Since I don’t mind getting a little dirty, ceramics is the perfect art form for me. I don’t mind being covered from head to toe with splatters of clay. This is often literally the case. When leaving my studio to get a drink from the kitchen, there's a trail of powdered footprints leading to a goop-daubed coffee mug, which is held by my dry, clay-caked hand (FYI, this is in stark contrast to Patrick’s meticulous painting practices).This raw, dirty quality is part of the primordial appeal of working with clay. Its tactile qualities attract kids, amateur hobbyists, fine artists, and people from all other walks of life. Who hasn’t held a malleable ball of clay in their hands and not wanted to make something out of it? We’ve all rolled a lump of clay into a coil and pretended it was a snake (ok, maybe it was Play-doh, but the impulse remains the same). Perhaps it’s a primordial urge to mold vessels like our ancestors made for thousands of years. Perhaps it is a way to reconnect with the earth. Or, maybe it’s just fun.
It’s easy.
It lacks the pretentious restrictions of “high-art” media. Clay is a medium for self-expression that seems to come naturally to everyone, and that is where I find the excitement in it. People are creative beings by nature, and ceramics are an accessible path to expressing that creativity. Who knows what people will create next? What will you create next?
Throughout years of working with clay, I've developed a personal philosophy inspired by its qualities: a loose metaphor for life. Clay is from the earth, and, ultimately, returns to the earth. It can be shaped into infinite forms, but just add water and it returns to its basic state. It will reveal any texture you press into it like a written history. If there is a flaw that is masked while building a piece, it will eventually reveal itself in the final product. It is strong enough to stretch to delicate lengths. However, it has limits and will break, slump, or crumble when pushed beyond them. But, even if that flaw rears its ugly head or the beautiful masterpiece becomes a hideous eyesore, just add water, and start over. Its a lump of clay again, ready to be something new.
In my work, I am deeply influenced by forms in nature. Even when I'm not thinking about it, organic forms take shape; it is just part of my artistic voice. I'm not a fan of rigidity or straight lines, as they so rarely occur in nature.
(All images above are the intellectual property of Sonia Farrand)
Below: a few of my favorite artists with whom I feel an aesthetic affinity
Antoni Gaudi
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
Steven Hill
Salvador Dali
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