We have had something very special brewing and we are so excited to share it with you. To commemorate 10 years of Brewing Against the Machine we have created a custom chalice to contain your chosen comfort brew. Each piece has been handcrafted by a local Chattanooga artisan with a palpable depth and love poured into it. Pun intended. There are a limited number of these exquisite treasures available so don’t delay, secure yours today!
The Creative Process from the High Priest
As soon as Ayda approached me about doing mugs and showed me her skull designs, I immediately said yes. I had been wanting something special to celebrate our 10 years with, but I didn’t expect to have such a kickass mug! We spent some time going back and forth about different ideas, but I still felt there was something missing. Then it hit me… we ended up blending together several of her design elements into this one mug. And it came out even better than I could have imagined.
The idea I was ultimately going for was ‘shadow’, highlighting the duality we often find ourselves in. It exists all around us. You have the glossy finish on one half, and the matte on the other, divided by a line of skulls which could represent Memento Mori if you wanna be all stoic, or it could simply be a sick goth design. The lines symbolize water and the fluidity of life, with the gloss finish having more of a cosmic feel as if you’re staring into the abyss of a constantly expanding endless Universe. It even has a little surprise at the bottom, sorta like the dark caves we sometimes are too afraid to explore ;)
+Michael, High Priest
Artist Spotlight! Homebrew Pottery // Ayda Fisher
I guess the best place to start is that I am a Colombian-American who has always struggled with finding my footing. I grew up listening to both Los Chalchaleros and Judas Priest. I rode on the back of motorcycles wearing frills and toting a pink poodle around. I consistently struggled with identity and a sense of belonging in communities that perceived me as too feminine, too rough, too foreign, or too no sabo.
I know it's incredibly cliche, but my life really changed when I lived abroad in Japan for a year. My perceived halves made the whole of a new, interesting person that people were excited to meet. It was there, as I was learning who this new whole was, that I took my first pottery class. I thought nothing of it at first; I just needed a credit to fulfill my Fine Arts Minor. I learned to throw in the traditional Japanese way, with my wheel spinning clockwise and throwing with my right hand.
That singular semester changed my life's trajectory.
I was utterly hooked, but my university had no Ceramics program to return to. It was in the throes of the pandemic that I returned to the pottery wheel, using YouTube videos of Japanese and Korean tutorials to improve my throwing. I haven't stopped ever since. Everything I've learned since that single semester has been entirely self-taught through sheer grit and Taurus stubbornness.
Much of my work explores the balance I've always struggled with: strength in delicacy. So many people are scared to so much as touch my work, when my work is meant to be held. I never want my pieces up gathering dust on some shelf. That's why my pieces are always highly tactile. I want folks to pick up a mug, hold it close to their chest, and feel the texture of the skulls or glaze combinations beneath their fingers -- to stop questioning if it's okay, and to simply enjoy the art for what it was created to be: loved.
