Clay pride

What a superb potter Michael Cardew was. What a fascinating, complex man. And what a lovely book this is. Next to Bernard Leach, who as the seventh Kenzan (that is, seventh in line of pupillage to the 17th-century Japanese artist Kenzan I) had something of the status of an English pope in the world of studio pottery, Cardew is considered by many to be the greatest potter of the 20th century. Others might make claims for William Staite Murray, Hans Coper, Lucie Rie or Edmund de Waal, who visited Cardew just before the master’s death in 1983 and was described in his diary as ‘a very good young man’.

Cardew was born of upper-middle-class stock in 1901 — just late enough to avoid being slaughtered in the Great War. Educated at King’s College School and at Exeter College, Oxford, where he read classics, he broke away from the establishment career intended for him to become a potter. He was inspired by the slip-decorated pottery made by Edwin Beer Fishley at his country works. Some of Cardew’s ‘U’ circle took a dim view of his decision. General Douglas Scott, his uncle by marriage, snorted: ‘Disgraceful! A Balliol scholar spending the rest of his life making mud pies.’

Cardew described himself as ‘a mud and water man’. What mattered to him was a ‘clay body’ that was sensual and responsive. It had to feel right to the touch. He loved throwing pots on the wheel. To him the act ‘summed up the business of being human’. The potter’s wheel was like a musical instrument, not just a tool.

Cardew was related to both Kim Philby and Field-Marshal Montgomery

He served an apprenticeship to Leach, who remained a friend. He shared Leach’s admiration for the earthiness of Japanese pottery and the Japanese taste for beguiling imperfections, not for icy shine and exact symmetry.