Husking a Pony

Sculpted solid, this guy has to be hollowed out. The only way to do that with him is to cut him in half and scoop out his innards. His position is a bit creepy, I admit, as though he's tucked his forelegs to make room for the blade! Yikes!

Ceramics isn't all about free-spirited creativity, it's about chemistry, too. Everything from the molecular composition of this stuff to how the whole glob behaves during the fire plays an important role in the design and execution of each piece.

In particular, the escape of air and water molecules from the claybody during the fire often lies at the forefront of many ceramists' priorities. At such high "cooking" temperatures, escaping air and moisture can increase the pressure within the rigid claybody, causing the piece to explode in the kiln. And the more vitreous the clay, the greater the danger. 

This is why it's so important to make sure air bubbles aren't present within the clay and that the piece is completely dry, right to the core, before firing. To further mediate these concerns, hand-built pieces like this also need to be slowly fired, to give all the clay components time to gently acclimate to their physical changes. Working in mud incorporates so many variables, that always erring on the side of caution wrestles back a fair amount of predictability.

What does all this mean for Mr. Pony? It means that because I sculpted him solid, he has to be hollowed out, like a chocolate Easter bunny. If I left him solid, it would take months for him to truly dry right to his core, but even then all that inner mass presents a threat of explosion nonetheless. It's just safer to hollow him out, to ensure complete drying and to minimize the possibility of air bubbles busting him into pieces.

The other option would have been to build him around wadded newspaper or similar filler material that would burn out during the fire. However, there are new problems introduced by that method, which really aren't compatible with my way of working. But most of all, I don't want the smoke produced from the burn out to migrate into the house since my kiln is in the garage.

Anyway...onward...I waited until he was rather harder than ideal, so I had to use a hacksaw instead of a wire to cut him in half, but it was easy work regardless (much to my relief). 

Here you can see what a chunk he was! What I like about working solid is that it allows me complete freedom to manhandle the piece, and shape the body exactly as I want to, without worrying about breaking through or distorting a hollow body.

Then using a dull knife and scooping tool, I proceeded to hollow this guy out in about 45 minutes. To be honest, it was enjoyable. There's something satisfying about the process, of sculpting the inside as well as the outside.

 

Mr. Pony "husked out," with a hole on his underside for the escape of hot air. I got the momentary yen to turn him into a whistle, but I'll leave that for another piece.

Hollowing also reduces weight, which will be important for future pieces that are supported by legs. What I think I'll do in the future for those designs is to create a hollowed torso ahead of time, then add the head, neck and legs later, with a pillar on the belly for support. We'll see how that goes!

The joining edges of both sides need to be scored with a tool, dampened with water and then have lots of slip applied. This provides both the "tooth" and the "glue" to piece him back together. Then I squish the two halves back together, and fill the gaps with slip. I carved a little heart into the inside surface of his body, just for kicks. I think I'll do that on all these hand-built pieces.

Here he is, rejoined together and hollow. He also sports his roughed-out mane.

Once I get his mane done, all his little details finished and him completely smoothed out, I can attach the "tube"...

 

 A kitchen gadget doubles as a tube-maker! I wedged some of the scraps and ran the blob through "Derby," my slab roller. When the piece is drier, I can shape it and clean it up. I may even do a bit of decorative carving if I feel inclined.

I'm having such a great time creating this guy! I hope to have him finished by tomorrow, so he can just sit and dry for about three weeks while to move onto other waiting projects. I'll fire him first to see if he survives, and if he does I'm going to start another! If he doesn't, I will have learned what not to do for the next piece.

"You can count how many seeds are in the apple, but not how many apples are in the seed." ~ Ken Kesey

Husking a Pony

I Am In True Love

 

For those of you who know horses, that familiar "upper lipping" horses do adds moment to this piece.

If you've been following my Facebook studio page, you're familiar with a new project I've spontaneously undertaken. And I say "spontaneously" in the purest sense of the word. I've never done anything like this before and took off on a whim, spurred by a moment's inspiration. In this unthinking act, I found true love in the creative process.

But let me backtrack a bit...a couple of years ago, two dear friends conceived of a new show format that was, well, wonderful and revolutionary. I'm a sucker for clever minds conspiring for a happier future, so of course I was in full support! The focus of this event, BOYCC, is the ceramic expression of the equine, an art form right up my alley.

Subsequently, last year I was asked to create pieces for the "swag bag" given to each paid entrant. After much thought, I decided on a special custom hanging tile (which I'll document in coming weeks).

