in Southeast Asia. The Philippine government has declared it a national treasure. It is now illustrated on the 1,000 peso bill.

“The emotion I feel when working in the same spirit of these ancient works is a powerful one,” he says of his creative process, adding, “I ask myself how and why these pots are Filipino. I still run around in circles. As I contemplate what I will do next, I feel something boiling inside of me.”

“Looking at books and pictures of ancient Filipino forms and sculptures, I have incorporated into my work a version of my own,” he explains. Why not? “There are many versions of the Filipino idols and gods, all have morphed in the hands of their creators, each new one evolving into artworks of modern era.”

In past shows in Manila, Mendoza’s bamboo formed signified his seriousness about cultural identity. The hankering for something Filipino has always been with him even while he was a student in the U.S. In 1996 he made “Bahay Kubo,” a creative rendition of a Philippine nipa hut in stoneware.

Before venturing into sculptural works and conscious search for Philippine forms, Mendoza disciplined himself with functional pieces in the tradition of Asia’s master craftsmen.

His pots, plates, tea sets, bowls, pitchers, glasses, slab plates and vases are a craftsman’s happy re-invention of the functional pieces often used and taken for granted at home.

Mendoza had also become a shaman in conjuring unusual colors on his pots. “Juicy” hues run a swirl blazingly on round and flat surfaces. Colors simmer or flare, making his pieces as brilliant and luminous as Manila’s sunset, or as lush as Philippine countryside. They imbue his pottery with emotions; temperamental or shy, bold or conservative, all hinting of a Filipino soul.

Mendoza had patiently searched for the magic of “natural” colors in Manila and in the provinces.

He gets storm-struck pine trees along Manila’s South Super Highways. Their ashes give various shades of green. He scouts for ipil and fruit-bearing trees in the forest of Laguna in Southern Luzon, for variants of blues, browns and reds. He begs for ashes from bakers with wood-fired ovens. He retrieves sacks of sugarcane ash from sugar mills. He scrounges for the ashes of Mount Pinatubo (which erupted in 1991) from silted riverbanks in Angeles City, 45 kilometers north of Manila. It has twin colors, light brown and orange.

“Now, I know how to get a nice blue-white swirl in the middle of plate,” he boasts of his enormous plates that shine with memories of Philippine landscape.

The use of natural glaze has become an art movement among Philippine potters. “Parts of trees and sand are made into powder and ash. Using them as glaze on a piece of clay, who knows, after firing, their colors might give a hint of the sky, nature of the universe. Its like recreating nature in a more permanent way,” Mendoza explains.

Which aspect of pottery is more challenging, the shape or the color? “Now that I can make any shape, I think glazing will be the challenge for the rest of my life” he answers.

Mendoza was a recipient of the prestigious Anne and Arnold Abramson award for excellence in ceramics in 1996. But an eight-month apprenticeship in 1997 in Manila with Jon Pettyjohn , a half American- half Filipino artist acknowledged as the father of Philippine pottery, made Mendoza decide on a life long commitment to pottery. Together, they set up the Pettyjohn-Mendoza Pottery School in Makati in November 1999.

Mendoza his studio with a gas fired kiln in Makiling, Laguna in February 2001. Since 2004, he has been teaching at the Makiling high school for the Arts, also in Laguna. Participating in pottery festivals in Japan and South Korea from 2002-2005 has brought him to the heart of Asia’s way about pots. (See his website at www.hadrianmendoza.com)

Hadrian Mendoza will exhibit 50 pieces for his ceramic exhibit at the Philippine Center from November 7 to 18, highlighted by his exploration of various glazes and by inclusion of his Bulol series sculpture.

Mendoza has worked in or traveled to the Philippines since 1997, after college in Virginia and studies at the Corcoran School in Washington DC, where he was awarded the Anne and Arnold Abramson award for Excellence in Ceramics. The 30-year-old is particularly excited about this show.

He told this writer, “I have prepared about eight months for this, and the works have changed a lot in that time frame. My ceramic works use all Philippine-based materials of clay and ash.”

The ashes can be from ipil or pine trees or sugarcane or from Mount Pinatubo, even from the wood burned in bakeries in the Philippines.

“I made some glazes from pine trees that were destroyed by storms and strewn along Manila’s South Super Highway,” he recalls, yielding “light green- not celadon- but different shades of green.”

The result is a collection of brilliant ceramics that incorporate his image of forms indigenous to the Philippines. His glazes will lead to unique pieces: “I have used combinations of glaze over and over again, and the results are always different.”

