Julia Beyer: archiv

Spirals appear in all sorts of variations in the ceramics and paintings of Sandy Brown. They radiate simultaneously movement and calmness and from my point of view, nothing could represent Sandys life and personality better than this rhythmical circulating that seems to know no end and no beginning. The circle doesn't finish, it goes on, builds upon past without repetition but the only obvious continuation, something new and special. "I'm coming back, maybe back to the beginning but it feels different, it is different." The source is as obvious as pointing and for Sandy it lies in her 4-year residence in Japan. At about the same age as she was when she discovered - as she says "by accident" - clay and ceramics for herself, I was driven to the South West of England, to Appledore, to Sandy Brown. Certainly more conciously and more deliberately but probably with a similar curiosity and open mind for changes and new impulses.

Sandy has preserved for herself this kind of candour, imagination and feeling for adventure throughout her life and is eager to share it. Her art and her daily life are interwoven in a way I never experienced with any other ceramicist. Her dishes reflect her pleasure in serving food as it ought to be served and enjoyed, and in the same way in which she creates her pots uniqually and freshly over and over again, in the same way she cooks. It is an open and warm house, the upper floor overlooks the estatuary and the rhythms of the tide as immidiately as from a ship.

Her experiences and impressions from Japan are still vivid and immediate. Not only in the lively anecdotes but the more in her daily life and her relationship with clay and colour. The whole creative process is characterized by an easy playfulness, calmness and fun. Like a central idea occurs Hamadas word which she not just quotes but lives: dealing with clay should feel like walking downhill with a soft breeze, on a mellow summers day. I feel her hand in that picture, not to be guarded or directed but to be encouraged and confirmed.

And this atmosphere was both a prerequisite and potential for an eight months walk of that kind. You could as well literally go for walks in the former glove factory that was transformed, 3 years ago, into Sandy's studio. It is only a few steps away from her house but though it is another world. Three large and bright rooms, not only the light from above reminds of a greenhouse. Time and again while I was staying there this image came to my mind, and indeed, it is a greenhouse. Ideas fall on fertile ground, protected and supported by an ideal climate, imagination, possibilities and the own belief in them are growing.

And plants were the inspiration for the first pieces I did there. The orchids and banana trees growing in the conservatory of Sandys house and the literally time-lapse growing of clay on the wheel led to funnel-like forms that still appear movable, even when dried. I let thin strips entwine around them which gives them a dancing character.

Adopted ideas of aesthetics and "right" or "wrong" are very soon shaken when you watch Sandy working on the wheel, or with clay in general. At first glance it seems inattentive, careless or even violent, though it is characterized by a deep understanding of the material, for natural forms and an exclusively organic energy. If you hold her pots in your hands, you feel the fired clay both soft and firm, like a handshake. Of all senses they most of all touch the haptical sense and what could be more important for pots, made for daily use, in spite of or even because of their creative freedom. And so I went back to "dishes", an underestimated subject I used to value less. I came back because of a prevailing wish to be able to use my ceramics as well as looking at them. The handle-like strips entwining themselves around the earlier forms became some kind of obsession, curling around plates, platters, goblets bowls and lidded forms in all sorts of forms and extents. Wether as handles, feet or just for decorative purposes, I was fascinated with that soft, malleable and moveable character that clay preserves, even after the firing, when it is treated right.

I love to hear Sandy talking about her work. It contains so much confidence, certainty and conviction and I feel winged just listening to her. She describes the creative process as something very vulnerable and fragile, like arranging feathers. The sudden opening of a door, a draft or a comment of an observer could destroy everything.

This knowledge and understanding of the requirements in creating makes working with her precious and fundamental. With almost therapeutic ambition and even more generosity she inspires above all to one thing: Letting go. Letting go of expectations in final results, expectations in yourself and expectations of possible customers. Conversation about the work is essential, there is no "No" any longer, just a "Yes, and also..." It is adding and filtering of the positive aspects and not focussing on possible deficiencies.

We are doing exercises like "30 animals in 30 minutes" or "30 sketches in 30 minutes" which are leading - besides being a lot of fun - to new ideas and insights. The limit of time and demands a reduction to essentials; the source of the very own creativity becomes visible and offers new possibilities. Many of Sandys own pieces - both dishes and sculptural forms - are results or products of these clay sketches. Some of them with an almost sculptural character, link her dishes with the "standing forms". The overwhelming presence of these slab built forms is emphasised with energetic and vibrant decor. Irrevocable they are, clear-cut and sustained but never noisy or obstrusive. The more fragile my strips appear.

I have been making hundreds of strips, just strips, according to Sandy's suggestion and to find out where this obsession will lead. In the first place they curled and entwined within themselves and the most beautiful imagination was to let sun and light shine through; to make a window piece or a whole wall out of it. White and light; light but stable enough to hold everything together. Fed up with all these curls and whirls I came back to the strips themselves, putting them over coils or foam. They build irregular woven banks and I imagine canapés or sushi on them.

Our ceramic relationship was like an exchange, Sandy helped me and I helped her and very often I couldn't work out the difference. I made some of her almost classic forms for her, plates, platters, lasagne dishes which even in the way of creating show Sandys unique marks. Uncomplicated, honest and simple; a slab-roller, two cloths and free drawn cardboard templates are enough to work with, "no fuss". That offers countless possibilities and inspiration - for my own work.

Her ceramics sometimes seem like canvasses for her decorations. The brush box is full of tufty, bristly, odd treasures and of course Sandy could tell you the purpose and importance of every single one. Observing her decorating makes their function and peculiarity obvious. As well as the colours she uses, they all have their individual characters, Sandy knows them and challenges them again and again. Challenge, inspiration in the best way, I feel carried away, invited to play along and to climb over the fence. Brushes and colours make movements visible, "the colour is thrown and the pot catches it". I enjoy using the trailer, it reacts more immediately to the hands than the brush.

You hardly dare to breathe when Sandy is decorating. It is a dance with an invisible partner, demontrative, self-confident but intimate and vulnerable at the same time. The greatest difficulty seems to be not to want anything, success is a gift you can't press for. Surely that is one reason why opening a kiln induces very mixed feelings. There's a very narrow line between winning or losing a piece, "a lot of milk and not much cream". But the cream is the richer.

Sandy's way of working leads inevitably to changes in her ceramics; nothing can be repeated, the last piece is also the prelude to the following one. Lately, this constant reacting and exploring brought remarkably less colour and décor. It seems like Sandy becomes more and more calm and settled, more in accord with herself and her world; her ceramics are anyway. The soft and creamy character of her slip plays a more important part than ever, shows wonderfully the sparsely doodles and colour splashes and gets - together with the glaze - the desired, butterly character. Oblivious playfullness instead of demonstrative power seems to become more important.

Within all these vivid and lasting impressions I take home with me, the belief in my own voice is the succinct one. Just because of Sandys so clear-cut and sustained own mark I got the opportunity and the challenge through working with her, her materials and colours to find my very own language.

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