So, did I need to kill the little darlings?
(see previous blog)
I ran into Nigel Boonham who is my neighbour where I’m staying and is a really interesting English figurative sculptor (www.boonham.com, he has been here since September carving 2 large pieces in Marble for the Syney Cathedral). I mentioned my problem and he gave me some great advice: That you can listen to others, but in the end you have to trust yourself as sculpture come from in here (tapping chest). When I replied that I was worried that maybe I wasn’t seeing it clearly, he suggested if I wasn’t in a hurry to cover it for a week, then look again. He told me it would talk to me. He said sculptures tell you things.
This reasured me as it meant I had another tool to rely on.
On monday afternoon I went to visit Shelley in her studio. This was fascinating and a real priviledge to see what really seemed like someones inner sanctum. I was slightly jealous and impressed by how zen it was – it was a lovely proportioned room with hight ceilings which felt very close to a cube in proportions. She had 5 sculptures on plinths under a high window with natural light streeming down on to them, and apart from that there were the bare essentials and workbenches for working and some very well organised shelves.
She also seems to have a very clear working method – so like the icon painters, a simple set of rules within which to be free to create. I am the opposite – a horder by nature, my studio (in London) is overflowing with all sorts tools and materials, and everytime I start a new work or project, I will reinvent my materials and working method. I wonder whether this is just a reflection of the stage I am at in my career/creative development, or how much this is also inherent in my nature. I partlly envy people who are very minimal and zen, yet I know it wouldn’t suit me and I would feel an emptyness without my clutter and a fear of unimportance without complexity…
Anyway, back to the little darlings issue, after chatting about various other things and a lovely italian coffee, I went through my photos and sketches and we talked about my piece. I think I was waiting for an epiphany moment, where I would suddenly solve all my problems and see it all clearly – but although interesting, nothing changed. I wonder if we were both a bit too warry to delve in too deep, or maybe I was hoping for too much, but I remained a little unconvinced that there was a better solution that would enhance the piece. And probably rightfully, Shelley didn’t criticise my existing solution harshly enough for me to move my position on it.
That afternoon back in the foundry, I played around with a few of her ideas, and spent a long while looking at my piece in a mirror or in photos… The more I looked at it, the more it all seemed to be one piece now.
I was rather worried about what Helaine would say when she came the next morning – what if she too was unconvinced. I would have to resort to Nigel’s advice on wrapping it up, but I still wanted to get on with the foundry process. In a panic i texted Immanuel to see if he could come by to have a look too – maybe I wanted someone on my side to brave more criticism the next day… However it turned out he had his phone on so only got the message the next day.
The next morning I had my ‘finished piece’ on another turntable, and was busying myself with some new experiments pouring wax into water, and in my nervousness managed to spill almost a whole bowl over the floor. I was just spreading newspaper over the mess (no mop!) when Helaine walked in… She seemed not to notice and I showed her the work… which she loved!
She said the photo really didn’t do it justice, and she loved the way it had curves and added drama to the piece. That it was much better than the ‘original’ idea.
For a moment I wondered whether I should still wrap it up for a week, but hell I couldn’t wait any longer, its now on its way to bronze…
