Joseph Cornell. But in the main, Kesl’s insights about art are informed by his knowledge of music. Pitch equals value and volume equals intensity. In his world, the black hair on his figures is chosen because black sets the pitch for the orchestration of all the other colors. When discussing his compositions, he recommends we consider the interstices, the intervals. Look closely at the color and textural modulations that separate his shapes. His color mixing and application are a kind of phrasing, sometimes subtle and sometimes impetuously exaggerated. There is nothing postmodern, academic or pedantic about his commentary or his painting. All of his images, processes and theories are fluid and affirmative. This day Kesl is painting thirteen plates, the largest being 24 inches in diameter. Each carries the face of a young woman. Each face is eyes front, each head selectively proportional and comfortably composed within the circle. The exactness of the plate’s rim complements the nuanced irregularities of the hair.
He paints slowly, precisely, reflectively. As he paints he recites a line from Henry David Thoreau, “Man is a tool of his tools” and then he turns a phrase about the nature of his subjects, the young girls, finding them to be “virtue on the hoof.” One of Kesl’s signature moves is the use of the underglaze bottle caps to impress cheeks and, sometimes, teeth. We are left to decide if this is a droll improvisation with the tools at hand—Thoreau—or a kind of shorthand not seen anywhere else in the work. It’s hard to know, but good art always raises a few questions. And in these pots we are reminded of the difference between talent and art. Talent applies itself and fills some space. Art, as seen here, goes in through our eyes and informs our minds. If it’s really good, then it lives in our hearts.
This investment of talent, time and money raises the question “Why?” For each of these men, it’s the art. Tilton believes that this is work that should get made. And it needn’t be burdened by the demands of the marketplace. There is no rush to product. While he is in the business of being a potter year round, he also is wise enough to know that some of the best parts of life aren’t bought or sold. Kesl simply loves to work. And he loves to work with Tilton in the hope of making magic. As mentioned before, Kesl keeps his share of what he makes. He is a true collector—of many things: drawings, paintings, books, ceramics, LPs, correspondence and photos. Yet he is quick to note that we won’t be pulling the material world up through a hole in the clouds to heaven. The greatest truth is that the two of them, to use the old jazz expression, “really cook.” Kesl says that working with Tilton is like making surefire fudge. By his own admission, he doesn’t know that much about ceramics—but he doesn’t need to. This is a seamless team effort; no duplication of skills, no necessary steps avoided.
There are serendipitous moments in this partnership and they occur with such frequency that it’s difficult to choose just one to
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“Elephant Bowl,” 14¹⁄₂ inches (37 centimeters) in diameter, wheel-thrown stoneware, with commercial glazes, fired to Cone 06, 1982.
Plate, 10¹⁄4 inches (26 centimeters) in diameter, wheel-thrown earthenware, with commercial glazes and underglazes, fired to Cone 06, 2004. |
