Reedsport raku artists enjoy working in an uncontrolled medium
Most potters will agree that making raku is a gamble. If producing consistent ceramics by the kiln load is your pleasure, raku will not scratch that itch.
However, if you are an artist whose imagination is fired by the unknown outcome, then the pyrotechnic process and the surprises brought about by post-fire reductions should serve you well. Unpredictability is the watchword for 21st century American raku creations.
Potters William and Mikayale (pronounced “Michael”) Karcher of Reedsport enjoy the fiery palette of raku. William’s organic pieces — his segmented, jumping fish are currently on display in the lobby of the Coos Bay Public Library — and Mikayale’s large abstracts both feature the copper flash coveted by raku artists.
William Karcher admits the process is not easy, “because you can’t do all the colors. But I get the coppers, and some of the wild colors I like.”
“I like the muted colors, or the spots,” said Mikayale, “something you don’t have any control over.”
Formerly a teacher of marine biology at Reedsport High School, William Karcher followed his retirement with a stint at woodworking, but for the past ten years has been doing ceramics. A large poster, “Western Game Fish Identification Chart,” rests against one wall of his studio, and fish in various stages of creation float across every surface.
A bisque-colored six-piece sturgeon is neatly stacked on a long shelf filled with scores of unfinished ceramics. A narrow hallway is decorated with twists of darkly varnished driftwood, each suspending a salmon or a bass or a steelhead. “He’s a production line,” said Mikayale, who claims she learned the art of raku “through osmosis.” Both artists integrate small pieces of metal into their work. She has inserted curly-cues of shiny brass throughout a large, paneled abstract she calls “Mermaid.” I am reminded of the enchantress Circe and her way with sailors, brass tendrils of hair floating on the sea.
William Karcher uses bits of shiny lures and bright brass joins on his fish. The textural contrast is in perfect accord with the wood, the fired clay, and the metal.
Raku pieces are taken from the kiln hot, with special tools and tongs. The post-firing reduction takes place in a metal drum containing fluffed-up newsprint. As the fire consumes the oxygen within the can, it also draws the oxygen out of the raku pottery and its glaze. The natural process of oxygen removal results in unpredictable patterns and colors.
William has a raku kiln that stands 23 inches high, for conservatively sized pieces. He has built two more, says his wife, for a pair of tall vases, but he’s afraid to use them. “One is taller than I am... Because of the heat factor he doesn’t know how he’s going to get them out. He has a fireman’s suit, and a foil jacket...” Protective clothing is a must with raku; these artists are wisely cautious.
The Karcher’s offer classes at their Ceramics Studio on South 20th Street, Reedsport. On Monday and Wednesday evenings, students are welcome to pick out a piece of previously molded ceramic; paint it, have it fired. There is a collection of vases, dolls, platters and masks, and an entire shelf full of Christmas themed ornaments, Santas and angels.
Their students also do original work. Kristi Roelle of Winchester Bay is making progress on a pair of colorful jellyfish — purple, and bright teal blue — with sweet, spiraled tentacles that chime musically when struck.
Raku fish sculptures by William Karcher can be found throughout the South Coast: in Winchester Bay at both the Sportsman’s Cannery and the Crabby Café; in Reedsport at his Ceramics Studio and The Flower Shop; at Tomaselli’s Pastry Mill and Café in Elkton; and through the month of November at the Coos Bay Public Library.
Teri Albert reviews art and artists for The World. She can be reached at
malbert3@verizon.net.
Jennifer wrote on Nov 15, 2009 8:23 AM: