Organicity & Ceramics
Exploring the principle of organicity in ceramics, this reflection by our founder, Josh Herman, offers insight into the mindset we cultivate in our Coiled Sculpture: Organicity & Clay course. Learn how trusting emergence, attuning to clay as a living material, and letting go of control can open pathways to deeper authenticity and self-expression in your work.
Organicity refers to the inherent intelligence within how things move. With people, it’s the way they self-organize, what their creativity leads them to do. In therapy, it’s a foundation for respecting the intelligence of what unfolds. Working with clay, it’s an attunement with what wants to happen in the dance between hands and clay.
The principle of organicity has always been foundational for me, even before I knew it by name. It’s my natural way of being; I’ve never felt comfortable having a rigid, predefined goal or endpoint. Instead, I focus on what I can discover along the way, maintaining a curious and open mind to see where the process might lead me. And, with excitement, I allow it to lead me to places of mystery and unfoldment. This approach has been immensely rewarding in ceramics as well as in my life, offering depth and significance beyond what is typically found in throwing clay.
I often see contemporary art as primarily conceptual, where the emphasis is placed on conveying complex or abstract ideas rather than on the essence of the object itself. In graduate school, my peers frequently discussed their work through the lens of messages, social commentary, or political statements. I see value in that, however, this highly intellectualized approach never resonated with me. When people ask what my work is about, I often say, “I’m intentionally unintentional.” My art is rooted in an emotional and sensory experience rather than being solely guided by intellect. If my work contains a cultural commentary, it is this: in Western society, we are overly focused on thinking and intellect while neglecting our connection to the body and emotions - where I like to live. My approach to both ceramics and life is not to rely too heavily on thought alone to find answers. Instead, I seek a more balanced way of being—one that integrates feeling, sensing, and observing alongside intellect and logic.
When I create a sculpture, I often start with an idea rooted in my past experience making sculptures. From that experience I have a bit of a head start because I know the forms and shapes that repeatedly come out of me. But without a predetermined endpoint, certain forms naturally attract me. I approach the process with flexibility, holding my initial plans loosely and staying open to whatever unfolds.
As I build the sculpture, I make countless decisions: Should the wall lean left or right? Should I form a curve or a sharp edge? Each choice brings new possibilities and I start to recognize a developing vocabulary within the piece. Sometimes I turn inward and ask myself, “What feels right?” And sometimes I tune inward and don’t ask. It’s as if the piece and I are one body, fused at the hip of unknowing, riding the flow, like contact improv, moving intuitively as my subconscious responds to the silent invitation to join us. The subconscious - that’s where my creativity goes when I let go.
By the time I finish the sculpture, I’ve made thousands of choices that connect to my deepest emotional self and authenticity. The result is a piece that becomes a true reflection of who I am, and its internal language becomes more apparent. Recognizing, respecting, and responding to what wants to emerge; that’s organicity alive and well in the creative process.
Working in this way reveals so much about myself. Looking at the finished sculpture, I can reflect on the choices I made and the stylistic characteristics of the piece. What aesthetic principles are embedded in it? I can trace these decisions back to a deeper understanding of who I am. The emotional journey of creating the piece—what I encountered along the way—adds layers of insight into my own self-awareness. When I step back and view the completed work, there’s no greater feeling. It’s a sense of euphoria that words cannot fully describe.
With all this brilliance, there inevitably is shadow - anxiety that creeps in as I lay in bed noticing the thought arise, “How will I finish this? Where will this piece go?”. But it dissipates as I see that thought and feeling for what it is, the part of me trained to seek perfection and approval. With that, I settle back into knowing and appreciating my knowing. I see life unfolding everywhere and I’ve come to trust in letting go to dance with the unfoldment. Organicity is one of my copilots, both in my approach to life and to sculpture-making. I take one step, then another, trusting that the path will lead me where I need to go, even if I don’t always know the destination in advance.
