Vancouver Art Gallery’s Written in Clay explores meaning of collecting, with new show and book about John David Lawrence

Long-time Vancouverite shares some of his staggeringly massive collection of B.C. ceramics, on display and in the pages of The Place of Objects

John David Lawrence at home. Photo by Vancouver Art Gallery

 
 

The Vancouver Art Gallery presents Written in Clay: From the John David Lawrence Collection to November 9

 

JOHN DAVID LAWRENCE IS a collector.

That’s not just a polite way of saying the long-time Vancouverite has a lot of stuff, although that, too, is certainly true. A new book from the Vancouver Art Gallery and Figure 1 Publishing, The Place of Objects, makes an eloquent (and visually stunning) argument that Lawrence’s collecting is driven by something more than simply a desire to acquire things. 

Published in conjunction with the VAG’s new showing of a small sliver of Lawrence’s ceramics collection, The Place of Objects is partly an exhibition catalogue, partly a biography, and partly an inquiry into the very meaning of collecting.

In an opening essay simply titled “Collecting”, cultural historian Michael J. Prokopow (who co-edited the book with the VAG’s Stephanie Rebick), writes of Lawrence: “For John David, objects matter because they serve as portals to culture, testaments to the stunning creativity of people across place and time in the making of things for use that are beautiful, poignant, thought provoking and telling.”

In the case of Lawrence’s ceramics, the “place and time” in question is British Columbia from the 1920s to the turn of the millennium. At a press preview of the new VAG exhibition Written in Clay, senior curator Diana Freundl said, “Our organizing principle for this was loosely chronological but looking at trying to capture the depth of the collection, so to pick 186 pieces out of 1,500 was very difficult.”

That’s not a typo. Lawrence does indeed estimate that he owns 1,500 ceramic works by B.C. artists, from well-known figures including Gathie Falk, Bill Rennie, and Laura Wee Láy Láq to more obscure potters and even a few whose names are lost to history.

 

Wayne Ngan’s 1970s Tea Bowls, from the collection of John David Lawrence. Photo by Vancouver Art Gallery

 

Even considering the biases inherent in having been drawn from one man’s personal holdings, Written in Clay provides a compelling overview of the history of ceramics practice in this province, highlighting the materials, techniques, and cultural contexts that shaped its development.

The exhibition is organized into three thematic sections. “Emphasis on Function” focuses on functional pottery (think bowls, vases, and casseroles) that balances practicality with artistic expression. “A Sculptural Turn” follows a shift toward experimentation, with artists exploring more expressive forms. A series of “Artist Spotlights” celebrates key figures—including Axel Ebring, Charmian Johnson, Thomas Takamitsu Kakinuma, and Wayne Ngan—whose contributions were particularly impactful.

Interviewed by Prokopow for The Place of Objects, Lawrence speaks of his love for these clay works in near-mystical terms: “Now, I have grown to have a philosophy about ceramics. I think it’s alchemy. It’s magic. Same as glass. It’s taking one object, one substance that you’ve been familiar with all your life, and making it into something else.”

When they’re not on loan to major art galleries, these pieces are on display in Lawrence’s Chinatown apartment. Yes, all 1,500 of them, alongside myriad paintings, photos, sculptures, and countless fine examples of Indigenous art. Famously, Lawrence doesn’t believe in storing any of his beloved finds in boxes, which makes his home akin to a living museum.

 

Kathleen Hamilton’s 1969 vase, from the collection of John David Lawrence. Photo by Vancouver Art Gallery

Thomas Takamitsu Kakinuma’s 1970s Owl, from the collection of John David Lawrence. Photo by Vancouver Art Gallery

“I see them not as something I own, but as things that I’m taking care of.”
 

As Rebick writes in The Place of Objects, “John characterizes the cultivation and development of one’s collection as a work of assemblage, an apt description of what he has constructed in his home, which is an intense, sensorial work of installation art—an interactive multiroom cabinet of curiosities.”

Perhaps what’s most remarkable about Lawrence’s apartment-cum-archive is that he has a story for everything it contains. He can tell you not just about the object itself, but also how and when he came to acquire it.

“And whether he is sharing an anecdote about a vibrant collaged painting by Richard Tetrault,” Prokopow writes, “his rare and compact dining set by the Danish designer Hans Wegner, his thousands of CDs and DVDs, his modernist harpsichord or vintage black and white photograph of men in some logging camp dressed in drag (a photo that hangs with alacrity over his toilet), or his pots and jewellery, in every instance John David’s love of his objects is about his understanding of the imperatives of creativity, the important roles that things play in the making of life and the obligations of ensuring their safe passage into the future.”

Lawrence has certainly considered his legacy and his role as a steward of the beautiful things with which he surrounds himself. “They do matter to me,” he tells Prokopow in the book. “I see them not as something I own, but as things that I’m taking care of. More so now than ever.”

 
 

 
 
 

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