Amphitrite: Making of

I finally got my hands on paper and paint colours. The concept of the collection of sculpture was pretty clear in my head, but without some sketches it was hard for me to visualize the accurate forms. My favourite tools are a gray pencil and watercolors whose blurred stains give a drawing volume and unfinished look.

The sculptures would express feminine sensuality through the features of a blooming flora.

And yes, they were structured but yet abstract shapes. The form is organic, simple, easy to read but at the same time carrying its own secret.

The next step was for me to decide on the scale of the piece. I have always privileged large formats. But by extending the scale, I shifted the story from a woman to a goddess!

All right, let it be. But the big size in ceramics brings some technical difficulties and I have to:

a. Ensure that the sculpture would fit in the kiln for the first firing (it will be easier later: the clay would shrink),

b. Choose a stoneware that would fire at 1260°C three-four times without any shape distortion glaze crazing, and finally

c. Anticipate the weight of the sculpture; indeed, big ceramic sculptures can quickly become very heavy to work with.

And here I am finishing the top of the form. To save time, I prepared a plaster mould which would help me produce bowls to be placed on the top of the three necks. But it didn't work. These bowls being too heavy for the necks, they started to crush the poor necks with their weight! I barely had time to catch the fainting goddess. A little more and I would have had to rebuild the whole piece. Lesson learnt: do not be in hurry with clay. And I spent another four days drying, finishing, drying again, smoothening the surface of the giant flower bud.

When I opened the kiln after the first low-temperature firing, I was pleased to notice that the shape became slimmer, suiting to the elegance of an exotic flower bud. That's great! One third of the way is done.

Now glazing - the main stage of creation. Both scary and exciting!

Obviously, I tested a bunch of nice playful glazes beforehand: yellows, ochre, greens, meadowsweet, malachite, dark turquoise, blue and navy blue tones. I had to test them alone and overlaid with other glazes, at different temperatures, to see how they react with the clay and with each other.

Only then I could glaze the goddess. I reserved space for each glaze; 15 in total. I precisely followed the colour plan I prepared. Which hue and which texture would go together. I already fired twice at a high temperature and was impatient to open the kiln to see the final result.

I still had to wait for the kiln temperature to drop to 60-70°C: I really wanted to avoid temperature shock.

TADA! I opened the kiln. But what's wrong? I was sooooo disappointed with colours, drip shapes and texture. Not everywhere: some parts of the sculpture pleasantly exceeded my expectations. But all in all I was expecting a Flora goddess coming from the kiln, not a sea monster. I was frustrated of course. I left the studio and my irreverent Poseidon which looked so lonely but majestically in the middle of my desk.

I returned the next day to examine the sculpture in detail. I had strictly forbidden myself to compare it with my initial expectations. I looked at it as if I was seeing it for the first time. I suddenly began to notice how beautifully the many glazes blended together to form new, very interesting colours and textures. After getting to know the piece well with eyes and fingertips, I realised that I was facing a beautiful sea creature; I had only to correct two glazes.

Indeed, after the fourth and final firing, Amphitrite appeared to me, holding - as I had originally intended - the secret that she reveals only to those who come to get to know her closer. I agree that Amphitrite is not Flora. But life always makes its adjustments, and the clay, the glaze and the kiln make their own.