I’m throwing in porcelain for the first time. It’s getting easier with practice. At first I found it difficult to knead when it came from the bag but it softens up as you work it. Centering on the wheel is a challenge as it likes to come off, but perhaps this is also because I’m throwing with minimal water. Porcelain is a thirsty clay but using too much water will make it difficult to control so I’ve resorted to throwing with slip instead. I love the tones of light and dark created through these distorted inside forms but how well the light plays on them depends lots on the environment where they’re displayed.
Nick is going to create a plaster mould which we can sit these in and pour porcelain casting slip into to sit them in flat slabs. I found it more difficult to get expressive throwing rings in porcelain so had to use a stick to push them out. Unlike the stoneware bulging and rippling the porcelain wants to hold its form or just collapse completely, there is no middle ground.
Above are the results of our discussion with ideas for constructing a kind of porcelain igloo or box which you could go inside (or at least put your head inside). We talked about how sound might be distorted as it moves through the twisted vessel forms and how we could use boxed like the one above as bricks to construct a wall you look through. We recorded the discussions so I hope to upload those here soon.
I identified last week that the spaces I wanted to consider in more depth were the tiny windows in the buildings at St Fagans. These are frames that reveal, to a limited extent inside and outside space. As I want to explore the throwing process further I decided to explore the inside of thrown forms. Carrying on from throwing tall, narrow jug forms the first week back, I threw some similar shapes but pushed them to the point where I nearly lost control of the clay’s direction so it bulges. These are thrown in White St Thomas – the photographs below showing the expressive folding landscapes on the inside.
Nick and I have decided to work collaboratively on this project since we’re interested in exploring similar ideas around optical illusion (e.g. tones of shadow and light created by the form itself and throwing lines), changing perception of objects by subverting the ordinary vessel (such as displaying them horizontally on a wall or from above) and challenging how we engage with an artwork. The aim is to make ceramic objects that encourage people to think about their physical placement in relation to the artwork. By creating frames and tunnels for the audience to look through or into, they will have to move around in a kind of ‘dance’ with the object, getting closer to peer inside and explore this interior space from different angles. In a tutorial with Natasha on Tuesday she suggested thinking of the concept of mindfulness and the pace with which we engage with objects. How can a ceramic artwork make the viewer more mindful? Perhaps having the eye follow the spiral of the throwing wheel into the artwork, like an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole, they can be made to slow down the pace at which they’re gazing over the artwork’s surface.
Below are some rough sketches of my initial ideas, thinking about how a collection of these thrown forms can be brought together in a larger sculpture that can be looked through or into…
To keep away the Wednesday blues I decided to work from my recent train doodles, enlarging them and working into the drawings with pastels, oil pastels, gouache and marker pen. Perhaps the next step is, how do I transform these drawings into three dimensional objects?
These two still life compositions were inspired by seeing Chloe Peytermann’s ‘atolls’ at Collect earlier this year. I layered coloured slips and leftover glazes thickly on top which created bubbling, marbled surface colours. The thrown bottle forms on top reference vessels but are not containers in themselves. I’d like to make similar compositions in porcelain with bottles on top referencing the cheeky ‘wonky wine bottles’ illustrations I did for Dylanwad Da’s recipe book a few years ago.
The bottles in my drawings below look a bit like little people, crowds gathered together in conversation on floating ceramic icebergs. I like the idea of playing with function – although the small bottles might be able to be used, they will be secured together to a base which makes them impractical. The upside down thrown forms act as plinths or tables on top of which other objects can be displayed.
I collected together these 10 images as a starting point for thinking about this year’s final project – a centrepiece for a table.
Since we’ve just returned from a week in France, I immediately began thinking of how sharing meals around the dining table there each night bought us together as a ceramics family. Nearly every evening meal was followed by games around the table, especially ‘Werewolves’ – could the centrepiece incorporate a game in some way? Perhaps the narrative of the game ‘Werewolves’ could be displayed or the object could hold a pack of cards… This first photo was taken using the Theta S app and a 360 degree camera. Depending on where you sit at the table, the centrepiece will appear slightly different; perhaps I could play with optical illusion.
