Ayumi Horie

Ayumi Horie Artist Statement

I grew up in a mill town in Maine where huge brick factories built along the river dominated the skyline. Most people were generally either French Canadian or Anglo, so it was unusual to see anybody half Japanese. This biracial and bicultural duality has continued to inform my identity and my work. I received my B.A. from Mount Holyoke College in 1991, my B.F.A. in ceramics from the New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University in 1996, and my M.F.A. in ceramics from the University of Washington in 2000. I work as a studio potter in the Hudson Valley of New York, about 2 hours north of New York City. I have taught workshops and given lectures at many art centers and residencies in the U.S., including Haystack, the Archie Bray Foundation, and Greenwich House Pottery. Since 2004, I have been on the board of directors at the Archie Bray Foundation, where I was a resident for two years between 1996 and 1998.

My work revolves around the idea of comfort, both physical and psychological. By using material generously and by having a sense of soft gravity in the walls of the pot, I hope to impart a feeling of quietness and contentment. Finger marks and dents are unconcealed and even celebrated, because what could be more comforting than the handmade? I want my pots to be poetic; the sag at the base of a pot may counterpoise a thin, articulated lip or glazed yellow sprinkles around a bird may suggest excitement. I love drawing animals and being engaged in their dramas.

My work is largely informed by the process by which I make it. I try to rely on the skill I have in the moment of making and accept what my state of mind brings to it. My cardinal rule is not to overwork a pot, but rather to throw it or assemble it with freshness and candor. If a tear develops, I patch it with a band-aid of clay; if a pot is accidentally dented, it becomes another thing that defines its character. There is great pleasure in understanding a pot's history of making. At Alfred as an undergrad, I developed a process called "dry throwing" in which I trim to center using a pin tool, scoop out the inside using a loop tool and thin out the walls by pushing them out with a rib. I use no water because I like the surface of moist clay, rather than wet. This method allows me to preserve the inherent textures in clay that I love- the stretching, cracking, and sagging. Fingerprints have a different kind of crispness and I can coax out a delicate edge of a line on a massive wall. Using this method, I can also work more spontaneously and intuitively because I don't have to wait for the clay to dry out quite so long. When I glaze, I try to keep up the same level of spontaneity and intuition so I can keep things real. I've found that if I set up 100 cups to glaze at once, my exhaustion and desperation at coming up with new ideas and variations pushes me to take risks and grow.