THANOS JOHNSON
by his son
Konstantine Iannios
THE GODPOTTER
It’s a crisp June morning, 1971. As the sun peaks over Whitehouse Mountain, hovering 4000-feet above the historic town of Marble, Colorado, it casts a large shadow upon this beautiful mountain valley, but none larger than my fathers, Thanos A. Johnson, The GODPOTTER. The distinct scent of freshly baked bread wafts from downstairs, nudging all awake, along with dad’s booming God like voice…”breakfast is served, this isn’t going to eat itself…” A simple breakfast with local honey, is laid out before us on the teak Scandinavian style dining table.
On this particular morning, the Welch family, Walter, Judy, and kids, Tod, and Dana, join us, having just arrived the evening before from their home in Des Moines, Iowa, towing behind them a pop up Coleman sleep camper. The camper sits at the edge of the reflecting pond of our large corner property, just a short walk to Beaver Lake. Heaven on earth is a gross understatement.
Willie Garcia, one of dad’s hands, putters up in his rusty VW Bug, dog Sam, greeting him at the door. Willie has a load of firewood, my two older brothers, Demetrios, and Aristides, jump from the table and help him haul it into the studio, and main room of this old 1888 miners cabin, cobbled together over the years, as if a dream house for the dyslexic.
Dad bought the place for $141 in back taxes, from Ida B. Carey, in 1945, after finishing his stint as a 10th Mountain Soldier on Skis during WWII. The division trained in the surrounding mountains. Ida was a prominent citizen of Marble during its heyday, having owned two ice cream parlors, and was also one of the only women to be involved in the town’s politics. She also owned The Carey Building, that was rented out for town meetings, band practices, and dances.
Both fireplaces begin to roar in her old home. Summer mornings can be nippy 8000-feet up in the Rockies. My mom, Demetra, and sister, Thana, are in the kitchen, serving up coffee, tea, and Tang. Brothers ‘Demet’ and ‘Aris’ grab and go, piling into Willie’s bug. They drive off, Sam chasing behind. It’s my day for dish duty, so after a hem and haw, I get up to clear the table. Dana is kind enough to pitch in.
Philoxenia: An ancient Greek word, the definition translated into English, means, turning a stranger into a friend, signifying a profound love and generosity towards strangers, embodying a tradition of warmth, hospitality and welcome. People would always say, “your father never met a stranger,” evidence in part, the Welch’s,who drove up to dad’s studio one day, years back, noticed a sign that said ‘would you buy a used pot from this man?’, with dads hairy mug smiling back. Well, the whole family became lifelong best friends, eventually moving from Iowa to Carbondale, just down the road from Marble.
“Thanos A. Johnson Studio, Summer Ceramics Workshop with Colorado Mountain College.”
This morning begins session one, week one, of dad’s first four week sessions of three. Students begin at 8AM, and go to 5PM, Monday-Friday, 45 hours of rigorous instructionper week. Twelve students per session, from all over the country, and a few from overseas, line up at the sliding door of the newly built 2 story studio, perched next to the pond, on a foundation of marble. The students shuffle in, the studio, smelling of fresh cut pine and Minwax stain, is quickly replaced by clouds of Patchouli Oil drifting behind, as if they all just returned from a Grateful Dead concert. After all, this was the 70’s.
Dad invented his own potters wheel, evidenced in his sketch here of the studio view of Sheep Mountain. It has heavy leaded weights below (5 spaced accordingly) on a round thick slab of teak, with holes bored at the edge of the top, so one could spin it, and keep it going with momentum, using a makeshift drumstick. Dad insisted that this was a better way to throw, looking down into the clay while forming it, instead of across, which is the standard foot paddle method.
After a quick tutorial on how to use the wheel, he slaps a mound of clay on one and throws a vase in 3 minutes, complete with the finishing rim detail at the top. Dad kept his pinkie nails long, to get just the right feel, instead of using a tool. Next, he humps 5 big slabs of virgin clay onto a kneading table, and asks his students to tell him something about themselves, as they work the clay, or as dad put it, ‘wake it up’. Dad had a methodical way of drawing the best out of his students. He wanted to know where they were from, the light, weather, history, culture there. He was genuinely interested in them, and challenged them. He didn’t want them spending their parent’s money for a romp in the Rocky Mountains for the summer.