I found this piece by Ian Godfrey when we visited the ceramics collection at the V&A and love the little quirky drawers that remind me of an advent calendar. Fortune cookies or cards could be held in the drawers of my centrepiece for dinner guests so it becomes interactive. Maybe the drawers could be filled with unusual objects and after each meal the guests are challenged to pick some at random and make a story up about them. I want my centrepiece to be fun.
Kerplunk – I remember this game from my childhood. Could it be made in clay? The sticks and marbles could be slipcast…
After looking at Lisa Krigel’s work I’ve been keen to explore how thrown forms can stack, which could be another possible starting point. I’ve been in the kitchen photographing our dirty dishes and the asymmetrical compositions that can be made with these everyday objects are pretty exciting. Could I make a beautiful object inspired by these items in their dirty, rejected state? The cycle that kitchen utensils go through could be something to explore – they are used, become dirty, then washed and cleaned again to be used. You would never find dirty pans on display in the centre of a table at the start of a meal, so the idea of a beautiful centrepiece inspired by them seems fun. I like the small details like the lip in the glass measuring jug in the photos. As a starting point for the project I plan to see what other compositions I can make in the kitchen and sketch them from different angles.
I want to develop my throwing skills during this project but am particularly interested in artists who use the wheel in unconventional ways. The artists above have hand constructed thrown sections to make flowing sculptures that demonstrate the circular motion of the wheel.
I love Gareth Mason’s expressive use of glazes. Another potter who throws but distorts the thrown form. Abstract surfaces really show off the material qualities of clay and glaze and the gold might hark back to the opulence of antique centrepieces. I could get lost in the rich texture and abstract landscape of a centrepiece with this kind of surface for a long time.
Could my centrepiece be a kiln? I was disappointed we didn’t get to fire our kilns in France but with more time I would have designed and built a more complex design. Objects could be fired inside then attached on in some way so they become part if the finished piece. The process and result then become one and could serve as a conversation sparker at the dinner table.
Last week’s constellation day on Thursday we took to Llandaff fields, braving the raging Storm Doris and the threat of rain to create indexical drawings. Indexical drawings record that something has happened and document the activity involved rather than being ‘icons’- resembling the thing they are drawings of or being conventional symbols like music notation. It could be argued a piece of sheet music is a drawing of music but we know it has no relation to the way we experience music, it is just symbolic.
The road to the park was scattered with broken branches, victims of the storm the night before and the trees above us swayed precariously. However, we decided to use the blustery weather to our advantage, harnessing the power of the wind to create a drawing that would be impossible to capture on a clam day. Our group of four gathered together our tools – some old violin strings to tie things together, brightly coloured sharpies to draw with and sketchbooks to draw on. We were attracted to the movement of the trees swaying but how could we capture this energy and activity when the branches were meters above us? In one corner of the field we spotted a sapling, about four feet tall and decided to use this tree for our exercise. We tied a couple of marker pens to a swinging branch, held a sheet of paper underneath then let nature do its work.
The image below shows the results of the branch’s movement over 10 minutes. As the wind blew the plant, the sharpies swayed over the paper in a random pattern, stopping and starting, tapping here and there then sweeping over in long calligraphic lines like a miniature Jackson Pollock. What is the result? A collaboration between uncontrollable natural forces and human intervention? A drawing of what wind looks like?
Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson made a fascinating series of kinetic drawings called ‘Connecting cross country with a line’ (2013) in which a drawing machine drew’journeys’ between train stations. An ink coated ball rolled around a sheet of paper, documenting the topography of the country as the train winded and juddered. The varying darkness of lines as the ink runs out is beautiful.
The randomness of line quality in both our work and Eliasson’s reminded me of a workshop I took part in a few years ago with artist Zoe Robertson. We set off machines that vibrated, filled with felt pens onto a sheet of paper and they created abstract patterns of coloured lines, pooling where the robots got stuck and forming dotted, tentative lines where the pens weren’t laid flat.
These unconventional methods of drawing are exciting and I like their move away from dependence on human agency to create them. I think it’s the same reason I like the unexpected results of raku and saggar firing. The lack of control makes the outcome feel like more of a collaboration between myself and the forces of nature rather than forcing materials to my will.