He has also included two works from a series, called “Bulol,” based on the Igorot rice god.

“There are many versions of Filipino idols and gods, all have morphed in the hands of their creators, each new one evolving into artworks of a modern era,” Mendoza says.

Mendoza decided to continue the path of pottery after apprenticing with Jon Pettyjohn. They founded the Pettyjohn-Mendoza Pottery School in Manila in late 1999. He teaches at the Makiling School of the Arts in Laguna. With his frequent forays to other Asian countries, he has sought to further research and explore indigenous forms that he seeks to re-image in his striking works.

It was meant to fill up a light semester, this pottery course that Hadrian Mendoza took during his last year in college in 1995. So imagine everyone’s surprise when he, a US-based business major who set his sights on becoming a chef, junked all his grand plans to pursue a passion even he didn’t know he had.

“I was hooked. I liked working with the material from day one,” says Mendoza, whose only two experiences with pottery then were molding colorful Playdoh as a child and living in a home teeming with his mother’s antique jar collection. “Although my works weren’t really good at the time and I knew that being a potter was going to be hard, my professor told me, ‘Stick with it because you’re going to be good at it someday.”

Nine years later, Mendoza finds himself in the middle of his most important show to date- a back-to-back exhibition with Jon Pettyjohn at the Art Space in Glorietta 4, Ayala Center, Makati. It is a match-up both daunting and inevitable, with his modern stoneware platters and vases displayed to Pettyjohn’s traditional pots an jars. Mendoza, wo taght pottery in camps and community centers in Virginia, served as an apprentice for eight months in 1997 to Pettyjohn, whose name and the word “pottery” ae practically interchangeable in the local art scene. For Mendoza, sharing the spotlight with a man “who set the bar on how a potter should be, has challenged me to push myself further and put out my best works yet.”

He’s certainly got the technique down pat; making his own clay, one of many things he learned from Pettyjohn, is now deemed “second nature.” For now, the struggle, he admits, lies in “trying to figure out what a Filipino pot is like, so when someone sees your work, he knows instantly that it comes from this region. I don’t know if I’m successful at that.”

Mendoza was halfway around the world when he arrived at an epiphany. Back in the States after apprenticing with Pettyjohn, “It suddenly dawned upon me,” says Mendoza, “How I’ve always been taught that ceramics reflects the way people lived at a certain age and time- why they made their pots, burial jars and idols the way they did. Knowing that pottery and culture are intertwined, I realized then that I would be lying to myself as an artist if I worked with clay in a place where I wasn’t born. That’s the reason I came back. To find my culture.”

Mendoza, in fact, would find more than his culture upon his return; he found a home, setting up a school with Pettyjohn in Greenbelt, Makati in November 1999, and a studio with a gas fire kiln in Makiling, Laguna, where he resides. Today, the young potter teaches twice weekly in Makati and on Sundays since Octobe, at the prestigious Makiling School of the Arts. “I still have a lot to learn,” says Mendoza who also offered the pottery course in UP. “But I know enough to teach kids to open their minds about the possibility that pottery may be the art for them. Don’t leave your options to just painting, sculpture, metal or wood. Give this a chance and see what clay can do for you.”

Tattoos streaming from his arms up to his fingers suggest a tough, rebel streak. But Mendoza, nephew of famed Floral Architect of the Philippines Rachy Cuna, is actually a gentle soul who leans towards wholesome, outdoor activities. He plays basketball and badminton, walks his two Rottweilers, and likes to go on long drives whenever he needs breathing space from work. He also likes to listen to Pinoy rock (Bamboo and Kapatid are on his playlist) and used to hang around a lot with bands. But those days are over since “it kind of messes up my schedule at work.”

Shrugs Mendoza who speaks with an American twang: “Ganoon, eh, that’s all I do. I don’t drink and I don’t go to bars. My life revolves around pottery. It sounds sad,” he observes with a laugh, “but actually it’s not.”

The element of surprise is what piques this potter’s interest; the irony that no matter how much control you exercise over the clay, the final results are almost always, literally out of your hands. Surveying his stoneware pieces, the would-be chef who walked into a pottery class nine years ago says, “Nothing here has been set in stone in my mind before it was made. Zero. In pottery, you have to respect the fire and the way the clay behaves. You also have to be very patient and forgiving of your medium. Of course, you’re always hoping that things work out the way you want it. But when it doesn’t, you just have to accept it as neither bad nor good.”

Reflects Mendoza: “That’s the high that you never lose. Whenever I feel drained from work, I open up my kiln and I’m reminded of why I am here.