Tyranny: A Theory of Nice

VERY LARGE Narrative Art Sculpture. Most of my career was spent in oil painting, until clay grabbed a hold of me and wouldn't let go... Now I paint with glass on clay.. by applying layers of glaze  in several repeat glaze fires .. a depth of color, crystal formation and texture is built up  that just makes my heart sing to look at it...

Narrative

Shard Piles ... Every clay artist must have one in their yard…the burial ground for the detritus of failed struggles to inspire mere  mud with  the strength of soul to stand tall and be transformed.  It takes three years and at least three steps for one of my battle worn pieces to make it to the shard pile.  In my ornery soul,  hope springs eternal.  Somehow,  someway,  I hope that the little bit of the spirit that my hands infused into that mud  will not flee.  ..that it might be somehow, someway... redeemed.  Case in point:  this sculpture "A Tyranny a Theory of Nice”. It began with the simple cliched idea of a jester coming out of a Jack in the Box.  Alas,  the Jester emerged from  the second fire... glaze ugly. STEP ONE : to the shard pile... shove  it to the back of the studio;  A year later, SECOND ATTEMPT at redemption: coat it with  epoxy resin and bronze dust and then patina that with chemicals ( I teach a workshop i on this surface treatment.)  OK,  ugly glaze redeemed!  But, somewhere,  someway in its vanquished year,   I have lost all interest in building a   clay box for it to spring from. I’ve moved on to grander ideas. Bereft of an idea, it gets STEP TWO  to the shard Pile: put it in the studio yard,... first to a table...need the table ...so throw it on the ground... Years go by before it finds a new idea... THIRD ATTEMPT at redemption: while working on a large new  piece in the studio., the Muse whispers, "You know that piece in the yard  wouldn’t it be good on top of that gumball piece…"  REDEMPTION:  saved from the final step  to the shard pile...  Now it stands tall  and atop a gumball machine..atop a big thumb arm, atop a forlorn sheep..... On to glory, big shows , little shows, even a prize.  And a big collector calls wants to buy it,  but balks at my price.  I started to tell of its three  year saga ,  but he interrupts and suggests that as an artist I must not be very prolific... He takes offense at my chuckle, and quickly leaves me holding a silent  phone. Sometimes the thoughts  come: “Shoulda  just sold it,”  "Probably woulda if he hadn't been so rude”  “Was my chuckle rude?”  "It woulda had  prestige in such a big collection”  ...But then I think that for a sculpture to end up in a of a collection as a mere result of that collector's bargaining prowess?"  "Another kind of shard pile?"  "Does a sculpture  that endured so much mistreatment at my hands, really deserve that?" Homes not collections… That is what I want for these pieces of clay inspired by the Muse to stand tall..transformed from mere mud..  That is our human story isn't It?  We, transformed from mere mud...