One of dad’s favorite students, and quite the potter to boot, was none other than actor Robin Williams. Robin took dad’s pottery course over two years at College of Marin, CA., where dad was the Professor of Fine Arts there for many years. I have vivid memories of Robin at a Raku Firing at Point Reyes National Seashore. He was funny even then, and as hairy as a man you’d ever meet, which he poked fun at, dragging his arms like an ape and snorting and scratching.
Week 4: The Kiln Firing: The students, after letting their clay pots, plates, cups, vases, and bowls, dry over the last 3 weeks move them over to the gambrel kiln bar, just steps from the studio. No ashtrays though, dad wouldn’t have it, even though he still smoked a pipe at the time. Poof! The propane fueled kiln fires up for the first time of the summer. The pop and fizzle of cobwebs, and whatever else called it home over the long winter, drifts into the deep blue mountain sky. The students carefully place their collective ceramic pieces on a large rack. Dad uses long thongs, and places cones in various areas of the kiln. These will act as a thermometer, measuring the proper heat as they melt. Dad then moves his students to a tall metal antique postal letter chest, that he’s converted to keep his multitude of glazes in. The students now begin their first lesson in mixing.
Dad had an Einstein brain when it came to mixing just the right powders, alumina, silica, sodium’s, etc., to achieve the desired effect. His students are now schooled in mixing various glaze powder colors together with water, using a whisk to get it to a smooth consistency. Now, the glaze application begins. It’s an art of its own. Some glaze is dribbled on, others dipped. A small paintbrush, a sponge, ladles, funnels, a syringe, and a pencil tip for more finer details.‘Less is more”, was dad’s motto. “Where the glaze isn’t, is just as important as where it is.”
As the 4-week session comes to a close, the students fired pottery is critiqued, but not in the traditional sense. Students would critique other students work in a casual way, over coffee, tea and Greek pastries. Dad would write out his individually for each student, not voice his opinion to the class. This would include; comfort, shape, weight of cup, bowl, vase, or pot, the glaze color and application choices, etc.
Dad embraced all facets of pottery, but was most interested in Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and Greek/Byzantine techniques. He was a specialist in many of these arenas, and a living treasure of South Korea, but was most proud to have studied under Japan’s Shoji Hamada, widely recognized as the George Lucas/Steven Spielberg, of the pottery world. Dad was also a skilled pen on paper sketch artist, using a traditional fountain pen, plus worked in calligraphy, painting, watercolors, bronze, glass blowing, and large format photography. He was also a brilliant lecturer and writer.
In 2004, shortly after dad’s passing, I received a phone call from Greece. It was from a friend of his, Neofitou Keramik, who was a well known potter from the Island of Crete. ‘Neo,’ was saddened to hear about dad’s passing. He told me that dad and Mike Stranahan, dad’s close friend and travel companion, would visit Rhodes often. They’d sit at the local Tavern, ‘Taverna Yiannis,’ drink tea and sip ouzo, and catch up on life. Neo told me that dad was the cleverest man he’d ever known. I was confused by this, clever like a Badger I thought, only to learn later that he meant smart. The Greeks use the word clever to describe someone who is smart. Neo was one of many that Thanos touched on his travels across all parts of the globe, as an artist and a man, including Europe, Greece, S. Korea, Japan, China, S. Africa, Australia, New Zealand, etc.
Dad left a lasting impression and legacy that still inspires today, but most importantly, he never passed up the opportunity to ‘turn a stranger into a friend…’ Thanos A. Johnson, THE GODPOTTER.
Author Konstantine Iannios, and wife El, share their time between Marble and Grand Junction, CO. They are currently restoring the property in Marble, and converting the Studio into a museum of Thanos’s many works, helping to keep his rich legacy alive.