Rise of the Clay Jock

Like the slow-food celebrity chef, fitness coach, or makeup guru, pottery has become yet another flavor of instantly consumable content.

Craftsmanship in Japan

The video opens on a seated man straddling a mud-splattered basin. The camera is centered just below his navel. He wears a faded blue apron around his waist, met by a loose grey shirt that reveals taupe muscles. A small dark-blue gage enlarges his left earlobe. His head is shaved bald under a faded blue baseball cap. A round beige object fills the center of the frame, obscuring most of his torso.

With both hands he sets a huge lump of latte-colored clay on a flat metal plate in the center of the basin. The plate begins to spin. He slaps the lump into a pinecone shape. He squeezes water on top, making it glisten. It becomes smooth and tall between his hands. He compresses the clay into a wide cake. Both thumbs dip into the center. With one hand, he pulls out a thick ring. The ring grows into a cylinder. He plunges his entire left arm into the opening as a thick tube extends from the base of the wheel. The tube bulges outwards while he smooths the exterior with a wooden rib tool. He delicately narrows the neck at the top. The clip ends and immediately starts over before a minute has passed.

This is a composite @tortus Instagram video. The account appears to document the life and work of ceramicist Eric Landon. But Tortus is less a man than a brand through which the attention economy ventriloquizes.

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