These forms above where made by casting plaster (2:1 plaster to water ratio) into thrown vessels with the technique described here. Red and black iron oxide was used to dye the plaster and the yellow surface effect is the result of using yellow earthenware clay to cast into. I enjoy the surprise of finding the hidden inside form within the clay once the plaster has set, it’s always a mystery to what form it will take. These plaster casts are fragile, they feel like eggshells to hold. I prefer the more complex asymmetrical forms like the one at the top of this page – it looks alien. The smaller pieces that fell off look a lot like shells. The pink one is also interesting, the controlled, smooth inside of the thrown vessel becomes the outside and the inside is changed to the very gloopy looking texture of plaster halfway to drying. It looks like the inside is alive, spilling out onto the outside.
It would be possible to make moulds from these moulds and complete the circle with a slipcast ceramic object which had the original’s inside form on the outside. Simpler, symmetrical forms would probably be best to try out first though.
David suggested I work from my Port Eynon drawings on a larger scale using charcoal and to consider positive and negative spaces in order to think about how to start working three dimensionally from my sketches. I used the graphic work of Spanish sculptor Eduardo Chillida as a source of inspiration. His balance of black/white and positive/negative space has fed into today’s charcoal drawings below. Chillida’s 2D work translates well into sculptures because of how well defined the lines and forms are. My drawings are a little more ambiguous, the forms melt in and out of the paper and it’s difficult to say where lines start and end, which make it hard thinking of these as objects in clay. These drawings are inspired by the landscape but are not of any landscape we would recognise – they are almost Dali-esque in their blobiness…
I started exploring space by photocopying my drypoint/monoprint, sticking these to mountboard then cutting out forms which slot together. These remind me of the rock formations higher up on Port Eynon beach. I like the way cutting up the forms distorts the surface pattern, the lines are no longer recognisable to me and take on a kind of life of their own. I also like the way these flat objects remind me of theatrical scenery.
I’m thinking of recreating the decoration by using slips and transfers on porcelain slabs. I like the quality of line and depth of tone/pattern a lot, they remind me a bit of the illustrations of Dave Mckean. I don’t feel very confident working with slabs and I don’t know much about printing onto ceramics so this is an opportunity to gain some new skills. Verity Howard’s work might be worth looking into in more depth.
‘In other cultures, time is cyclical. It’s seen as moving in great, unhurried circles. It’s always renewing and refreshing itself. Whereas in the West, time is linear. It’s a finite resource; it’s always draining away. You either use it, or lose it’.
How can we change our approach to time in order to stop our mindless ‘roadrunner’ existences and live more meaningfully ‘in the moment?’. Carl Honore suggests we stop thinking of ‘slow’ as a taboo, dirty word with connotations of stupidity and laziness and start working towards a ‘good slow’, living at a slower pace and rhythm of life.
The other day I re-watched ‘ Luna’ – a mesmerising, ambiguous and totally underrated film directed by the genius Dave McKean and I realised it explores a key theme I want to respond to in my work: balance, in this case the balance between fantasy and reality. The dialogue in a scene around the dinner table exposes how unreliable our mind and memories are and suggests the reality we create is part based on fantasy. We spoke a little about this in Theo Humphrey’s professional practice session today, about how our minds jump to conclusions because we are constantly bombarded with so much data, this is the only way we can make sense of and navigate the world.
D: I think there’s precious little connection with the real world at the moment, but I don’t think you are crediting fantasy with a proper role here. I’m not talking about ghosts and fairies, I’m talking about our fantasy lives, no, our imaginative lives.
G: You can play around with the words, but it all amounts to the same thing, lack of engagement.
C: Well I’d like to hear what you have to say.
D: Thank you, I just feel there is very little fact in our lives at the moment, very little reality. This is real, our conversation is real, but what’s going to happen in an hour or so? You will have your version of events, I will have mine, and they will both be different. There will be a chaos of memories, misinterpretations, lateral connections and they will all be a fantasy. In fact, everything that you hope for and dream about, that is all a fantasy…and the layers of associations and connections that every second your brain is making as we navigate this world, it is all just a fantasy. And yet it seems as real as the news on TV, the sound of this table, the people we love, and that’s why it’s very important to deal with this definition of fantasy in our lives…
G: What about young Freya here, where do you stand on the great fantasy versus reality debate?
