It is great when you sell your art work, but if the client lives far away, then what?
I have tried a few courier firms, and where as most times my sculptures arrive in one piece, other times …
Yes, well…This was my Blue Angel sculpture before she crashed.
So now, I try to deliver my sculptures personally; I’ve got these ancient Samsonite suitcases, and as long as the collector doesn’t live too far away, a day on the train is quite amusing.
Yesterday, I delivered a ceramic torso to a lady in Cambridge; I felt surreptitious and furtive like a goon; a quick rendezvous outside the station, both of us in dark glasses, a flurry of bubble wrap and crying babies and then back on the train with an empty suitcase.
This is a link to my website, where you can find more torsos and other work.
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I used to quite like this ceramic plaque ‘Pellitur Paternos’ (it means ‘expel the parents’ – graffiti seen on a wall in old Pompei, or perhapsit is a phrase from a poem by Horace)
But now that it is being colonised by the infernal parrots, it is kind of trashed. I love the birds, of course, but since I let them out of their cage they refuse to go back in. Problem is, I don’t blame them.
Birds of a feather; I’d rather not be in a cage, too.
Next step; nappies?
This is a detail of what it looks like without being covered in parrot poo.
And this an installation I made in a crypt in St.Mary in the Castle, based on a couple of hundred similar ceramic plaques
About three rows of trees down from my front garden, the mist is rolling in from the English Channel. This image is taken from my studio window.
Meanwhile outside, in my back garden, the sun is beaming down!
How I adore this exuberance. I swear it comes from not weeding, evah!
I counted at least eight different kind of bees…there are white faced bees, there are bees with a very long snout, like shrews. There are furry black bees with a bright orange backside. There are indigenous black honey bees and also the normal golden honey bee. There are black and white bumble bees and tiny black bumble bees. There are yellow, black and white bumble bees. Plus a few bee-looking characters that I think are actually flies in disguise. They hover like helicopters and seem to chase the other bees.
Anyway. I’m loved up by all this, and could sit here telling the bees for hours.
But, I must back to the studio. And the infernal cockatiels! Man!
Meanwhile I luxuriate in the knowledge that others have this daft love for bees and flowers, too…https://annakeiller.wordpress.com/2013/10/02/telling-the-bees/
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I finished a poem about Joni Mitchell this morning and as I ventured out into the pale sun light I saw her;
The old vixen with the dodgy eyes and the yellow teeth.
She had evicted my cat from his sleeping quarters and now lay there staring up at me as I cooed and fussed.
The synchronicity made me laugh.
But she merely yawned, stretched and ambled off.
I hung my laundry and then I fed the cat.
Walking proud, tail tucked deep
inside those billowing gowns
Hair, smile, swagger
That poor man
a glimpse of yellow teeth, a sharp note of ammonia
the rare flash
of the white tip
of your bushy tail
That turned his head?
Anna Keiller April 2015
I’m glad this ceramic torso have found a new home in Cambridge.
I used wine leaves from a friend’s vineyard to press into the clay, and the piece is called ‘Spirit of the vineyard’
The dimensions are 52 x 41. To see more, please go here
My studio this morning.
I have a good feeling about today.
I feel as bleak as the weather; a mean cold spring is chasing the warmth from my hands and from my eyes; I can see only grey and white these days.
I seem to wake up in a rush; excited by proxy. My mind is telling me that today will be the day I crack the riddle of the view and besides the sun will be shining and, and, and.
But, blow me down, by lunchtime I will be ready for bed again; my electric blanket and whatever book I’m currently reading seeming such a brilliant alternative to pacing the studio and shouting at the cockatiels for eating all my sculptures and crapping in the clay.
But some of my bleakness has found its way into the last views; the plaques are not yet fired and I am scared to bisque them – I love the colours of the un-fired work.
This last one cracks me up completely every time I look at it. The clouds too large for the frame. So hugely claustrophobic. Rather like my feelings at the moment. I might just take one huge breath of air one of these days and watch the studio, the house, the town explode into a cloud of rubble.
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I have slowly gained the trust of the wild cockatiels currently living in my studio. But I doubt they’ll ever behave like the adorable little ‘tiels you see on YouTube.
My birds come from a very disturbed background.They are hard work. But I had a cunning plan. I wanted them to breed and then I would worm my way into the affections of their offspring!
In time I too would have an adorable little ‘tiel sitting on my shoulder, nibbling at my ear!
It all seemed to go to plan. Bo-Bo and Star were singing, courting, mating, nesting…Happy days.
Every night they sleep perched on the curtain rails, and as you can imagine the curtains have become rather grubby over the months. In fact, you can see how messy they are in the pictures. I was going to take them down and burn them.
Well, that was my plan until Bo-Bo started to behave in a rather strange way..
He developed a strong affection, a close bond, with the curtains.
Is it the feel of the velvet? The colour?
Do the curtains understand him in ways his wife does not?
He began to express this over whelming affection vigorously. Obsessively.
Star and I both feel rather bemused. And a tad embarrassed.
I just love the way she is looking at him in this picture.
So! No eggs, folks. No fluffy grand children for me to play with and take to the park…
The bird has developed a kink. I am hoping it is a passing phase.
I have obsessively recorded the view from my studio over the last few months, wondering how I could possibly convey in clay what filled my heart with such joy. I’m kind of past the worry of not doing a good job, and just flowing with the joy of creating…stuff.
I wanted the randomness of naked fire on to the work; I found what I made too pretty, too fey. Smoke firing glazed work will often add extra life and depth to the glazes.
So I recently loaded a few tests into my trusty dustbin, filled it with sawdust, dry grass and leaves and lit up.
I just love this bit.
It got rid of the prettiness, all right. Again, a few tiles cracked, but I think I made them too thin.
I’m going to roll with this. I’m out of sawdust at the moment but soon, very soon, there will be another bonfire at Dudley Road studios, Hastings!
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