Sometimes I think back to when the Freedom Convoy moved though Steinbach. I think about which “side” of the fence I was on and how that shaped my sense of the protest. Then I think back to the people in my life who were on the “opposite side” as me. I think about what the bridges were between us. Sometimes I felt like the gap was bridgeable, but sometimes I felt like the social dialogue prohibited crossing any bridge back to a shared sense of the social landscape.
I remember a moment in the pandemic where I felt the social fabric had been torn. I remember thinking our leaders were in fact tearing it on purpose to gain compliance, pitting us one against another–and I did not have the skills to know how to mend the gap that emerged. I have thought about that since then, and I continue to think about it. When it social fabric is torn, what helps to mend it? What can bridge the gap between me and those who I find myself at odds with?
It’s not hard to look around and find examples of torn social fabrics, the binaries that divide one side from another. They function to galvanize us, give us identities, and it feels like they have only increased in the social landscape. Without any effort I can feel myself drawing my own lines of division.
I stand here, and not there.
This is us. That is them.
I am right. They are wrong.
But what if instead of tracing the faultlines of division, what if there were ways to bridge the gaps? What if there were practices that helped strengthen existing social fabric, and mend it when torn? What if there were arts practices that could in fact not just make material objects, but also weave social fabric?
Maybe it sounds idealistic or romantic, but Eva Masterman proposed clay as just such a material, and working with clay as a practice that holds the capacity to weave social fabric.
In her lecture, Clay, not Ceramic: Building the Clay Common, she spoke about her PhD research during her presentation at the London Ceramic Arts. After explaining about the loss of ceramics programs in UK universities, she then noted the rise of small community led studios within UK centres. This relocation of clay practice from the ivory tower into the hands of local artists widens the access to the practice. But beyond that, and what I found most compelling about the presentation, was her focus on the material itself as a social fabric weaver.
Clay is ubiquitous. It is earth. It is an accessible material and extraordinarily dynamic. Clay has the ability to be a liquid and solid. It is a material that can be shaped and re-shaped. However, it loses this capacity when fired. Clay hardens when it chemically changes in a kiln. It cannot turn back into its original form, and instead becomes a ceramic object. A clay practice that focuses on working with unfired clay shifts the attention from the creation of objects to the creative interaction that emerges in the process of working with the material.
In other words, clay is a material that holds the capacity to weave social fabric.
In the description of the presentation, the idea of the “Clay Commons” is further elaborated:
“The development of the ‘Clay Commons’ focuses on the site of the clay studio as a micro society, sharing resources but also creating a sense of belonging. The studio becomes a site where community and creativity can be a driving force, within the context of a globally fluid, ubiquitous but infinitely diverse material (clay).”
It is a beautiful and compelling idea: studios as micro societies, and the earth as a material bridge between each person.
Maybe the idea of clay studios as sites of transformation seems grand for such a common material–but maybe that is the reason why it works. One of the lessons of clay is that it is possible shape and reshape earth–just as we can shape the bridges between each of us. And while the practice of earth shaping might feel like an insignificant contribution to mending the massive social tears around us, I find great comfort remembering that fabric is composed of many tiny threads. If it can be unraveled by pulling one, maybe it can be mended with one thread too. Maybe clay offers us just the shuttle we need to weave new fabric.
“As a potter you learn how to shape the world”
Theaster Gates
Alexandra Ross Works 