The workshop is full of potential.I started working this month with great energy. I was deeply moved by the work of the Friends of Rowntree Park in York during lockdown. They engaged with all the neighbours, distributed sunflower seeds, planted the results, cultivated one of the garden plots with charming colourful herbaceous and annual plants, herbs, grasses, a plethora of moving and waving friendly plants. It was a joy to visit and sit and contemplate. I am a casual visit but I never miss a chance to check the place out. There are vistas there of a simple elegance that fill the soul with comfort. I take photos, too many photos, of the willows, the pergola, the knitted poppies, the duck house, the meandering water ribbon, the war helmet among the tall trees, the waving pavements of the skateboarding enclosure. There is always something in glorious vigour and always something in faded decay. I brought home the idea of making a series of simple bowls and pots sgraffitoed in celebration of their contribution to my well being and serenity. This is still an ongoing work and there are now several pinched bowls drying out and waiting for the next stage. In the meantime I started thinking of my ever present desire to honour and explore my ancestry. Why do I love ships and boats, the sound of the sea and the shapes that go along with all that? Can I work at making my ships less pretentious, less overwhelming and more true to the origins of sailing and navigating? Can I make them at all, with their flying sails and their sturdy masts? Does wet mud allow me this splendid vanity? Clay has always been kind to me. I sometimes forget to ask nicely, but if I do, and carefully manage the gravitational pull, I succeed. But the next question is: is this a proper idea to pursue? Most people I know make a certain kind of work that they are definitely passionate about; they become extremely good at refining their method and expressing their meaning. They forge a body of work over a period of time during which they deploy a limited range of methods and materials before moving on to the next big thing. I am not that person. I feel a little bit ashamed of saying this and very anxious that failing to curb this waywardness will ultimately not be in my interest. Sadly, I stray and boats have appeared. There are more, of course, waiting their turn to be polished and finished. And while all that happens - it has to be done slowly and carefully so that the joints don't fail - I am looking at the work of people like Jun Kaneko, Liang, Peter Voulkos, and others. They could do something that nobody else thought was worth attempting or even possible. They challenged the perceived idea of what ceramics is for. They invented, they persevered, they got their breaks. They succeeded in being hugely influential and in formative. I want to do that. I want to follow my inspiration where it takes me, but I know that I am not becoming very good at any one thing, but rather reaching out to many things. I am challenging the challengers and what everyone knows: you need to concentrate your efforts and push one agenda only. Its like a disease that I cannot do that. So, apart from all the above, I am also working on making slump moulds for constructing composite sculptures to express abstract ideas. The idea that does not have a face or an objective purpose, but rather propels each human being and circumscribes each person to their inner reality. How can I say this without a multitude of forms and accretions? Those difficult masts will help me achieve those difficult positions. We will see. Those moulds take weeks to dry. So I might start trying yet another....but wait, are the Rowntree Park bowls not dry yet?...
0 Comments
At first I heard there was a scary virus in China; then, I heard it had arrived in Italy; It was killing a lot of people. There were marvellous pictures of what it looked like on TV. I understood it would soon be among us - no, it was already among us quietly stalking the restaurants, the streets, the offices, the families. I was told not to be paranoid. It was the flu. I consulted the clay: I made what seemed a good basic start.I fired it and glazed it and had a disaster: the kiln overfired and I had on my hands a nasty virus with treacly blackened gloopy glaze. Was I distressed? Not a bit. It seemed the kiln knew a thing or two I hadn't thought about. I didn't take a photo, though. But I then heard there was no PPE for our hospital and caring staff; there were no tests; there was no cure; there was no certainty of any kind. So I decided the virus needed more information. I started to add copper wire for the miscommunication; bone sections for the dead and dying; turquoises and silver wire for the fat contracts for friends and benefactors of the government ; plastic beads for immigrant variants; wooden tubes for lies and deceit; a golden tissue of yellow quartz for its crown. It is a work in progress. There is much, much more to come. Eventually it will die as we all do. But before that, there will be a bit more fun to be had. Watch this space. |
Archives
April 2024
Categories
|