A tribute to Richard Batterham, whose pots spoke with quiet conviction

The contribution to the world of studio ceramics made by Richard Batterham, who died on 8 September 2021 at the age of 85, is monumental. I first met Richard in the 1970s when I visited him after having worked and studied with pioneer potter, Michael Cardew, whom he deeply admired. I had hoped that I might work for Richard, to gain further experience.

I was always impressed by him: he was seriously committed to his craft and I much admired the pots that he made. After some friendly conversation, I asked if I could work for him for a few months. ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘I do it all on my own.’ And that was how it remained for the rest of his life, apart from occasional help from Thiébaut Chagué and his youngest son, Reuben. Always true to himself, Richard’s integrity is embodied in everything he made.

He was destined to become a potter from an early age, having studied with Don Potter at Bryanston School. After two years of national service he then worked at the Leach Pottery where he met Japanese potter Hamada Atsuya (the third son of the renowned Hamada Shoji) who he always spoke very warmly of. One of the other students at that time was Dinah Dunn, who he married in 1959.

In the same year, they bought a pottery in Durweston, Dorset, and Richard produced a biscuit firing from his first kiln aged twenty-three. The Batterhams lived in a caravan for seven years while the workshop and house were being redesigned and reconstructed by architect James Leask. In 1966 they moved into the house, and the following year the oil and wood-fired kiln became fully operational.

Richard’s love of clay, and of mixing it to his complete satisfaction, was very apparent. Repetition throwing on the wheel was an extension of that creativity, which refreshed and fulfilled him throughout his life. He made it all look so simple, as any master craftsman does.

Refining forms, slips and glazes, introducing a cobalt blue brush mark on a rim, or chatter marks inside a bowl – all these meticulous details were carefully considered, and anything new would go back to his own house to be closely observed, and used. Consistency in his technique was of paramount importance to him, as were the small differences in form and decoration that evolved, and so pleased him. Richard’s pots have that quality which makes us want to go back to them time and time again – they quietly speak to us. Each functional piece that he made is a joy to use, perfectly formed and finessed.

Time spent talking to Richard was always rewarding and illuminating, and his friendship was warm and compassionate. He was keenly attuned to how people appreciated and got involved with pots – by using them – which to his mind meant meeting him half-way. He was a profound thinker, and listened as attentively. The joy he derived from making, the love that went into his work and his keen interest in people all contributed to his philosophy of human behaviour, and his pots represent this breadth of interests.

Richard loved re-connecting with his earlier work. Exhibitions for him were an opportunity to take stock of the best of his work to date – from that point he could then move on and keep improving. It never occurred to him to stamp his work – why would he need to? His pots could not have been made by anyone else.

He kept abreast of what was going on in the pottery world, without moving from Durweston. I visited him there regularly over 40 years – to see him, to discuss many aspects of pottery and to choose pots for the next London exhibition that I was curating. (I often took with me, as a gift, oxtail stew and plum crumble – his favourites.)

It took me years to persuade him that it would be a good idea to make a film about him and his life’s work. ‘Who on earth would want to watch it?’ he asked. The film that the Joanna Bird Foundation made with Alex J. Wright was finally released in 2017 and he was very pleased with it.

Today, Richard's work can be found in museums world-wide, in the Crafts Council Collections and in countless private collections. He had two important exhibitions in 1972 and 1984 at the Crafts Centre, London, and a retrospective at Contemporary Applied Arts in 2016. He also exhibited internationally, in Sweden and in Germany. 

Richard would have wanted his work to inspire forthcoming generations of potters. And he remains an inspiration for us all. He was a true friend and an impressive character; self-assured through self-reliance and self-belief, yet warm in his heartfelt approach to life.

Of all the giants I have known, he was the gentlest.

An exhibition of works by Richard Batterham (1936 - 2021) will run at the V&A from 26 November 2021 to September 2022 and will be accompanied by a publication later in the year