More interestingly, however, I was invited to create a table centerpiece for one of the sit-down meals. This took a lot of cogitation, but either concepts ended up sidelined, or left for other projects. I was starting to sweat, since BOYCC is just over one month away. But the Universe has a way of quietly leading us in the right direction, and boy...did that vast, star-studded expanse hit pay dirt this time! 

To set it up for you, I can trace three things that lined up like runway lights to point me in the right direction (funny how the mind and muse work). First, I've been working on goofy little sculptures for a friend over the past month, which I'll unveil in due time. Second is the process of "claybody customizing" in which a slip-cast clay piece is altered while the clay is wet, fresh greenware. And third is the work of Susan Leyland, of which I greatly admire.

So on Tuesday, there I sat in my ceramic studio becoming increasingly irritated with myself for not having a workable idea, let alone inspiration, for the centerpiece. Cue big sigh and eye roll...add self-loathing. Then my eyes slipped over to the bucket of leftover earthenware clay from tile pressing...and kerPOW! It hit me. Like my creative life flashing before me. Not only was the idea fully formed in my head, but all the possibilities it introduced flooded my sensibilities.

And when I say my "creative life flashing before me," I mean it literally. Not to be melodramatic (OK, so I am here, but what the heck), it was as though some part of my aesthetic died instantly and another was reborn in its place. I sit here now utterly flabbergasted at this new vision teeming inside my mind. Why had this not occurred to me before? Perhaps I didn't feel ready. Maybe I was a little to cautious. Probably I was too creatively narrow-minded. And it could be that all things come in their own time, even art.

And believe me when I tell you it's time because what has erupted before my eyes, seemingly without effort, has been this quirky pony, a one-of-a-kind original in earthenware clay. He's going to be a vase, with a "tube" of clay beside him to hold flowers, lollipops, pens, or what-have-you.

Here he is, roughed out. Ceramic clay is so accommodating, it took me only two and a half hours to get to this point. And trust me when I tell you those hours felt like minutes.

The feel of the wet, pure clay and how it flows and reacts to my fingers is nothing short of pure love. There truly is no other sculpting medium like it. I've used just about all kinds of clay - epoxy, waxy clay, metal clay, oil clay, baked clay, polymer clay and paper clay - and nothing compares to this. It's magical. How could something so simple, essentially just dirt and water, be so exquisitely perfect for sculpting? This wondrous stuff and my heart are singing in unison as my fingers shape this earthy delight.
  

One thing that's needed by the bucketful is thick, pasty slip to glue all the pieces of the growing sculpture together. But you have to use slip made from the very same clay you're sculpting in; otherwise the whole thing could bust apart in the fire. The solution? Store all your clay shavings and leftover bits in a way that keeps them damp. Then take a handy hand mixer, add water and whip up your own dollops of suitably compatible slip! If you let this dry more, you also later end up with clumps of usable clay for sculpting, or slab rolling.

What also has been particularly enjoyable is the sharp departure this pony represents to my usual work, not only in approach but in concept. Here we have a realistically sculpted pony, but doing something rather, well, unlikely at best - sitting truly upright and "lipping" his knees. This blend of whimsy and realism has ignited a creative atomic bomb in my head, and now my mind is bursting with all sorts of fun or stylized ideas to express through this new modus operandi. Hey, I've been creating realism for over twenty years, so why not venture into new aspects of applying it? This media uniquely allows me to do just that because it responds to the creative moment far better than any other sculpting media I've used. It's easy, fun, quick, cooperative and organic.

So the ease with which this little guy has materialized has been eerie. I've only had to refer to reference photos once (for the hind legs), but overall this piece has almost entirely been created from memory. My hands are simply following what the clay asks me to do. How is this possible? Am I not sculpting him? Or is he? Is the clay? Something else?

Another view of this fellow a little further along in the sculpting process. This clay is responsive in a way no other media is, allowing even the subtlest flicks of the tool or finger to capture a feature in perfect intensity. Yet at the same time, building up bulk and shaping the big ideas couldn't be easier! When I'm satisfied completely with the "tooling" process, I'll use a soft paint brush and water to smooth the surface.

Thanks to this pugnacious fellow, I've found a new way to create work, and I'm completely obsessed with making more. The thought of creating originals, quickly and fluidly, is exciting beyond belief! So over the next few blog posts, I'll walk you through the rest of his creation because I'm definitely learning as I go. 

