Don’t Be Jealous-I Had to Touch!

I just returned from the National Council on Education for the Ceramic Arts, where they held their annual conference in Detroit. Since discovering ceramics in 2018, I’ve been eager to educate myself on all things related to the ceramic arts. It’s not like my 25-year-old self was paying any attention to that world. I was focused on grad school and sexy boys.

NCECA’s mission statement reads: “Advances creation, teaching, and learning through clay in the contemporary world. Ceramic art connects us to physical and cognitive experiences that foster environments of cultural equity, diversity, access, and inclusion.”

My first step was to reach out to the conference organizers to ask for accommodation so I could fully experience art in my mind, that means I get to touch it all, though I wasn’t sure all the exhibitors would feel the same way.

The emails and phone calls began in earnest. First, I became an expert on the conference offerings. There were exhibitions all around the city, plus the convention center hosting a wide range of events: artist talks, demonstrations, gallery booths from across the U.S., and emerging artist exhibitions. What’s a blind guy to do with so many choices?

I quickly realized I was going to have to be a pushy blind guy!

After all the outreach, I ended up with about eight private tours scheduled. NCECA even offered training on verbal description and had volunteers ready to “show” me the work. I arrived ready to touch as many vessels as I was allowed, but still unsure how much access I would actually have.

So I also showed up at a few exhibitions I hadn’t heard back from, hoping for the best.

My first stop was the “Mom’s Project” exhibition. I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to touch anything, since I hadn’t received a response. I was hoping to experience work by potters whose names I knew but whose work I had never encountered physically. As I walked in, I met the curator, Bryan Hopkins. He allowed me to touch work by Jennifer Allen—whom I know from instructional videos—then Ben Carter, a voice I recognize from his podcast, and finally Julia Galloway, whose work I’ve heard about for years.

All that anxiety paid off. I was able to touch work by so many recognized artists and literally put a pot to a name. Another exhibition I was nervous about was “Shaping Clay to Shape the Future,” celebrating legacy and emerging artists from the past 60 years. Again, I was able to experience work by distinguished artists like Val Cushing and Michael Simon—both no longer alive and deeply influential in the field—as well as Roberto Lugo and Deborah Schwartzkopf, all while wearing gloves.

You’d think I’d be tired of touching by now. I heard from several conference attendees about how jealous they were. I’m not so sure how to respond.

Do they know how much anxiety and preparation it took to get the most out of this experience? Are they aware that in some exhibitions I was only allowed to touch a few works and missed out on the rest? Do they understand that in some cases, curators could only offer verbal descriptions?

Luckily, I’m not a very jealous person. I don’t think I was, even before going blind. More often I felt left out, or frustrated having to ask for permission.

What do curators and artists think is going to happen to a ceramic object? Ceramics are durable—they last forever. Isn’t that why archaeologists continue to discover vessels from the past?

Should I be jealous of sighted participants who can simply walk through and visually experience everything? I choose to focus on what I do get to experience, and to hope for a future where I don’t have to spend so much energy just to be included in a world that takes sight for granted.

Overall, I had an amazing time, and I’m already preparing for next year’s conference.

 I have some new work you can experience in my shop!