It’s been a long six months without
making anything. The simple reason is that the idea of clay dust in the kitchen
doesn’t exactly push my buttons (sometimes the thought of clay is like the
thought of secondhand cigarette smoke*—don’t want to be anywhere near it). Not
exactly got a studio in the basement with excellent ventilation either. There’s
still half a bag of clay underneath the sink that has been there since the cows
came home, untouched, but because it is well wrapped up, and sellotaped in
places where the bag has torn, it’s surprisingly still soft and ready when I
am.
Finally something was jammed together
this week in a couple of hours. Don’t think anything more than three hours has
ever been spent on the construction of one piece (painting can take longer). It
was not going very well and that familiar urge to suddenly splat it on the
floor and start again appeared, but then it found itself and became something
just as suddenly. Part of the process is accidental, working with whatever
grooves come to light while you are forging a general shape. One thing for sure
is that these curvy groovy hand-builds really are unique, as attempts to
recreate them exactly the same have failed miserably. A cast would be needed
for that, and the idea of plaster anywhere about my person is even worse than
clay, and almost as bad as cigarette smoke.
The designs continue to evolve naturally
without ever having any real planning. Sculpture is about fingers and clay, not
architectural drawings and steel frames. Alien objects by working class hands.
*no offense, smokers, been there.
As you can see in the 2nd picture down, forget fancy glazes...
THE BEST FINISH IS WET CLAY
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