Photos by Garrett Cook David McDonald works clay into round shapes that undergo two firings in his outdoor kiln—the first at 1,800 degrees, the second at 2,400 degrees. During the process, as many as seven colored glazes “boil and bubble” in beautiful and often unpredictable ways, he relates. The resulting Shield Mandalas range in diameter from 15" to 25" or larger.

GUEST ARTIST

The sidewalk leading to ceramist David McDonald’s Prescott home studio is embedded with pieces of his colorful pottery. He had placed them there himself in artistic fashion a while back.
  
The Arizona artisan recalls another setting where bits of pottery became a source of fascination. It was during a two-year ceramics apprenticeship in the late 1970s in rural Mashiko, Japan. Master artisans there were pursuing their craft as their forebears had done for centuries. And a young McDonald, with self-taught Japanese and a solid ceramics education behind him, was working hard to learn their exacting skills—literally from the ground up.

“When I was in Japan, part of my apprenticeship duties was to sweep the grounds of the workshop complex every day,” he recalls. Often, he says, “I would find shards of pottery from the area’s ancient past coming out of the ground as I swept. The potter’s craft has a very enduring quality to it.”

McDonald’s love of this craft began when the Phoenix native was a 17-year-old in high school. Today, he is known for circular works that he calls Shield Mandalas. He had read about the history of mandala symbols in various religions and appreciated the symbolic notion of  “the whole world enclosed in a circle.”

The ceramist employs techniques he discovered in Japan—such as using glazes much like an artist uses in painting a canvas—and keeping a “design simple, more minimalist, and not ornate.” His Mandalas often reflect things found in nature, and, indeed, their shapes are reminiscent of sand dollars, mushroom caps and tortoise shells, he says. Recognizable universal themes also appear on the shields, including spirals, the human hand or ladders.

But do not look for symbolism in a given piece, he advises. “I prefer not to put meaning to it.” He rather wonders, “Is it pleasing to someone?” Apparently so. His Shield Mandalas are in private collections and in several galleries, including Pinnacle Gallery in Scottsdale.

Gallery owner Joanne Hildt says the Mandalas appeal to many—one reason being their versatility. “They adapt to many different environments, including Contemporary, Tuscan and Southwest homes. They can hang on a wall or sit on a tabletop. People love them.”

McDonald perfected his method of making Mandalas 18 years ago. He first creates a plaster form on which he incises textural designs, and later lays rolled-out clay upon it. At his potter’s wheel, he works the clay on the form until the clay picks up the relief design. “A typical production cycle, from forming the clay to pulling it out of the kiln, is a little over two weeks,” he says.


Reminiscing about his career and the importance of what he had learned in Japan, a smiling McDonald admits that when he got to that country, his knowledge of the Japanese language was not helpful, for the people he worked with spoke a dialect he had yet to learn.

When he finished his apprenticeship in 1980, he opened his first studio in Prescott and set about crafting sake bottles and containers for soy sauce. “How many do you think I sold?” he asks, and, laughing, answers: “None!” So, he says, “I made chip-and-dip platters, kerosene lanterns, plates and cups, and they sold like mad.” And, eventually, at the art fairs he was participating in, all of those sake and soy sauce items sold as well.

At times, he makes utilitarian pieces, but Mandalas are now his stock in trade. Whatever he is pursuing, McDonald remains thrilled by the possibility of  making “something from nothing,” which, he reflects, possibly might exist for centuries.