Ahead of his first major solo exhibition at Watts Gallery, we speak with Rich Miller about how his passion for clay began, the ideas that shape his work, and the ambitions that continue to drive him forward.
The first time I experienced clay was at secondary school. I made a rudimentary pinched pot with a sculpted mouth on the side. Although I still have the pot, I can't remember what my original intent was when making it. I didn’t have a profound moment with clay when I first touched it, but I certainly enjoyed the malleability and the potential for the material to be transformed from mud into almost anything!
The earliest memory I have of working with a similar material was sitting alongside my mum as a young child during one of her sugar craft classes. Pressing sugar paste into netting to create texture, sculpting petals and assembling flowers. I’m sure this laid the foundations for modelling and making in clay, but I wasn’t aware of it at the time!
I was always going to pursue something cantered around the creative industries. The only other career I seriously considered was architecture, though I’m not sure I could have coped with less hands-on making. In the same way that ceramics sits at the heart of our made society, architecture shapes the way we live and how we interact with the world, which I find exciting. If my potting career ended tomorrow, I think I would retrain as a gardener. I grew up helping my mother on her allotment and have always enjoyed the satisfaction of growing plants. I take great pleasure from time spent in my garden and would relish the challenge of horticulture on a more commercial scale.
There something incredibly satisfying in taking inanimate mud and giving it life. Transforming the soft and malleable clay to fired, solid and permanent ceramic. Clay is continually engaging. It’s a material that allows me to be expressive, whilst also requiring the building of knowledge and skills to realise its potential. Ceramics has a rich historical past and is often the medium that tells us so much about how society functioned historically. Clay can be political, functional, decorative, it can form the very structure of the houses that we live in. It’s such a broad discipline and offers endless possibilities for areas of exploration. I couldn’t imagine working in any other material.
Managing the clay is one of the most challenging aspects as it’s all too easy to get carried away with an idea whilst forgetting some of the fundamental ways you need to process the material. I also find it crucial to manage my own expectations as those pre-conceived ideas of how something should look generally defines what is deemed ‘successful’. Relinquishing some control over the process is difficult. It’s a constant balance between your own ambitions and the constraints of the clay.
The projects I feel most proud of are the collaborative ones I’ve been involved with over the years. 24 Savile Row with Kate Malone and EPR Architects was a particular highlight. When it comes to my own work, my ideas tend to move quicker than the process, so consequently, as soon as a piece of ceramics is out of the kiln, I’m already thinking about how I might improve it or how it might inform how I approach the next piece of work.
Absolutely! It’s rarely just the culmination of weeks of work at stake, it’s also often my livelihood. If objects come out split or cracked, the wrong colour, or even pin holed, it can render them unusable. In some situations it means that the physical cost ie kiln firings, materials and time, plus the environmental cost (use of mineral resources and electricity) have been in vain. It’s always an anxiety-inducing moment when the kiln is opened, but also rather exiting. There is nothing more miraculous that seeing work for the first time, fresh out of the kiln.
The wonderful thing about ceramics is that it’s always changing and there’s always more to learn. Whether it’s a base mineral variation that physically changes the glaze or clay body or just a shift in personal ambition, there is always knowledge to be gained through every firing and every decision taken. On the whole I don’t tend to get too caught up in trying to master any single skill, as often it’s the pleasure I find in any given process that sustains long term engagement. I’m currently really excited by the possibilities associated with creating 3d printed die plates for extruding clay.
I would say the main quality required is tenacity. Skills can be learned, but you cannot be disheartened when the outcomes don’t align with your expectations (which they often don’t!). It’s important to respond to finished work in a critical manner and commit to increasing skills and knowledge through trial and error.
Many of the pieces are centred around personal narratives and experiences. They may shine a light on interesting historical stories or document more current newsworthy subject matter. Generally each piece is an object born of thoughts and ponderings I’ve had. I’ve always felt that education and conversation are the root to solving many of societies disagreements and I really hope that my work provides a starting point for some of that conversation. Whether that’s how people feel about the flags going up on lampposts, or the representation of migrants within British society, it’s important that we can discover commonalities and differences in our personal experiences and learn from those interactions. I aim to make objects which ask questions of the status quo and perhaps allow me to ask the difficult questions in a less confrontational way, though I don’t in any way claim to have any of the answers!
I’ve always found it challenging to look at ceramics in a binary way as many of the objects we surround ourselves with rarely fall into a single category. The key is effective balancing of those two elements as - if a beautiful piece of ceramics is to fill a practical role - it’s imperative that it does that effectively. Ceramics can be beautiful in the simplicity of their function and purely decorative pieces can provide a function that extends beyond a functional role in our every day. For example I would argue that a house built from handmade bricks could be considered decoratively beautiful whilst remaining inherently practical, the weight of balance requiring the primary function to be performed perfectly.
Within my own work, the functioning of a piece often progresses alongside the decorative narrative. I take great joy in people integrating things I’ve made into their daily life, so practical use remains important. For example, my mugs are designed with their primary function in mind. I like a thin rim to drink from, and they need to be light enough to be liftable when full of hot liquid. The internal curvature of the handle needs to feel nice in the hand, and the proportions of that handle to the body, have to be visually satisfying. Despite this, the surface is decorated with imagery relating to British and family history. The resulting mug places the emphasises on the decorative surfaces but not to the detriment of the piece performing its function well.
I draw inspiration from a large number of different sources, such as art and literature as well as ceramics.
I really admire Grayson Perry’s effective social commentary and his ability to apply his unique approach to making to different creative disciplines, whether that’s ceramics, architecture or embroidery-based projects. Grayson embraces an honest approach to creativity that bridges the divide between the traditional categorisation of Craft and Art.
David Olusoga’s writing on the British empire scrutinises the conventional history which formed much of the school curriculum through the 1980s and 90s. His writings have formed an instrumental role in allowing me in to understand how my cultural background relates to broader British history, whilst also providing context for how this influx of people from former colonies has affected society.
British-Guyanese artist Hew Locke has always been an inspirational figure to me. His groundbreaking show at the British Museum What Have We Here? not only questioned the legacies of imperialism, but through the use of the Museum’s objects coupled with his own created works, he looked closely at the link between Empire and the Museum’s history. He is someone who is at the forefront of questioning the idea of sovereignty, power and nationhood.
In his first major solo exhibition, ceramicist Rich Miller (judge on Channel 4's The Great Pottery Throwdown) delves into his own heritage and an exploration of British colonial history, examining the complexities of migration and the lasting cultural influences woven into the fabric of British society.