About | George Pearlman, BS, MFA
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GEORGE PEARLMAN started potting in 1980 and received his BS from Syracuse University in 1983 and his MFA in ceramics from Pennsylvania State University in 1994. His education was and continues to be a collage of life experiences.
He has shown his work internationally and has been the recipient of numerous grants, residencies, and teaching positions throughout the U.S.A. and abroad. George established the St. George Pottery in 1999 by designing and constructing the three story building himself over seven months in 1998. This is the only break he has ever taken from his passion of working with clay since 1980, but it was well worth it. His studio and gallery are all connected to his coastal home in St. George, Maine. The permanent studio and contemporary ceramics gallery are open to the public for the six warmer months of the year, May through October. In 2013, the St. George Pottery was renamed George Pearlman Pottery. George has been recognized by the Maine Arts Commission as an individual artist fellow. |
George Pearlman, Master Ceramicist
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RESUME
If you wish to view or download George's resume, you may do so here: Download File
GEORGE PEARLMAN | Artist Statement
“ After 37 years of potting, it is still a daily act of exploration and daring. I know I’m making strong work when I have the joyful experience of the finished piece staring back at me as if I had nothing to do with it being there. Of course, it has taken over three decades of devotion to make my current work and I have explored many pathways. Much theorizing over these years about my inspirations have led me to simply understand that I am a good man who works hard at making something ever more beautiful and original. I live in the sticks of Maine and nature has drowned me in her magnificence.
My goal as an artist is to generate the energy that creates the space for myself and the viewer to expand freely. I see this as a way of life and the definition of a peaceful and vibrant society. "
CHOP MARK | The Story
A chop mark is a ceramists’ signature. Most potters have a 'chop' (a wood or clay stamp) they impress into the bottom or side of their pottery before it’s completely dry. I have been using my chop mark since 1994. It is the result of my exploration of the idea that there is no such thing as unmitigated expression.
Through challenging myself to exhaustive painting marathons, I have done everything I can to get out of my mind and into the place I assumed originality resides. My mark making did not feel original despite my research, but I did notice that the way I divided space or composed my drawings and paintings, had a clear theme that looked generally like what my chop mark is today.
I did not know this research would end up in my chop. Instead, the way I divide space led me to focus on specific drawings and sculptures. A series of drawings of three people intertwined, a series of drawings of three tires, a series of sculptures of old televisions and dials were some of the ways I explored what felt like my specific way I divide space. While these were exciting explorations for me, especially my "television series," none of them felt like a clear expression of my original exploration of unmitigated expression.
I let the piece become completely abstract and built a series of sculptures that were essentially a box with three disks on top of it. They seemed too large and I made them smaller. They still seemed too large and I made them smaller still and that is when it struck me that as a tiny sculpture it was perfect and that using it as my chop mark would be the perfect venue for it.
When I carved my chop and stamped it on my pottery, I knew I found a truly complete answer to the aesthetic challenge of signing my pots. It was vastly better than the scrawl of my name and date that I was using up until that point. While it may seem like a small detail, how an artist signs their work is as much a part of their aesthetic as any other part of the piece and I feel quite complete in this aspect of my work.
So, is there such a thing as unmitigated expression? Well, as hard won as my chop mark is and as original as it feels, I have to say that there is no unmitigated expression. There are many reasons why, but interestingly, I travelled to Philadelphia Pennsylvania about seven years after I started using my chop. I visited the beautiful Japanese house that was designed by architect Junzo Yoshimura and built originally in 1953. It is wonderfully situated in Fairmount Park and was designed as a traditional antique Japanese home. It was given as a gift from Japan to the USA as a sign of post war peace.
It is beautiful with its koi pond, luscious garden, rice paper doors, tatami mats and a huge timber that runs the length of the peak of the roof. After thoroughly exploring the house and garden, I sat back from the house in the grass and wondered at its beauty through the blossoming trees and there, to my surprise, heroically carved into the end of the massive roof timber, I saw a square with three circles above it. I was stunned and then could not stop laughing and then I immediately contacted the director of the board of the non-profit organization that manages the house and asked him what this mark means, who carved it, when did they carve it and why did they carve it???????? The answer, unfortunately, was "I don't know."
I still don't know the answer to those questions, but I do know that our ideas about originality go much deeper than simple plagiarism as somehow I managed to be copying something that I had never seen before and existed before I was born. Realizing this made me even happier with my chop as it says so much about how interconnected we are beyond what we can see. The idea that there is no such thing as unmitigated expression is not a sad comment on our lack of originality, instead it is a celebration of our amazing inter-connectedness, our visual archetypes, and our common language of abstract forms.
Through challenging myself to exhaustive painting marathons, I have done everything I can to get out of my mind and into the place I assumed originality resides. My mark making did not feel original despite my research, but I did notice that the way I divided space or composed my drawings and paintings, had a clear theme that looked generally like what my chop mark is today.
I did not know this research would end up in my chop. Instead, the way I divide space led me to focus on specific drawings and sculptures. A series of drawings of three people intertwined, a series of drawings of three tires, a series of sculptures of old televisions and dials were some of the ways I explored what felt like my specific way I divide space. While these were exciting explorations for me, especially my "television series," none of them felt like a clear expression of my original exploration of unmitigated expression.
I let the piece become completely abstract and built a series of sculptures that were essentially a box with three disks on top of it. They seemed too large and I made them smaller. They still seemed too large and I made them smaller still and that is when it struck me that as a tiny sculpture it was perfect and that using it as my chop mark would be the perfect venue for it.
When I carved my chop and stamped it on my pottery, I knew I found a truly complete answer to the aesthetic challenge of signing my pots. It was vastly better than the scrawl of my name and date that I was using up until that point. While it may seem like a small detail, how an artist signs their work is as much a part of their aesthetic as any other part of the piece and I feel quite complete in this aspect of my work.
So, is there such a thing as unmitigated expression? Well, as hard won as my chop mark is and as original as it feels, I have to say that there is no unmitigated expression. There are many reasons why, but interestingly, I travelled to Philadelphia Pennsylvania about seven years after I started using my chop. I visited the beautiful Japanese house that was designed by architect Junzo Yoshimura and built originally in 1953. It is wonderfully situated in Fairmount Park and was designed as a traditional antique Japanese home. It was given as a gift from Japan to the USA as a sign of post war peace.
It is beautiful with its koi pond, luscious garden, rice paper doors, tatami mats and a huge timber that runs the length of the peak of the roof. After thoroughly exploring the house and garden, I sat back from the house in the grass and wondered at its beauty through the blossoming trees and there, to my surprise, heroically carved into the end of the massive roof timber, I saw a square with three circles above it. I was stunned and then could not stop laughing and then I immediately contacted the director of the board of the non-profit organization that manages the house and asked him what this mark means, who carved it, when did they carve it and why did they carve it???????? The answer, unfortunately, was "I don't know."
I still don't know the answer to those questions, but I do know that our ideas about originality go much deeper than simple plagiarism as somehow I managed to be copying something that I had never seen before and existed before I was born. Realizing this made me even happier with my chop as it says so much about how interconnected we are beyond what we can see. The idea that there is no such thing as unmitigated expression is not a sad comment on our lack of originality, instead it is a celebration of our amazing inter-connectedness, our visual archetypes, and our common language of abstract forms.