Skip to main content
Read page text
page 25
G R A C E U N D E R P R E S S U R E T o c o i n c i d e w i t h a m a j o r C r a f t s C o u n c i l e x h i b i t i o n , M a r g o t C o a t t s p r o f i l e s t h e p o t t e r D a m e L u c i e R ie w h o a t n i n e t y h a s d e v o t e d o v e r s i x t y - f iv e e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y p r o d u c t i v e y e a r s to h e r c r a f t L ucie Rie has been the sub|ect of many exhibitions and catalogues, and of an illustrated biography by Tony Birks published in 1987. Nevertheless, it is hard to reach an understanding of the person behind the pots, and only possible to hint at one. For, unlike her equals (most of whom are her contemporaries) - Bernard Leach, Michael Cardew, Ethel Mairet, Marianne Straub or David Pye - Rie has not set her ideas down in writing. It is possible that, in consequence, she has turned out more work than the others. Rie has lived alone in central London for fifty years. She is surrounded by a circle of close friends; talk is of people, sometimes of places, not often of her own pots. One way of approaching her is through the many commentators, journalists and broadcasters who have all attempted appraisals. Even then, some of the most persistent have failed; Rosemary Hill, in an interview for The Guardian in 1988, found all questions on theory were rebuffed: ‘I can’t say anything about that, I never think of it. I make pots. It is my profession,' insisted Rie. Professional potting for Lucie Rie Gomperz started in Vienna in the mid- 1920s and, over the following decade, she made a name for herself at international exhibitions all over Europe. The Vienna work is of a classical simplicity. Plain earthenware cylinders and bowls, whose gently curving bases seem to brush the surface they rest on, are covered in variegated and erupting glazes which anticipate her mature work. Rie did not emerge as a potter in England until the late 1940s - ten years after her arrival in London. The war had interrupted her progress; she had been divorced, worked in a glass button workshop and in an optical instrument factory, and had then turned to making press-moulded ceramic buttons. Times were hard for a refugee in London. The word courageous does not seem strong enough for her attitude to her new situation. The support of friends, of her new assistant Hans Coper, and, quite soon, of people active in the crafts, was abundant and essential. Coper joined the workshop in 1946, to make buttons. He soon graduated to throwing, and helped produce the range of domestic earthenware which is unglazed on the outside and sometimes subtly squeezed into oval shapes. During this period, a new kiln, capable of reaching temperatures high enough to fire porcelain and stoneware, was installed. The transformation it brought about in Rie’swork can be dated from a tiny porcelain bowl she gave to Hans Coper; the elongated sgraffito letters read: 'For Hans Coper Christmas 1949 from his boss Lucie Rie all debts are cancelled’(sic). One of Rie’s first friends in Britain was Bernard Leach, whom she met in 1939. Although aware ot her extraordinary determination to succeed in her craft, Leach did not like her pots at first, saying that they were too thin. However, by 1952, the year of the international conference on Pottery and Textiles 1920-1952 at Dartington Hall, he was championing her work. Rie attended the conference but did not contribute; the pottery talks and discussions were dominated by Leach and East/West issues. At the accompanying exhibition she shared one of the tubular steel, wood and rattan display stands with Coper. Their work was vastly different in look and feel from that of other potters. Here Rie met the influential educationist and etcher who was to become one of her chief patrons, Robin Tanner. Rie claimed in a letter written to him in 1975 that he always ‘had my pots which I liked best - at the time’. Of their 23

G R A C E U N D E R

P R E S S U R E T o c o i n c i d e w i t h a m a j o r C r a f t s C o u n c i l e x h i b i t i o n , M a r g o t C o a t t s p r o f i l e s t h e p o t t e r D a m e L u c i e R ie w h o a t n i n e t y h a s d e v o t e d o v e r s i x t y - f iv e e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y p r o d u c t i v e y e a r s to h e r c r a f t

L ucie Rie has been the sub|ect of many exhibitions and catalogues, and of an illustrated biography by Tony Birks published in 1987. Nevertheless, it is hard to reach an understanding of the person behind the pots, and only possible to hint at one. For, unlike her equals (most of whom are her contemporaries) - Bernard Leach, Michael Cardew, Ethel Mairet, Marianne Straub or David Pye - Rie has not set her ideas down in writing. It is possible that, in consequence, she has turned out more work than the others.

Rie has lived alone in central London for fifty years. She is surrounded by a circle of close friends; talk is of people, sometimes of places, not often of her own pots. One way of approaching her is through the many commentators, journalists and broadcasters who have all attempted appraisals. Even then, some of the most persistent have failed; Rosemary Hill, in an interview for The Guardian in 1988, found all questions on theory were rebuffed: ‘I can’t say anything about that, I never think of it. I make pots. It is my profession,' insisted Rie.

Professional potting for Lucie Rie Gomperz started in Vienna in the mid- 1920s and, over the following decade, she made a name for herself at international exhibitions all over Europe. The Vienna work is of a classical simplicity. Plain earthenware cylinders and bowls, whose gently curving bases seem to brush the surface they rest on, are covered in variegated and erupting glazes which anticipate her mature work.

Rie did not emerge as a potter in England until the late 1940s - ten years after her arrival in London. The war had interrupted her progress; she had been divorced, worked in a glass button workshop and in an optical instrument factory, and had then turned to making press-moulded ceramic buttons. Times were hard for a refugee in London. The word courageous does not seem strong enough for her attitude to her new situation. The support of friends, of her new assistant Hans Coper, and, quite soon, of people active in the crafts, was abundant and essential.

Coper joined the workshop in 1946, to make buttons. He soon graduated to throwing, and helped produce the range of domestic earthenware which is unglazed on the outside and sometimes subtly squeezed into oval shapes. During this period, a new kiln, capable of reaching temperatures high enough to fire porcelain and stoneware, was installed. The transformation it brought about in Rie’swork can be dated from a tiny porcelain bowl she gave to Hans Coper; the elongated sgraffito letters read: 'For Hans Coper Christmas 1949 from his boss Lucie Rie all debts are cancelled’(sic).

One of Rie’s first friends in Britain was Bernard Leach, whom she met in 1939. Although aware ot her extraordinary determination to succeed in her craft, Leach did not like her pots at first, saying that they were too thin. However, by 1952, the year of the international conference on Pottery and Textiles 1920-1952 at Dartington Hall, he was championing her work. Rie attended the conference but did not contribute; the pottery talks and discussions were dominated by Leach and East/West issues.

At the accompanying exhibition she shared one of the tubular steel, wood and rattan display stands with Coper. Their work was vastly different in look and feel from that of other potters. Here Rie met the influential educationist and etcher who was to become one of her chief patrons, Robin Tanner. Rie claimed in a letter written to him in 1975 that he always ‘had my pots which I liked best - at the time’. Of their

23

My Bookmarks


Skip to main content