My journey in ceramics, which started over 10 years ago, was driven by the idea of making beautiful, functional pots. For me, symmetrical round forms emerging from the potter’s wheel was a sight to behold. It was an overwhelming feeling to be able to create something that had a sense of purpose, functionality and sometimes basic daily use. Mugs one could drink from, bowls that held food, or jugs that poured water.
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Over the next few years, I felt the urge to demand more of my work. As the skills improved, the pots started to look more ‘finished’, functional and pleasing to the eye. But in an effort to fill the pots with beauty and purpose, I also found them to be lacking in many ways. The same works that seemed so satisfying just some time ago, now felt incomplete. They appeared to be lifeless, still objects which have been well masked to look attractive. Pots that emerged from the wheel through my hands seemed more like machine-made ‘products’ and less of an imagination of inspired work.
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‘Metamorphosis’, the works I created for my group show in 2013, was a result of this dissatisfaction with clay - an unresolved quest to create familiar functional clay forms that were also craving for a voice. Here, functional looking pots were layered with coils of clay that seemed to emerge from the body of the clay itself. As if the pots are literally ‘morphing’ into life.
It is a great feeling to arrive at this moment of truth – to see clay more than just ‘clay body’, but a medium that is alive, breathing and living. But as artists, one only captures a still glimpse of its versatility. Like a photograph, that only frames a moment within the timeless continuum. This points to the dichotomy for variety of art practices and underscores the enormity of the challenge – to make still objects tell a moving tale.
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‘Undulations…’, my first solo show in ceramics, takes my endeavor forward in this direction. To liberate both imagination and the medium of its underlying sense of stillness. To continuously provoke one another and find a fresh story to tell in our work. One can take inspiration from the ‘invisible’ life present in both the living and the so-called ‘non-living’. One can argue ‘Non-living’ is only a scientific term with a narrow point of reference. The non-living creations of Nature are surely in a motionless state but not without an undeniable sense of life. The earths’ geology for example, continuously alters face of continents, mountains and courses of rivers, in a painfully sluggish yet brutally impactful pace. We humans, being just a flash in the geological life span, notice only a glimpse of its existence and therefore assume it to be lifeless. This invisible life leaves its irrefutable signature on the objects it touches. Its expression has voice and physicality. It speaks of a journey, of a definitive past and an imaginable future.
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There is another strong imprint of Nature, its unique yet undefined character. Unlike machine-made objects, which leave an unambiguous imprint of their own. Like having well defined specs that lead to a series of replicas of themselves. But Nature operates in the realm of reality, where there is no concept of strict perfections. There are no straight lines, perfect circles or immaculate smooth surfaces in the Nature's tool kit. It reproduces but does not replicate. It expresses in similarities rather than in sameness. It computes in probabilities rather than in definite measurements. It speaks to each one of us differently, thereby invoking a different reaction in return.
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The works in this show are intended to reflect this inspiration from nature. To create a series that is alive and conversing. It should tell a new and different story to every viewer and inspire them to discover one of their own. As a multidimensional medium, there is play with its surface texture, form, and colours to invoke a sense of movement and hopefully intrigue. What appears inert and motionless from a distance is meant to offer a new perspective from close quarters.
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Artists sometimes interact with their works as a viewer as well. On viewing my works from the other side I feel lot more critical and believe much is desired. But being discontented with one’s own works is a good thing. What is important is to be on a path that is fulfilling and invigorating. I feel much at ease to realize that instead of a destination, I see multiple paths unfurl from here as a fascinating extension of this work. Each one, as tempting and enticing as the other.