Paula Shalan, is the second in three generations of potters. Educated at Sarah Lawrence College and The Art Institute of Chicago, she exhibits nationally at galleries and retail shows including The Philadelphia Museum of Art Craft Show and The Smithsonian Craft Show. She received a national award for sustainability at the Smithsonian Craft Show as well as the 2018 Distinction in Ceramics award from The Society of Arts and Crafts. Her work has been published in numerous magazines including Ceramic Art and Perception and Ceramics Monthly. Participating as an artist-in-residence at both Acadia National Park and The Dune Shacks on the Outer Cape has inspired her work. “My work is a quiet tribute to the details found in nature.”
observing all the tiniest of details
I was almost silent as a child. I had pretty severe dyslexia and had trouble expressing myself verbally. I was also very sensitive to chaos and noise. Being highly tuned in to my families tensions, I would retreat into my own world and feel safe and happy, observing all the tiniest of details in my surrounding physical world: how the bird out my window lighted on the branch sending a ripple effect to the leaves; how bread crumbs lodged in the crack between the curled edge of the speckled off-white linoleum kitchen floor and the cabinet’s foot kick; how the rough cement surface of my front steps with its dirt and leaves dug into the back of my thigh yet the the top of my bare legs were delightfully warmed in the afternoon sunlight .. I travelled to these places of acute visual and tactile attention to escape the loud hectic world around me.
the beauty inherent in raw materials
As I grew, I found that art was another place to retreat from our language based society, use my heightened awareness of sight and touch and delve deeply into creative, intuitive problem solving. I was lucky enough to grow up in a family that respected and honored creativity. My father - a surgeon and intellectual- travelled the world and brought back fascinating objects for me: a brass elephant with rolling wheels from India, an intricate enameled box from the former Soviet Union. I was was often tongue tied in front of him, but these carefully crafted gifts were a way that he could show his love and share the fascinating wider world. My mother on the other hand, a potter herself, was all about hands-on exploration and creativity. Dirt and splinters were a valuable part of life. She saw heart stirring beauty everywhere. She would often have tears rolling down her cheeks moved by something as simple as the beautiful arc a figure skater made as she cut across the ice. Both parents shared a heightened awareness of the beauty inherent in raw materials. Growing up, I had my hand in every possible art and craft: dyeing and weaving , wood work, silver smithing, lapidary work, painting, drawing, printmaking, and sculpture.
this material that comes from the earth
At college, I studied studio art and child development. Searching and questioning the meaning of life, I found solace in surrounding myself with the open wonder of the very young and the practical tasks of tying shoelaces. But in the painting studio, I could no longer face a blank canvas. My existential angst drove me to the pottery studio. I needed to ground my self by making a bowl I could eat rice from. I found Yanagi’s “Unknown Craftsman: A Japanese Insight into Beauty” which honored intuition over intellect, beauty and life in the imperfect, objects that are born for use. It freed me from the pressure to make individual , unique and “important” art. I found great relief in simply having my hands directly on this material that comes from the earth, making objects of use.
an antidote for our fast paced technological lives
Over time, I have come full circle making what many see as non functional work. But I see their function: imperfect beauty. I have a favorite collector who is blind. He works his fingers ever so slowly over a piece, “reading“ the work and speaking about it as he feels all the minute details.. He is the most articulate person to speak about my work and “sees” more than most people ever do. This speaks to my love of the tactile. With acute attention to detail and in careful conversation with the clay, I hand craft smoke fired vessels and seedpods as an antidote for our fast paced technological lives. My aim is to distill my sensory experience and highlight the astounding beauty and quiet wisdom of our forests. I hope, through my work, to bring others a sense of calm and a bit of wonder.
I was almost silent as a child. I had pretty severe dyslexia and had trouble expressing myself verbally. I was also very sensitive to chaos and noise. Being highly tuned in to my families tensions, I would retreat into my own world and feel safe and happy, observing all the tiniest of details in my surrounding physical world: how the bird out my window lighted on the branch sending a ripple effect to the leaves; how bread crumbs lodged in the crack between the curled edge of the speckled off-white linoleum kitchen floor and the cabinet’s foot kick; how the rough cement surface of my front steps with its dirt and leaves dug into the back of my thigh yet the the top of my bare legs were delightfully warmed in the afternoon sunlight .. I travelled to these places of acute visual and tactile attention to escape the loud hectic world around me.
the beauty inherent in raw materials
As I grew, I found that art was another place to retreat from our language based society, use my heightened awareness of sight and touch and delve deeply into creative, intuitive problem solving. I was lucky enough to grow up in a family that respected and honored creativity. My father - a surgeon and intellectual- travelled the world and brought back fascinating objects for me: a brass elephant with rolling wheels from India, an intricate enameled box from the former Soviet Union. I was was often tongue tied in front of him, but these carefully crafted gifts were a way that he could show his love and share the fascinating wider world. My mother on the other hand, a potter herself, was all about hands-on exploration and creativity. Dirt and splinters were a valuable part of life. She saw heart stirring beauty everywhere. She would often have tears rolling down her cheeks moved by something as simple as the beautiful arc a figure skater made as she cut across the ice. Both parents shared a heightened awareness of the beauty inherent in raw materials. Growing up, I had my hand in every possible art and craft: dyeing and weaving , wood work, silver smithing, lapidary work, painting, drawing, printmaking, and sculpture.
this material that comes from the earth
At college, I studied studio art and child development. Searching and questioning the meaning of life, I found solace in surrounding myself with the open wonder of the very young and the practical tasks of tying shoelaces. But in the painting studio, I could no longer face a blank canvas. My existential angst drove me to the pottery studio. I needed to ground my self by making a bowl I could eat rice from. I found Yanagi’s “Unknown Craftsman: A Japanese Insight into Beauty” which honored intuition over intellect, beauty and life in the imperfect, objects that are born for use. It freed me from the pressure to make individual , unique and “important” art. I found great relief in simply having my hands directly on this material that comes from the earth, making objects of use.
an antidote for our fast paced technological lives
Over time, I have come full circle making what many see as non functional work. But I see their function: imperfect beauty. I have a favorite collector who is blind. He works his fingers ever so slowly over a piece, “reading“ the work and speaking about it as he feels all the minute details.. He is the most articulate person to speak about my work and “sees” more than most people ever do. This speaks to my love of the tactile. With acute attention to detail and in careful conversation with the clay, I hand craft smoke fired vessels and seedpods as an antidote for our fast paced technological lives. My aim is to distill my sensory experience and highlight the astounding beauty and quiet wisdom of our forests. I hope, through my work, to bring others a sense of calm and a bit of wonder.
