"Hurricane miniatures" - By George Bowes.

Common origins in earth and fire are just about the only features shared by the array of vessels and objects displayed around the margins of Convivium 33 Gallery's massive space (formerly the nave of St. Josaphat Catholic Church), on exhibit through May 25.

Anything ceramic begins in a bed of clay on the banks of a river and proceeds into the belly of a furnace, sometimes baking at temperatures of more than 2,000F. If you look closely enough, even the airiest of porcelain teacups hints of conditions and potencies from extreme beginnings. The show at Convivium, which celebrates three decades of Judith Saloman's and William Brouillard's achievements as ceramics instructors at the Cleveland Institute of Art, contains examples from the length of contemporary ceramics' emotional and technical range. For anyone paying attention to CIA graduates and their ongoing careers since 1978 when Saloman was hired, the roster of those who studied with her and Brouillard is a Who's Who of the field - and not only in Northeast Ohio. The show's co-curators Deirdre Daw and George Bowes have long since moved to greener pastures on different coasts, and at least half of the 40-odd artists - whose work sits on the floor, perches on shelves or pedestals, or hangs on the wall between Convivium's 10-foot tall arches - are now scattered around the country.

In general, the show presents a banquet of visual and tactile treats engaging the senses more shamelessly than formal sculpture is apt to do. David Alban's "Jaw," for instance, is an 18-inch-long, 3-inch-wide, rust-colored chunk of high-fire clay set with a long row of square grinding teeth. Alban has been long noted for his Rust-Belt attitude, based in a 1980s-era neo-expressionist vein of ironic overstatement. Nearby, along the north wall, Kirk Mangus' "Two Goldfish" consists of a pair of clunky little fish, tragicomically marooned on a long, thin platter. Among the works in between, Kristen Kliffel's "Wish You Were Here" carefully renders a sweet-enough-to-eat basket and bunny ensemble, a send-up of cuteness and fluff encountered in the wrong aisle in the wrong season in any craft store or in most little girls' bedrooms. It's also a fascinated examination of the role such "domestic mythology" (as Kliffel writes in her artist's statement) plays in our lives. Also striking in deeply imitative terms are Lisa Clague's representations of a rabbit and a duck (sort of) hanging in front of what appear to be lungs, titled "Are You Still Breathing," and John Sweeney's amphibian-like, wart-studded "The Girl."

Brouillard and Saloman have established distinct, almost opposing territories for themselves as instructors and as artists over the years. A mini-show of their work located up on the converted church's former altar platform gives audiences a quick overview of their recent output. Saloman's subtle, mainly abstract slab-built works explore her abiding interest in modernist architecture and in the visual poetics of contiguity. She writes, "The way two walls meet ... the way a sidewalk meets the curb..." constitute the sort of experiences that feed her formal approach. Brouillard, on the other hand, is best known for his large-scale Majolica ware platters. These tend to function as skillfully wrought ceramic objects, and also as surfaces for elaborate painting projects. Some are brushed with decorative motifs, but many are more programmatic, often expressing political or broad social concerns. In the center of one such work at Convivium, a two-faced vessel is pictured. It features a robot and human skull looking in opposite directions, flanked by crossed American flags. All around the flat edge of the deep round plate runs a line of short bolts; at the bottom the words "Made in the USA" have been superseded by a yellow slip that says "outsourced." Salomon's tower-like "White Construction Vase," on the other hand, is a 2-foot-high exploration of the properties of space, wrapping a garment of white walls like a gown around a little piece of emptiness. The artist links quick, white rectangular sections pierced intuitively with rounded openings. Like her "White Construction," also on view, it speaks without sentiment of bones and moon and the night, remembering also the ebb and flow of art history.

Some works here are plainly functional, but with a distinctive flair, like Susan Gallagher's teapot and cup and saucer, or the skillfully molded and glazed porcelain cup and multiple saucer set by Melissa Horner. Leanne Ash's exquisitely stacked creamer combo delivers Zen-like inklings of the border between use and quiddity. Curator Deirdre Daw, who has been known for her outspoken ware since the late 1980s, conducts a durable pamphleteering as she combines functional and ideological intent. Here Daw's funky vessel "Memphis Air" depicts smog in long, twisting vertical lines, transcribing an air-quality alert bulletin around the base. Also concerned with the atmosphere, George Bowes, who now lives in stormy Galveston, Texas, displays a highly innovative wall assemblage titled "Hurricane Miniatures," consisting of some 39 shell-like porcelain ovals arranged in an irregular diamond configuration, as if condensed on the wall. Each depicts a satellite view of a white curl of hurricane clouds; several also feature objects like beach chairs and umbrellas painted in red.

"the girl" By John Sweeney.

Other objects are less ambiguously a matter of abstract exposition, like Jacob Drake's dynamic terra cotta sculpture "Transient Orb," or Yomiko Gotu's densely seductive white stoneware "Swirl." Similarly, Eva Kwong's small "Passion Within" seems imbued with dimensions of potency and gestation, while Mary Jo Bole's extraordinary "50 Turns" is probably the most innovative and mysterious piece on view. At first glance the black meter-high oval hung at eye-level could almost be a mirror. But pale hands with light green fingernails can be seen, clutching roses and weeds, floating up from the polished enamel-on-steel surface. Boles' photogenic drawings, concerned with mortality, untimely loss and vanity, are made using a process she learned from a manufacturer of funerary photo-based plaques.

In a quick, funny phone interview, Saloman remarked that she and Brouillard "together make up a whole person. We're both department head at CIA, because neither of us really wants to deal with the paperwork; we pass it back and forth every two years, like a hot potato. But we love working with students. If there's a problem, between the two of us we take care of it."

Decades of enthusiasm, intelligently directed creativity and a lot of hard work make for an unforgettable selection of objects and interests, displayed like the spiritual artifacts and concerns that they are in Convivium's ecclesiastically retired but still sacred space. It's a show that makes you wonder why survey exhibits of this scope highlighting Ohio artists' achievements are relatively rare, at least in Cleveland's schedule of arts events.

CIA Ceramics Program 1978-2008: Through May 18 at Convivium 33 Gallery, 1433 E. 33rd St., 216.881.7838.