Joanna HAIR by Joanna HAIR
The first animal I made was in
France in 1976,
it was a small hedgehog.
I made it more or less by accident: one minute I was fiddling about
with some clay in a potter's workshop
and the next I was holding a small muddy animal.
At that time in my life, in fact pretty much up til that exact second,
I had been set on having an academic career (which is why I was in France
in the
first place as part of my graduate course).
I'd spent a roller-coaster childhood among artists and actors and was
looking forward to a more serene
adulthood surrounded by books, stability, and people who were neither
artists nor actors.
But that day the clay got under my nails and the sculpting bug got under
my skin.
I settled in France and opted for art and uncertainty
and the same bumpy and exhilarating ride for my children that my parents
had given me.
Between those first animals : hedgehogs, pigs, owls and ducks small
enough to be packed in eggboxes and carried on my bike to sell in local
markets,
to the lifesize sheep and geese of today lie many tons
of clay, experiments, experiences, excitement, triumph, trial and a
lot of error.
The choice of animals has been unpredictable:
they often seem to suggest themselves by grabbing my attention through
my emotions like hilarity (penguins), awe (turtles) unease (pigs) and
so on.
It's this emotional charge which sparks off the sculpture.
Since I started making animals I have become passionately interested
in learning about them which is,
I suppose, only logical.
I observe themwherever I get a chance: minding their own business in
the fields, grazing incongruously on English grass in safari parks,
breeding in selected zoos,
in antique or state-of-the-art aquariums, out of the way bird sanctuaries,
smelly vivariums and also
on video for those I can't see any other way.
While I'm watching animals I try not to get distracted by drawing or
taking photographs but aim to give myself enough time to get caught
up in the rythmn of their movement or experience their stillness.
Once I've decided on what I want to make I work in bursts of frantic
activity covering every available surface with sketch-sculptures roughing
out the attitude
of the animal in a few movements,
to be finished off over the following days.
I tend to relive encounters with the animals I'm making: the horse that
bolted while I was on its back,
the cat I admired from afar, another I adored, a goose that persued
me in a park, a goat up an apple tree,
the first contact with the rough fleece of a sheep,
the tortoise under the succulent plant at my grandmother's house. I'm
surrounded by
documents caked in clay: wildlife magazines,
books and photos which I use these to check odd
details (how many back toes on that particular toad?).
Some details are important because if I get them wrong they distract
attention from the essence of the sculpture which is the thing I'm really
interested in :
the feeling of concentration or relaxation,
whether they're being preditary or maternal as portrayed in a head movement
or the arch of a back.
Over the years as my range of animals, and their size, have expanded
I've adapted my making and firing techniques to accomodate them.
I've learned a lot from studying the different approaches of other artists
and craftpeople and from their generous practical advice during exhibitions
and
international workshops. In France, Britain and Japan, countries where
I've lived, I have met and worked with many artists, ceramists and potters
in their studios
and visited many more in Europe, Switzerland,
the U. S. and Canada.
As a result of these encounters and cultural and technical exchanges
I became interested in and finally adopted the raku technique of firing.
I have been using it exclusively for more than 15 years now and it suits
both my temperament and my animals.
Where to see:
In zoologics and ecologics parks: "A Cupulatta " in Corsica
where you can find a group of giant turtles, and at the Earth Center
of Doncaster in England.
Liège Museum (B) and Baugé Museum (France),
au Centre National d'Enseignement de la Céramique (le CNIFOP)
and at the Natural History Museum in London.
Jean-François ANNE Gallery in Paris.
