Foreword

Let’s begin by acknowledging that tile production can be a maddening affair. Consider the difficulty of making a flat piece of clay stay level and true through the drying and firing process. Then imagine repeating the task thousands upon thousands of times in an effort not unlike that of Sisyphus, the doomed king of Greek mythology.

Such was my viewpoint on tile for the first fifteen years that I worked in clay. I had tried to produce tile, but I did so without finding a resource like this one to guide me. Frustration with my lack of technical understanding clouded my ability to acknowledge the potential of ceramic tile as a medium and, further, to see its relevance to my own artistic practice. I was entirely disinterested in the process as a result.

That changed upon seeing two bodies of work by Cary Esser at Sherry Leedy Contemporary Art in 2016. Not only had the artist disregarded the concerns about process that had stifled me, she used them to great success. In her Parfleche series, Cary allowed tile to bend and collapse with such grace, restraint, and fluidity as to reveal the poetics of architecture. In “veils,” shown alongside the former, she used flat tile as a canvas for a deeply moving expression of the virtues of glaze. Cary’s work proved so transcendent that it radically altered my perceptions of tile. With newfound interest, I tried again.

It is essential that we as artists disassociate how something is made from what it is and why it is significant. To study tile is to study language, a language used in the histories of architecture, religion, politics, beauty, and so much more. To make tile in your studio is to engage in a global conversation that spans the entirety of constructed things, both in art and in industry. Don’t feel hindered—as I did for over a decade—by the technical hardships inherent in trying something new. Instead, feel enlivened by the challenge of problem solving and the opportunity to be part of the conversation.

One of my life’s great privileges is my friendship with Forrest Lesch-Middelton. Because our studios are (only) 2,700 miles (4,345 km) apart, our relationship is confined to frequent phone conversations. These treasured discussions often indulge our common interests in music and parenting but just as frequently center on ceramics, politics, and ideas of communication through our work.

Through our friendship I’ve come to understand how Forrest works, and more importantly, why he works. Forrest has a remarkable appreciation for the history of Islamic tile as an expression of culture. He draws upon this knowledge daily for reasons as simple as the celebration of aesthetics and as complex as developing collective understanding of who we are individually and globally. Forrest has the determination to build a new sense of community from that understanding.

Forrest’s studio practice and the quality, consistency, and volume with which he produces tile greatly impress me. The ambitious projects that he has completed and the late nights he still endures for the National Council on Education for the Ceramic Arts (NCECA) exhibitions and commissions motivate me, as they should us all. A true renaissance man, Forrest is as exceptional a harmonica player as he is a potter, and as passionate a social activist as he is a designer. His days are packed to the brim with exciting, challenging, and otherwise inspiring creative activities—not the least of which is this book!

Peter Pincus, ceramic artist, assistant professor of art at the College of Art and Design at Rochester Institute of Technology