Becoming a York based Sculptor
‘Every day, you have to abandon your past or accept it and then, if you cannot accept it, you become
a Sculptor.’ Louise Bourgeois
This quote certainly chimes with me. Sculpting has been a way of coping with the unknown, grief and an ever-changing world we live in - providing a constant presence and deep within the stone I have found a generosity of spirit and a true friend. I suppose I could say I am a bit of day dreamer, like to get lost in my own imagination. Well, I was at school. Art could have been a great comforter, giving me permission to express those uncomfortable feelings, thoughts and inner dialogue that went with the experience of losing a father aged 12.
Grief can be lonely and one seeks to escape that stark reality and normality of great loss by tuning out, silencing the noise both internally and externally. In attempt to remove that world, day dreaming becomes the greatest companion, a kind of buffer for unwanted feelings.
But Art as a therapy came much later on and, in hindsight, I am glad of the wait as my emotions were fully matured by the time I confronted grief head on and detangled all the knots and raw emotion while sculpting stone. In a sense each sculpt is a form of renewal and a stage closer to a kind of self-acceptance, as I remove layer after layer of the outer stone and with it shed my own unwanted feelings.
Although I didn’t take Art at school, I immersed myself in the work of others and spent many an hour purring over others and their achievements. That time spent observing, absorbing and admiring the work of others in the Art block led to a lifelong commitment to the Arts which I withhold to this day, I suppose I could call myself a spectator/voyeur.
That change in me where I became both spectator and sculptor came in 2008 when I enrolled on a Sculpture with design course, with no requirements necessary, other than an avid interest in the Arts. I was fortunate to have a very gentle and inspiring tutor, who soon gave up on asking for a sketch or a Maquette of the proposed work and let me free with a pencil and a block of stone. This approach in carving terms is called Direct Carving, used by both Moore and Hepworth, where one pencil draws a rough outline as to where they want to go with the stone. Allowing the work to evolve organically, whereby the sculpture’s form is dictated by the shape, density and the integral markings of the stone. This approach has been incredibly freeing , a kind of active dreaming. I am a strong believer that in every block of stone or wood dwells a spirit. Direct Carving is a way of freeing the spirit, my own and the spirit of the stone.
The process of carving stone is unusual in the sense that at the beginning of the carve you are asked to remove the existing material, what we call ‘roughing out’ removing as much of the stone with a chisel point until a form begins to emerge. In most Art forms you start the journey by adding paint to the canvas or building up of the clay. That’s another reason why sculpting really appeals to me. There is no fear of that first brushstroke to paper. Also somehow the solidity of the stone and its tactility, the human touch, stone against skin, feels like you are working with a living thing. This is also true of the alchemy when the play of light and shade quiver and dances over the surface of the stone.
Stone is truly timeless and it is an absolute privilege to work with a natural part of the Earth which goes back to the beginning of time that is both sustainable and forgiving and will outlive us all. A stark reminder of how small we are in this world.
Every day I lean into what the stone offers, guiding me, covering my own hidden limitation, of which there are many. Reminding myself that I am still early on in my career and only started selling my work during Covid. I still have a lot to learn.