D: The two are not mutually exclusive.
F: Tango. I tango.
C: You dance tango.
F: Mhm. Twice a week. And if you want to see, if you’re really interested in observing the actual balance in our lives between what you call the real world and what Dean here thinks of as our fantasy lives…then it’s poised. Perfectly, in tango.
C: I’d love to go dancing.
F: It’s much more than a dance. It’s a negotiation…between friends and enemies and lovers. It’s where you see how ridiculous we all are in our make-believe lives and our courtship routines and our sabre rattling and our pretence at being self sufficient. It’s where you see how vital life is.
Today’s skype call was with Irish ceramic artist Kathleen Moroney whose work is concerned with the interaction of space and movement, especially movement you can barely see like the passage of time. She explained how she was inspired by Susan Sontag‘s idea that something is accentuated in the opposite. For example, if something is silent, you can’t help but notice sound and if something is still, you can’t help thinking about movement. In order to explore movement in relation to the whole body, she became involved with dance workshops and learning about Japanese dance theatre called butoh. Her ideas about how dance brings you into a mindful state of being ‘in the moment’ resonated with me because of how I want the work I make to cause the viewer to experience a moment of calm contemplation as if looking out of a window. I was particularly interested about how she spoke of the wheel being the only tool that brings together time, space and movement, and the way working on a kickwheel in particular is so focused on the movement of the body that it’s a kind of performance art. Her spinning tops are an effort to capture that moment just before collapse, the way the clay on the wheel can look still when centred despite spinning at a fast speed.
Kathleen spoke about the importance of being happy in yourself, of feeling ‘centred’ and used the centering of clay as a metaphor. My interpretation is this: when we focus in on ourselves and attain a happiness that can’t be altered by outside events, our energy is focused, whereas if we focus too much outside of ourselves and are not in touch with our own thoughts and motivations, energy is wasted worrying. Kathleen spoke of how for every step we make visible there are hundreds of unseen steps through thought and emotion which lead to an action, so movement begins deep inside us.
She also described the loss of self-consciousness that comes with working in repetition but the paradox of this that when you become used to something, you also stop looking. Which brings me back again to the theme of balance, in life and in art. The forms I have being making recently are an effort to balance form and space, as I remember my old graphic design tutor telling us that the spaces between the words and images are just as important as the words and images themselves. Kathleen explained that in Japanese philosophy (and the wabi sabi aesthetic) empty space is perceived as energy.
I keep stumbling across and finding myself in awe of work by potter Bryan Newman. A graduate of Harrow School of Art, Newman became well-known in the 1960s for his sculptural pots of townscapes and bridges, but I’m more interested in his making process than his illustrative, popular work. I’m fascinated by the way he has perfected assembling pieces that have been thrown on the wheel into whimsical sculptures. I first remember coming across his work in the V&A when we visited in our first week at CSAD last year but didn’t realise at the time how much the piece I saw there would have an impact on me. When looking for inspiration for my centrepiece the sculpture above was a catalyst for my idea development.
There’s something almost mathematical about the way his constructs are made up of mainly circles, cylinders, perimeters, circumferences, funnels and curves. They link in with the article I found in the archive about the ’roundness of things’ and have got me thinking about the symbolism of circles and what they represent. Working on the potter’s wheel you can’t escape that circular spinning motion and even working with clay itself is an endlessly repeating cycle of making, drying, firing, making etc. In my essay before summer I wrote about the philosophy of balance and it’s relation to Japanese ceramics in particular. What more fitting symbol of balance is there than the circle of yin and yang?
I really enjoyed the process of constructing with thrown forms for the L4 centrepiece project and inspired by Newman’s work I want to continue to develop this during the coming year. The quick production of thrown forms and the slow, patient and careful process of joining them together afterwards means two very different sets of pace of working are involved.