March - April 2025
By Kyle Jacobson
“Every art fair, I get at least a dozen or more really horrible comments,” says Ryan Myers. “People upset with my work, or they’ll say, ‘What the [expletive deleted] is this [expletive deleted]. I don’t want to be in your dreams.’”
Welcome to the wonderful world of being an artist who doesn’t fall in line. Many of Ryan’s pieces are instantly recognizable with their subdued facial expressions and revealed teeth. The effect may initially be off putting, but spending time staring into the lidded eyes of one of his bird sculptures inevitably taps into some back part of the mind. Why is this familiar? Just as with the glassy sheen of a placid lake, we start imagining everything going on underneath the surface.
Then Ryan shared some of his inspirations (comic books, superhero stuff, antiques, and South American ceramics), and the aura of his work started to take shape. Birdman, He-Man, and Johnny Quest jumped to mind, and I reveled in a piece of my childhood I’d not considered in decades. But that’s me. Other viewers will find something else reflecting back—an extension of incoherent experiences that insist on some level of meaning. Some might see that energy as taboo. I started to see it as rad, with the ability to inspire everyone from art connoisseurs to skateboarders.
Photograph by Ryan Myers
Going back to his days at Viterbo University in La Crosse, Ryan really just wanted to make art. But getting to that point wouldn’t be so straightforward. Art students often struggle to make a living on their work alone, so a supplementary career is often recommended. For Ryan, it was teaching K-12.
After completing the education program and becoming K-12 certified, Ryan realized “I had enough credits where if I stayed another semester, I could get my BFA too. While I was in school that final semester getting my BFA, I had an adjunct professor who pushed me toward grad school. He helped me get into UW–Madison.”
Ryan fondly remembers the UW–Madison program having low enrollment while he attended, from 2002 to 2005. Not only was he receiving an education from great professors, some of whom became great friends, but he also had access to unlimited kiln space. It was a luxury he shared with the undergrads who were in the class he assistant taught. Ryan also met Kay, who he would later marry.
After grad school, Ryan moved to Stoddard to be closer to his daughter in La Crosse and focus on making life as an artist work. “I had to rethink what I was making because I was trying to sell it,” says Ryan. “That’s where the pots started. I started making sculptural, functional pieces. People are more likely to buy a functional piece, even if they never use it.”
After a short time substitute teaching K-12, “I had the opportunity to teach at Viterbo. I taught there for four years. It was just adjunct and paid horrible, but I had a blast.” Kay, on the other hand, couldn’t find a job she truly wanted. She was overworked and underpaid, so after some discussion, Ryan and Kay decided to move to Madison.
Photograph by Ryan Myers
Today, Ryan and his family live in Stoughton, where he has been able to focus on his art full-time for the last three years. His studio is loaded with pieces at every phase of creation on shelves and against walls. In the corner sits an electric kiln, but the past year was spent gathering brick to build his own wood-fire kiln in the backyard, something he’s wanted since going out to wood fire his pieces at Picnic Point in Madison 20 years ago.
“The thing I like about wood firings is when it has some flashing and there are different tones and layers. It’s all natural. There’s no glaze on the outside; it’s all in the atmosphere. … I grew up around antiques. My dad was a dealer, and I feel like that’s why I make stuff primitive. I want texture. I try to distress my pieces so it looks like they have some history and some age.” Different woods result in a range of effects: oak for a yellowish color, elm for orange, and pine for a green gloss appearance.
Much to Ryan’s nature, letting the process of wood firing take over is part of the enjoyment. “Every time I unload the kiln, it’s kind of exciting or very disappointing.” If you turn over some of Ryan’s pieces, you’ll notice color variations indicating the path of the flame.
Being a full-time artist is also possible because Ryan has learned where to spend his time and effort. As noted earlier, art fairs can be a bust because people aren’t looking for the style of art he creates, so he focuses on pottery tours.
Photograph provided by Schaller Gallery
“Part of the excitement about finding this place in Stoughton is the Clay Collective Pottery Tour. I’ve been a part of that for years, and now I’m a host. So I’m a stop on the tour. There’s two sales: a spring sale and a fall sale. I don’t have to do anything except clean up my space and walk out my door in the morning.” Ryan also participates in the St. Croix Pottery Tour in Minnesota as well as others in the Midwest.
Though some pieces are biographical, such as a head with a bird’s nest in its mouth—representing his finding a place to call home, Ryan views his work very matter of factly. “To some extent, they’re just pots. I feel people will, because there’s a face on it, believe there has to be more to it. Why is this a cup with a face on it? What’s the history? I want the perceived idea that there’s a history behind it, but that’s not necessarily anything more than a cup.”
I think a small part of why Ryan creates is to see people’s reactions as they project themselves onto his pieces—arriving at meaning where none explicitly exists. He then focuses on furthering his own meaning after pottery-tour season by taking time off to be with his daughters, explore Greater Madison’s bike trails, and fish placid waters.