Carl McConnell
N.B. As the negatives were lost in a flood, I had to photograph the only surviving print of this picture of Carl at the wheel. A limited edition of giclée prints is available, see Shop
Carl McConnell (1926 - 2003) was a very important figure in Australian ceramic art. He was born in Chicago, and served in the U.S. Navy during World War 11, when he spent some time based in Brisbane, Queensland. He met his Brisbane-born wife and moved there in 1948, where he studied art at Brisbane Technical College. He started his first studio in 1954, and then moved to Pinjarra Hills on the bushy western side of Brisbane, establishing the Pinjarra pottery.
I met Carl in 1968, when I was commissioned to shoot the picture (above) for a book on Australian potters. At the same time, I met his son Phillip, who was then apprenticed to him. An enduring friendship developed with both men.
Noted for Japanese-style work in both stoneware and porcelain, Carl produced ‘standard-ware’ as well as major works for exhibition. A very tall, physically powerful man, his work reflects that strength; even small works have a classic, monumental quality, all rendered by a very assured hand. He continually experimented with glaze techniques, mainly fired in a large catenary arch kiln of his own design. He also built a Korean Rifle Kiln, a type of brick tunnel which ran up a hillside for about 30 metres, and was fired at a few points along the way, generating tremendous heat at the top end. Work fired at different temperature locations within the kiln displayed an extraordinary variety of results. An enormously creative man, with a great sense of humour, he had many admirers. His work is held in several galleries, such as The National Gallery of Victoria, and many private collections.
N.B. A limited edition of Giclée prints is available of this image, see Shop
Phillip established a pottery in Toowoomba, a city in the mountains to the west of Brisbane. The picture (above) was shot during one of Carl’s visits. He had started work at 8:00 a.m., and set out to make 200 identical jugs, complete with handles, by 11:00 a.m. He did it perfectly, using a wooden height gauge for consistency, and all 200 were virtually identical. It was a display of his mastery at the wheel. He had just downed tools to enjoy a well-earned beer when I attempted to shoot a sneaky picture of him, as the available light was really nice, but he spotted the camera the instant before I hit the shutter release.