I argued with my clay today.
No amount of reasoning, prentend-patience or threatening would budge it. The clay just refused to co-operate eventually leading to the fingers randomly falling off the hand I was trying to sculpt. Like any reasonable person I cussed, got a bit red in the face and tried to start again.
After two months away from the studio and away from sculpting it was unquenchable frustration trying to “get back into it”. Even as I returned from a cool-off walk-about around the studio and as hard as I tried the fingers refused to cooperate. The palm steadily became more and more misshapen and the wrist was a mess. I could not believe that two months away from the studio could mess with my connection with the clay so profoundly. And I sulked. I sulked like a two year old.
So after much mumbling and grumpy snorting and huffing I stepped away from my work-space and changed track. After all, sculpture (and particularly ceramic sculpture) isn’t just all about the clay right? Once the clay is hardened and dried it’s bisque-fired which means it’s ready for colour. After the mountain (ok ok molehill) of colour tests I’d done over some 3 months I felt sufficiently prepared to venture towards *actually* finishing a few pieces. (Up until now, I hadn’t finished any work due to the pending colour tests and experiments.)
Anyway, I tackled some of my bisqueware armed with an arsenal of oxides, carbonates and stains. And I must admit, I had fun. I knew what I wanted and how I could best achieve it. I knew the concentration of colour and where to ease up and where to let rip. And I had sufficient faith in the unpredictablity of the final firing process to know that even though the final product is a surprise, it’ll be an “expected” surprise.
And to my delight, the profound sense of dissatisfaction that pervaded my entire being while trying to sculpt the hand dissipated. Swooshing on the colour with my paintbrush, wiping off the residue to reveal the stain - it all proved so deeply satisfying. I fell in love with clay again. I fell in love with the hollow scrape as the bisqueware hits the concrete surface and the way it thirstily sucks up any water dropped on its surface. I love the way the oxide stains the ware leaving you with a sense of anticipation to see what the final colour emerges as from the firing. And most importantly, I fell in love with my ability to fall in love again.
I got home to a WhatsApp from Steph. “Sorry you were dealt a shitty hand today.” So’kay about the hand… I found the heart. :)
