The Year 2014

Looking back at the year, I feel a sad regret that so much of my time was spent out of the studio, struggling with writing and reading, travelling and seeking.

Starting about this time last year, I made two large pots which took me to challenges I had not faced before and about 35 tiny fold-up pots that taught me the humility of the artisan; the  painstaking work of controlling objects smaller than you and the muscle-building work of attacking a pot bigger than your arm.

I wanted to slow down production, to make everything count.  Instead, I had to turn my back on ceramic for most of the time.  I allowed that to happen.

For next year, I have a challenge that has to be faced: a mural inspired by the cobbled sidewalks of Lisbon.  I am back on the blog, this time monthly, to chart the progress of the plan.

First up: buy enough clay to finish the job.

Back to Sculpture

Started yesterday a large piece working in a different way.  Made a drawing indicating overall dimensions and planes, and some of the marks that might end up in there. Then, using Earthstone Original (2 bags found in the workshop!) made large slabs leaving texture and natural edges in place.  The idea would be to use these in the finished piece.  The texture has been a bit random:  it derives from stretching the clay over plastic and then peeling it off, The suction leaves sticky marks.  Left it more or less covered in plastic, hoping to get to the right consistency and hoping to have made enough slabs.

Today pieced together two very sharply pointed triangles making an angle and attached that to a dorsal piece, also at an angle.  The worry of collapse and failed joints takes over and the finer hopes for using the texture were somewhat lost in translation.  Also made the other half of the dorsal piece, joining three slabs at different levels and one of them making a conical mass to the side.  Tried to stuff material underneath to start curving the labs so they don't just stand there stiffly.

It is impossible, at present, to get underneath and cure the joints from the inside, as pieces will collapse.  I fear the forthcoming need to stand the pieces up to make a vessel and also the inability to look further than a couple of simple moves.  I know now why I never took to chess.

I need still today to work on the front of the piece as well, so that the whole can be assembled further come the weekend.

This piece feels like combat armour. It feels like old and perhaps discarded or obsolete body protection. in part of it there is resignation (front) and in the back an entrance or portal for coming and going - maybe a revolving door.

The Coy Craftsman

Preparing for workshops. Thinking about the format, getting the publicity done.  Then, endless lists of materials and possible directions. Endless checklists. Endless, tedious, resolving of small questions, endless, finicky, decisions.

But yet, somehow, the enthusiasm persists and the contours of life become more vivid with plans and participation.

I get so much out of doing workshops: will I get anything at all out of giving them?

workshops

I have decided to plunge in and offer some slabbing workshops, hoping to bring together a few people who can see their manipulation of clay and fire as a vehicle for ideas and connection. It is hard to imagine the leap of faith necessary for people who have never touched clay to see how they can produce something that is not blobby and disgusting. It is my job to offer real boundaries to someone's aspiration: not too ambitious, but ambitious enough. We will probably not find anyone who is totally a beginner and perhaps even come up with some people who have ideas and know their mind. But I have no expectations one way or another, in this regard.

In fact, it is patent that I have very few expectations: I am sure of what is on offer and positive that it is good value and worthwhile. I am sure that the experience of working in a group towards a three dimensional object that you create from a blank material should be richer than working alone in pre-formed substances that offer much more limitation from true outset... so long as you are not too intimidated at the prospect!

The reason for insisting on slabbing is that you have to have a solid starting point given that everything else is open to interpretation.

We will see who takes up this challenge and what the end product will be.

Workshop will be on 22nd and 29th June and on 13th July 2012 in Holymoorside Village Hall.

Ancient Rugs

Under my feet, a beautiful Persian rug. The angular designs are full of movement and expression. The fine threads stand perfectly erect, side by side, all absolutely identical, a deep blood red ground contained by exquisite black lines, columns, boxes and hatchings.

Our smart living rooms are a fit context for these superb works of art. They sit there and give us the feeling of great luxury and affluence. But where did this serene artefact start life? In such a different place, in such different circumstances! Can I imagine where the first crossing of threads took place? The room, the village, the family? what sounds were about, what smells? What payment? What inspiration? What cause and reason? Why this and no other pattern? This and no other colour? How is it done, this perfect example of this ancient craft?  How was it arrived at?

There are records of patterns, names, descriptions; it is known where a rug comes from; its value can be estimated from the number of threads per inch and the quality of the material employed. There is a whole field of scholarship dedicated to this ancient tradition of rug making.

But the people who pursue this scholarship do not necessarily dedicate much time to considering the hands that do the work, or even those who profit from it.

I think of ancient patterns being handed down in families; I imagine small children and fine-boned women working the looms day on day, year on year, their slender fingers playing the described tune of their templates on the weft and weave; I think of dusty floors, cavernous, solitary, dusty workplaces and dimmed eyes counting threads,  choosing the next hue, putting in a mistake, unpicking a piece.

These books are full of nostalgia and wistfulness; they are sad and deliberate;  they have endured and survived many a mishap. They definitely take the long view; but they are fragile and vulnerable in their old age.

Team and Solo

Is it better to go it alone or team up?  The question has arisen so many times lately and in such different contexts, that I feel the need to take a good look at it, turn it around and give it a whirl.

I find that potting has been firmly in the back seat for a long while.  I have ideas, I sketch, I make space and time, I plan and yearn to go to work, but there is always some other activity pulling me away from the worktable. And all these 'urgent' things have to do with other people.

Last time I spent some time with the clay, I produced a series of objects that I was very pleased with - as a starting point to something; at the same time, I noticed that I started to receive a series of emails asking why it was that I was not responding, or turning up, or pulling my weight...

I don't actually resent this or find it irksome: I feel very energised to be working with others. It is just that I seem to be doing a lot of the organising and planning, and enjoying being thanked for it.

The Cruzader

The Cruzader is a figure of the imagination. He abandons home and safety to travel far away into dangerous lands, full of enemies of all kinds and traps. He seems naive, sad, depressed and lost. He is shrouded in the great christian zeal - Defender of the Faith, Hammer of the Infidel but  to look at he appears puny, vulnerable and bewildered.

Behind him, the shadow of the Inquisition:The fortress to be conquered, the fear to bear and die under.

There is something of the clown in the Cruzader, for the modern person. It all seems so pointless!

As a Portuguese person, I have in my past the shadow of these Cruzaders as well. They started the obcession with North Africa that would be the equivalent in England of Britanny: we have to have it, occupy it, conquer it, but can't and it took time to give up the idea.