Ultimately, though, it's not up to me. The pony has to survive Big Al (my kiln). Will he come through the bisque fire in pristine condition, or will he explode into a pile of spectacular bits? The Universe will decide. Such is the nature of clay.

But you can bet that I'll be elbow deep in ceramic clay, creating one-of-a-kind originals either for auction, or sale in my Etsy store. No realistic finishes either. Only art glaze or oxides to accentuate the sculpture and the media. This is my new path. A million thank yous, Universe!

"Art got its start

as a thumbprint

in the mud."

~ Bob Brendle

I Am In True Love

Melancholy Me

 

A common sight in Idaho - a row of Harleys.

2011 has started off on a somber note here in the studio. A year that promised so much rebirth and revitalization has instead morphed into one of unease and reflection. 

In keeping with this unexpected mood, the Boise spring has taken on a mix of Seattle and Canadian weather. But I'm not complaining. I love overcast weather. My fair, sensitive skin really needs the soothing blanket of "Mother Ireland" rather than the arid deserts of Idaho. And while I adore the warmth of the sweet sun, I recoil in its rays. Its blaze turns me into a lobster, only without the fun bits like eyeballs on stalks, antennae and lots of little legs.

To me the misty, bleak atmosphere of an overcast day seems more honest than the garish sun blazing in a blue sky, and kinder than the bite of a winter's cold. It cloaks the valley in a forlorn grey -- a little mournful, a little mysterious, perhaps reminding us of regrets while at the same time offering hope. It's bittersweet, like life.

But if I tire of the hazy day...hey, our weather motto in Idaho is "wait ten minutes." Keeps things interesting. I don't think I could ever go back to the 365 days of nice California weather. Something about the seasons and mercurial weather here in Idaho feeds my creativity. It reminds me of the passage of time and how fleeting each moment really is. It asks me not to take a day for granted.

So last week, when we had a rare patch of sun in late afternoon, we hopped on the Harley to enjoy it. We took a nice leisurely ride to Idaho City and stopped at the Kodiak Grill for dinner. Of course other riders were out in force, too! As we left the restaurant, I snapped that photo (top) of the row of Harleys whose riders had the same idea we did. Enjoy the moment while you have it.

A north view of Lucky Peak Reservoir, coming home after dinner on an early overcast evening.

In that vein, I apologize for being remiss posting to this blog lately. Yet so much has happened in the last two months that have reminded me quite a bit about time lately.

One big reminder was a terrible accident with my father early March. He's alright (praise be!), but his situation has now changed all our lives. The years quietly take their toll on all of us. If we aren't careful, the sound of our life's clock is that of a ticking time bomb. The second reminder has been the diagnosis of Stage III cancer in a dear friend, seemingly out of the blue. So young and so vibrant! How could this be? Sneaky time, unfairly ticking out consequence right under our noses. The good news is she's doing just fine in treatment...something wonderful to cling to!

I'm still reeling from the shock of these two events, still trying to process them. Never forget how fragile and precious our lives truly are. Cherish each moment and each other.

Preparing my taxes also took me for a loop this year. How did April come so fast? We're nearly through the first quarter of 2011 and I've been, quite literally, totally taken by surprise. So many projects have consumed my attention that I just didn't pay attention to the days flying off the calendar. And still so many projects yet to be done! How will I find the time? Bitter irony. Note to self.

Another reminder is the countdown to the end of my hubby's temp job, which is coming quickly and we must be prepared. Yet with all that's come down lately, it's hard to get the creative gears going full bore again. I'm in a strange place of time stopped and simultaneously sped up.

Luckily the healing magic of mud has proven to be a welcome grease, so look for brand new tiles in my Etsy store soon, and perhaps with some new whimsical and unexpected additions, too. The smiley faces created in a special project have been a needed balm to my heavy heart.

It's no surprise then that PJ Harvey's new album Let England Shake has been an obsession of mine since I got it yesterday. It's been on a loop. Serendipitously, this album is in sync to my mood, fitting like a glove on my vexed soul. Only Harvey can create such singular, haunting, disturbing and yet enchanting music that gets inside your soul and lives there forever.

Here's a sneak peek of Dante, the Murgese stallion, with a headless Alfred in the background. Both are 1:24th scale. I'm eager to get back into the studio to finish these two patient fellows. 

So while treading despondency, I'm determined to channel my gleeful passions into my work. This year they will be vessels for my joy, embodiments of my defiance of time and all the sorrow and certainty it brings. Let them be a revelry of life, to carve my line in the sand in mockery of mortality.

"The soul would  have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears." ~Native American saying

Melancholy Me