by Eavin Moore

 Sometimes you don’t know what you know. You know?  For instance, I’ve known my friend Dooley Lawrence for over 30 years. I had seen his beautiful pottery creations displayed in Trails West booths and various retail settings, but it wasn’t until I visited his nearby farm/studio that I was able to add some scope to his art.
     
      It’s easy to miss the turn to Dooley’s place. You have to count the hills just a few miles northeast on 169 highway, on the way to Avenue City. It comes quick after the crest of one hill and the beginning of another. The neat white farmhouse, mown lawn and flower gardens are an oasis of sorts, surrounded by the plowed fields of agriculture.

      
      Dooley Lawrence, still slim and trim at 49, lives on the farm with his wife Mary and their two teenage children. The house has been in Mary’s family for generations, and it seems the perfect, peaceful location for my eclectic friend’s endeavors.
     
      He walks out of the overhead door of a two car garage as I pull in the driveway, smiles, gives me a big hug, and leads me toward his workspace. “Welcome to my world”, he says as we enter his studio.
     
      The building that once housed cars and other farm vehicles has been transformed to a new artful purpose. The interior walls have been painted with seemingly random graffiti-like symbols and imagery, providing an interesting background for the shelves of pottery lining every wall in the structure. Pots, vases, cups and saucers, sculptures big and small are all competing for the eye’s attention. There are so many pieces in a relatively small space that you almost have to pick up an individual selection to examine it closely.

      
      The first thing you notice when you look at one of Dooley’s creations is that it looks old. If I didn’t know where it came from, I wouldn’t know any way to guess its age. It certainly doesn’t resemble in any way the mass produced schlock, pulled from moulds in Mexico by workers making 90 cents a day.
     
      I’m clearly no expert, but if you told me one of the exquisite tea bowls on display was a centuries old piece from china, I couldn’t dispute it. The reason is that with few exceptions the technology Dooley uses has remained essentially the same for thousands of years. We’re talking wood fired pottery here.
     
      Starting with the most basic of components; clay from the ground itself, is mixed and shaped by the artists hand on a spinning potter’s wheel. Then it is glazed not by premixed, store bought crayola looking colors, but by feldspar, iron oxide, talc, and countless other minerals. And then comes the fire. Let’s talk about the fire.
     
      Most pottery is fired in electric kilns. Self contained. Thermostatically controlled. The vast majority of potters today enjoy the convenience and consistency of a modern unit about the size of a washer or dryer. Dooley’s hand stacked brick kiln is a wood eating, fire breathing monster over 20 feet deep.

      
      This is actually the fourth version that Dooley has built since he took his first pottery class at Missouri Western in the late 70’s, and he has since shunned the modern methods to embrace a nearly forgotten art.
     
      Firing the beast requires constant attention over a 7 day period, as it’s appetite for wood is huge. The internal temperature reaches 2,600 degrees Fahrenheit to complete the metamorphosis that changes raw elements from the ground into hard functional glass. It’s a “dance with fire” that leaves Dooley physically and emotionally spent to near collapse, but also spiritually enriched.
     
      A journalist once asked him if the process was kind of like baking a cake. “Sure,” he replied, if you bake your cake in a volcano!
     
      I had the privilege of being on hand one evening during the spring of ’06 firing. It was pitch black as I walked the path behind the house, but I could see the glow from over the hill. As I crested the top I could feel the heat waves from 100 feet away. The brick itself was so hot; it looked like the whole structure was going to melt.
     
      A soot streaked, sweat covered, naked down to the waist Dooley was feeding logs through a small opening in the kiln. “Don’t look directly inside without eye protection,” he warned. I used a piece of dark glass from a welder’s helmet and peeked inside. A quick second was all I could stand, but in that moment I truly had a vision of a white hot hell. I felt the hair on my knuckles singeing and had to back away. I will never understand how Dooley can continue the process over a full week with nothing but a quick 5 minute cat nap here and there. I know of Dooley’s deep appreciation of Native American spirituality, and wonder if it’s in any way similar to a sweat lodge or “vision quest” experience.
     
      What is clear to me above all else is that here is a man who suffers for his art. The aching back from stooping over the wheel. The carpal tunnel and arthritic fingers from years shaping pots and bowls. The compromised vision from staring into the fire. All have taken their toll. But knowing Dooley, he couldn’t have done it any other way.
     
      Over the years his work has brought attractive prices in galleries throughout the Midwest. He has also shown his work in festivals and art shows in the past, but admits that he far prefers the creative side to the marketing side. These days he would rather wait until the studio is getting crowded, then quietly let the word get out to the growing network of collectors who anxiously wait for the opportunity to add Dooley Lawrence originals to their shelves.
     
      My wife is one of his biggest fans and proudly displays several pieces in our home. Visitors regularly ask about them and if you are lucky enough to be on her gift exchange list, she has probably graced you with a one-of-a-kind creation for a special occasion.
     
      I had to do some talking to get him to agree to let me share a little of his world with my audience. He has no interest in a museum atmosphere where people randomly stop by, interrupting his work while they “look around”. But if on the other hand you are someone who genuinely appreciates hand crafted original objects d’art, call Dooley at 816-622-2102 to schedule a visit.
     
      Taking elements from the ground and creating objects of value both beautiful and functional, Dooley Lawrence is literally turning dirt into gold. Ask him nice and maybe he’ll say, “Come Look At My Stuff!”