Chris Baumann

Chris Baumann Artist Bio

I was raised in Appleton Wisconsin, home of Houdini. It was great place to grow up, other than the harsh winters and the long run of bad Packers football I had to endure. After a short drinking binge at Ripon College, I attended Middle Tennessee State University.

It was here that I discovered my passion for clay. While I went on to finish my BS in Art Education and a teaching certification, I stayed for an extra year to finish a BFA in Clay. The following year I moved to New York City, and worked in my brother's framing shop. I wasn't all that happy living in New York, so once I was accepted to the graduate program at Wichita State University, I headed to Kansas. In 1995, I graduated with my MFA in clay.

For the past 12 years I have shared a pottery business with my friend, Stacey Stanhope.

I currently live in Woodstock Georgia with my two cats. No jokes please.

Chris Baumann Artist Statement

Have you ever had stopped to tie your shoe and noticed a wilting flower, a green tipped penny, a crumpled tissue, something that just changed your whole perspective of where you are and how to look at the world? You're down on one knee, feeling the concrete sidewalk digging into your skin, fingers wrapped around the cotton laces and you notice a different world. Focus changes from the far and large to the near and small. Just for a moment you might see the wind blow the grass, feel the sun on your neck, or note the sound of your breath. You might think of a different time and place; you might feel cold or warm, discontent or passion. You're not where you just were.

But then you get up, resume your walk and forget.

This is what happens when I pick up a cup of coffee in the morning. Just for a few minutes I'm completely aware of the mug in my hand. Most likely it isn't my mug, I have very few of my own. A good sturdy mug, a thin delicate cup, a tall handsome mug; all can move my focus from the big picture to the small. I see more than a vessel; I'm aware of the size, texture and the feel of the form. I think of who made it, and why it's important to me. I take a trip away from my kitchen, just for a moment. I strive for a similar response to my work in those who see and use my pottery.

I want my pottery to blend in, comfortably appear to be part of a whole, not stand out and shout. But once picked to be used, or noticed on the table, I want it to engage the audience with a quiet power, move them to a different place and time.

The salt kiln does most of the work for me; it softens harsh lines and adds earthy colors and textures to the flesh of my pots. I stick to simple patterns and images, maybe a touch aboriginal in appearance. In my newest work I fill the negative space of the pottery surface with rhythms of dots, no longer always relying on the good graces of the kiln gods. I'm particularly excited by the tile-like affect of the dots and I see new possibilities looking to the future.