In her memoir Taken from the Back Row, Cosmopolitan.com editor Amy Odell describes being interviewed for a position as a fashion writer by the somewhat terrifying personage of Vogue’s legendary editor, Anna Wintour.
Searching around for tips, Odell was informed that Wintour was ‘all about colour’, and so whatever she did she should avoid wearing black. In the end she chose to wear a cream dress and ‘nude pumps’, surely a term to conjure with. She didn’t get the job, a career glitch which she puts down to getting almost all her answers to Wintour’s questions wrong, but one has to wonder if the choice of a cream dress had anything to do with it. After all, nothing’s that black and white.
Colour in ceramics has similarly been subject to fashions, as well as being dictated by technology throughout its long history. Who hasn’t heard the term ‘brown pots’ being used somewhat disparagingly, although now the worm has turned, and brown is the new black. Studio pottery has seen various palettes come and go – Clarice Cliff, Grace Crowleyand Memphis were pretty gaudy, there was blue and there was white, and recently there was a period where everything white huddled together, perhaps an unwitting metaphor for contemporary politics. Colour can be a serious business.
By contrast, I would say that Susan Frost’s work plays with colour, if play can indeed be this careful and considered. Taking her cues from various sources, including the faded hues of old Polaroids, and matching these to simple, domestic forms, she manages to achieve what seems to be limitless variations on a theme, with perfectly applied colour over perfectly formed Southern Ice. Her ceramics are at once contemporary and nostalgic, and one could imagine a photo shoot featuring picnic blankets and green grass and wicker baskets, especially if the photo was manipulated to mimic the old dye-transfer techniques. I drink my tea from one of Susan’s cups every day. Its pale yellow and quite flawless, although according to Susan it’s a second. Then again, she would say that, wouldn’t she.
Damon Moon
Willunga 2015