First steps in a series of refinement
Recently, I began a series of throwing challenges designed to deepen my understanding of form and refine my eye.
These exercises are not improvised: they follow a precise structure, with clear constraints that push me to step outside my habits and explore the silhouette of a vase in new ways.
The first challenge in this series carried an evocative name: the suspended vase.
The intention behind the challenge
The objective was to create a vase whose mass appears to float above its foot.
A delicate visual balance, where the widest point sits above the center, leaving the foot to play a discreet role.
On paper, it seems simple.
At the wheel, it is another story.
This challenge required throwing one to three pieces, with a high belly and a narrower-than-usual foot, while maintaining a relatively calm neck. A constraint that seems simple at first glance, but that completely transforms the way one approaches form.
A matter of perception
While throwing these pieces, I quickly realized that this challenge was not only technical. It was mainly about learning to see differently.
Usually, stability is what we seek. We want the piece to feel solid, reassuring. Here, I had to accept a certain visual tension — giving the impression that the mass rises higher than what feels comfortable.
That sense of fragile balance is precisely what brings the form to life.
Some pieces came close to the intention. Others remained more cautious, more stable — almost too reasonable. And that is where the learning became most interesting: understanding that what feels safe is not always what is visually strongest.
What I found difficult
The most unsettling part for me was the tension at the foot.
Reducing that base, making it more discreet than usual, clearly pushed me out of my comfort zone. I am used to seeking visual stability — a reassuring base. Here, I had to accept an almost fragile sensation, as if the piece rested on less than what I would naturally choose.
But there was another difficulty, more subtle: the constraint itself.
I often throw by following the moment, letting inspiration guide the form. This challenge imposed a precise framework, an intention defined in advance. Not improvising, not adjusting according to the mood of the moment — this was a new discipline, and at times an uncomfortable one.
Where I cheated… a little
Even though one of the suggested variations was to let the form speak on its own, without decoration, my vases still carry engraved patterns.
Looking back, I realize that decoration can sometimes soften a form or slightly divert attention. Repeating this challenge today without engraving would probably be a very different experience — and likely a more demanding one.
Yet these first pieces still tell something important:
the moment when I began shifting the mass upward, and accepting that visual stability could be questioned.
Letting the form speak
Even when decoration is present — and it often is in my work — the form remains the foundation of everything. If the silhouette does not hold, no pattern can truly save it.
This first challenge reminded me of something essential:
A vase is not only an object — it is a line in space.
And that line must be owned.
A process taking shape
This challenge marks the beginning of a deliberately demanding path.
Each exercise will bring its share of discoveries — sometimes subtle, sometimes very concrete.
This is not a search for immediate perfection, but a patient construction — piece by piece — of a more conscious language of forms.
Looking back, these first vases born from a challenge capture a precise moment in that journey: the moment when one begins to understand that moving a single curve can change the entire perception of a piece.
And this is only the beginning.
