April showers? That's an understatement! I know we need the rain, but this is excessive. Still, while the storms are rubbish for business they have meant that my last week's sculpture course could be enjoyed guilt free.
Following on from my first foray into sculpting after twenty years, last November, I was keen to explore further. I duly enrolled in a second course with the lovely tutor I had worked with previously. Sculpting The Head - an Anatomical Approach. Fun! Despite my years as a sculpture student, I had studiously avoided heads. More interested in the body...by the time I reached the head I had lost interest...okay, I was too scared to ruin what I'd already created with a dodgy fizog. So, a challenge!
I decided that it would be a good idea to sculpt Chris - my theory being that if it wasn't very good after 3 days at college then I could continue at home & hopefully improve, with my model at hand (or should that be head?) And if I was going to tackle a head then I ought to know how they were put together - hence the anatomy. Now I'm a conscientious student and took the time before my class to study the skeleton & musculature of the human head - no easy feat (mainly due to the tedium, which had me nodding off frequently). I also had the help of a wonderful book written by Edouard Lanteri, who taught Rodin, no less. The instructions were comprehensive, the latin names incomprehensible, and the photographs of his own work dauntingly impressive. No pressure then!
By the evening of our first tutorial I had nearly persuaded myself that I wasn't going - especially after the emotional roller coaster of my last class. But, armed with a huge bottle of Rescue Remedy and the thought of £300 wasted, I plunged in...and relaxed.
The first day was spent without live models. Instead we each had a polystyrene skull to copy. Armed with callipers we measured & moulded the clay - a class full of silent Shakespearean actors. Alas poor Yorick. By home time we had added muscles to the bone to create grotesque flayed heads - nice!
The second day dawned - nervous again. How will Chris fit into this intensely studious atmosphere? How do I feel about sharing my precious creative space? How will I do justice in clay to the man I love? Argh! Oh get over yourself Laura. Deep breath, more Rescue Remedy, relax. And we did. The atmosphere with models in place changed completely. Now we students shared a common goal. And with Chris in the room, curious & unafraid & enthusiastic, soon we were all talking and sharing our aims and fears and the story of our lives.
One model between 9 students placed in the centre of the room is harder to work from than one to myself. I felt lucky to have mine so close at hand, and lucky to have one I know so well. As I poked and prodded, shoved callipers up his nose & twirled him around on his chair, Chris sat patiently enjoying the new environment & chatting away happily.
Instead of being scared I was elated. The feel of the clay in my hands, with measurements to guide me and familiar features to capture, I was in my element. And after two days of concentration & several delicious free lunches, I was beginning to see my hubby's head appear before me.
So far so good. Getting the head home was the next trick. Most of the students had opted to leave their pieces for firing in the college kiln. This involved the scary process of removing the top of the head, lifting it off the armature & hollowing out, then sticking the head back with clay slip - like a Victoria sponge - very nerve wracking. I paid attention & then packed my sculpture into a discarded computer box & took it home.
Three days later I decided that it was time to operate. It took several hours of prevarication, another half bottle of Rescue Remedy and a kick in the pants from Chris before I plucked up the courage to act. With my hubby's practical brain & brute strength we executed the decisive move. If the clay was still too soft it might collapse, too hard and it might be impossible to hollow. Argh!
Success, of a sort. In order to fire without distortion, the sculpture should be evenly hollowed throughout. My hollowing was more nursery school than Ming vase - oops. Too late now. Ah but that's kind of the appeal of clay. It is the most amenable of mediums to work in - allowing you to squish & smooth, thwack & contort, carve & scrape. But until it is fired it is fragile and, fired wrongly, it's toast. A lesson in the impermanence of everything, me thinks.
Chris, my greatest champion, has decided that I should forge a new career in portrait commissions. Me, I'm a little more circumspect...okay, scared. I loved the experience, loved the challenge of capturing a likeness, working the clay within more formal parameters. But maybe it was a fluke? Can I do it again?
Well I'm going to try. The college don't recycle their used clay. So, being Scottish, I decided that I would. I now have bags of it at home. I've added water and done a fair bit of squidging, ready to use once more. And my next project is going to be a self portrait. Again, having my head at hand should be an advantage. Not being able to see it in front of me will be challenging, but I can feel it, use photographs and look in the mirror (remembering to reverse whatever I see). I'll keep you posted.
Wish me luck!
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