Ron Meyers – The Permission Giver
Since meeting Ron Meyers some twenty-five years ago, we have had a steadfast friendship. He is one of the giants’ shoulders that I have stood on.
The importance and impact of Ron’s work have worked their casual wonders on so many of us on “The Clay Path.” If the pot is the person, then no pots in my collection express this better than his. The pots are casual, animated, comfortable, informal, and fun to live with. Like the man himself, the pots are authentic.
“I am what I am, and I ain’t what I ain’t.” – Popeye the Sailor.
I have several of Ron’s platters, and I hope he will forgive me for this, but they are on the wall. I once asked Ron why he didn’t put a hole or loop on the back of his plates and platters so people could hang them on the wall. He answered, “Why would somebody want to put a plate on the wall when they can eat off of it?”
When the British potter Bernard Leach toured America, he made the comment “A country should have a tap root or a tradition.” This totally missed the point that America was and is a melting pot of cultures. There are definite pottery centers in the US, and Ron created a geographical bridge between the folk potteries of Ohio, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia, as well as a theoretical bridge between academia and art pottery. He never claimed to be anything more than “a potter.” He always stayed true to the vessel. He also had a lasting affection for working people.
One of my favourite pieces is a candelabra which includes a couple of the usual suspects – a naked half goat/half man and a naked woman sitting drinking wine. It could have just been a clay sculpture, but no, Ron put a small bowl on top to hold a candle.
This comfort in the moniker “potter” earned him the respect of not only enthusiasts of his easily recognized narrative work but also that of respected professionals. Those professionals in Ron’s mind were not only academics with degrees but were the folk potters making crockery, strawberry pots, and things that work.
Ron got his academic training at Rochester Institute of Technology under the mentorship of Frans Wildenhain, who was trained in the Bauhaus in Germany. The Bauhaus being famous for its “form follows function” philosophy. Ron gives much credit to Wildenhain for setting him free. I think it so wonderful that a teacher can encourage you to be the opposite of them.
Ron’s work is about visual function as well as a functioning form.
After graduation, Ron taught briefly in South Carolina and then finished as professor emeritus at the University of Georgia, Athens.
Through academia, Ron had rubbed shoulders with many of America’s greats of his era – Voulkos, Autio, Ferguson, and others. Within this lineup of artists and characters, I would call Ron the permission giver.
Academia could have been a comfortable place to remain, but Ron’s love of his work and the enjoyment he got from making it had him enter a second career, a full-time studio potter at age fifty-two. He is still working in his studio today at age ninety. What this boils down to is that he has been a studio potter longer than he was a professor. That didn’t mean he stopped teaching. He was busy on the workshop circuit, giving hundreds of us makers permission to experiment, be fluid, and be expressive.
Marks of process are everywhere on Ron’s work – the scratching of a fork, the poke of a thumb, fingerprints, the slow movement of a rib, the purposeful undulation and pinch of the rim, the slow trimming of a deep foot, and with some later work, the mark of the flame. For many enthusiasts, the colourful painterly earthenware work is the signature they endorse. This often disappointed Ron in that they didn’t look at the form, just at the narrative.
There is a lot of love and care behind the imagery. Look behind the clothing, there is an amazing soul under it. His work, his life, and his art encapsulate virtues that should be models for all of us.
For those of us lucky enough to be welcomed as part of the Meyers family, I can tell you that “love” has been central to Ron’s success as a potter. Ron got the memo! Wanna be a successful potter? He married well! Hester, his wife of sixty-three years, never forgot you, your birthday, something that interests you, and little surprise gifts; moreover, she loved him. Love permitted Ron to make his best work.
Ron was like a clock. Perry Mason on black and white TV between 9 and 10 am. Go to the studio at noon – set your watch by it – Ron would come in for a sandwich and a side of potato chips. Back to the studio. 5 pm – set your watch by it – Ron came in for a bourbon with ice before dinner. He kept a simple schedule that always included sharing a meal with family. So precise and predictable in his daily world, and yet so unlikely to be a clockmaker. I wouldn’t want Ron to be my heart surgeon or my clockmaker, but a better friend you will never find.
As I was writing this wee diddy, I phoned Ron and said, ”Hey Buddy, I’m writing this article for Studio Potter and I need you to say something really smart and profound so I can write it. What ya got to say?” His answer was simply, “Stay loose.” It’s easy to say and hard to do.
