I discovered sculpture relatively late in life, or should I say the wish to try my hand at sculpting. Maybe the wish had always been there for how many of us have childhood memories of sand castles and plasticine. But painting was how I trained and the two dimensional was how I learnt to interpret the world around me.
When I found sculpture it came at a time in my life when things were going to change for I was about to face life without my partner of many years. It was as if from this moment I was learning to look through that familiar canvas to the other side. Even stopping half way to see things sideways. See things in the round. A new dimension.
If the three dimensional or shall we say depth, is used in painting it is usually interpreted by shading and shadow, by the lights and the dark. Then cubism came along. People said a new dimension had been discovered.
But nothing of this is touchable, unless in the mind. Suddenly I experienced the feeling of the clay between my fingers. I learnt to translate a material of earth and weight and mass into movement and energy. I could make it come alive. I could see it from all sides.
People say to me, ‘which do you enjoy most, painting or sculpture?’ I pause for a moment. The excitement of colour on my palette? The piece of stone or terracotta under my hand? Do I have a preference? No, I do not have to consider any more. The one I am doing at the moment. That is what I enjoy the most.
Since first beginning sculpture I have had Arab horse heads cast in bronze in Madrid, a series of dancers sent to a garden out side Paris,and many pieces often of figures in movement cast into cement or fired from clay. The painting on the wall, the piece of sculpture, each is a reflection of the other. A part of ones own particular vision.