pie +

Walter Dexter - A Review

Large coloured rectangular surfaces of clay,
not canvas, deal with che formal elements of
painting. Outrageous colours normally used
as small accents in painting become large
fields of sometimes raw, sometimes seductive,
surface trearments. Everywhere textures
ridiate in electrte hues drawing me closer,
inviting inspection, then startling me with
their dryness or sand paper quality.

Unlike painting, these works are not
“hangable" and are not limited oo a froncal
view. They contend with gravity and insist
on stable surfaces, plinths, tables or floors,
They have no front or backs, as colour ard
texture encircle the forms, each attribute
arumating the other.

I'm greeted by wonderfully coloured textures
trawelled on like honey on coast with cheir
“stickiness” played in for che joy of it.

Shallow depths of che flatter forms curtails my
need to separate the objects inte frones,

backs, sides or tops. Rounded shoulders and
squared bottoms on these bottle forms causes
a fascinating floating effect to the colour field.

Obvious technical skills in glazes and form
building do not overpower these lovingly
made works and | can vicariously experience
the joy of their creation, Walter creates such
tension between the two cradicional worlds of
painting and sculpture that classification of
his work becomes difficult. These are noe
painted sculpture, but rather, for me, they are
sculpted colour!

The elusive, temporal nacure of his efforts
coupled with his courageous use of colour and
form distinguish him as an outstanding artist
in our time.

He continues to push beyond his own
expectations and we are thus shown what is

possible,

Don Hutchinson,

John Leach’s Pottery at Muchelney

Throwing

Raw clay

Pushed and coaxed
Weighed, pummelled
Squeesed, delved inte
Thrown again
Cajoled into shape
Wet, che steady flow
Beeween canny fingers
Revolving

Mug, jug

Pot and flagon

Dish, plate

Vase and cup
Roundness secured
Form levelled

And evening

Eve's grasp

Pedalling the wheel
Powering the shelves
A silent army
Chinese warriors

Wait for the kiln.

Firing the Wood Kiln

Sparks fly

Ash falls

Sweat and heat mingle
Skin glistens

A finm bank of fire
Feeding the chamber
Shed’s shadows
Hemmed in behind bricks
The flame’s pulse

A healthy glow

Bursts and erupts

The beast alive

The Dragon's tongue
Devourng all before it
Wicked dance

Shapely cargo

Red. orange, yellow
incandescent white
Volcanic and tempestuous
Voyage of heat
Flames’ harvest

Glaze begins to drip.

Unloading

Days later

The uncusy

Prising apart
Expectation

Like openmyg

An Egyptian tomb
Oddity confirmed
Felt and admired
Succulent curve
Watching

The master's eye
Held in the hand
Moored like a barge
The quayside
Customs mspection
The trestle table

A wharf

Heat lingering

As if somehow
We have witnessed

AL miracle

The first rising of bread.

James Crowden from: In Time of Flood: The Somerset Levels