Raymond Rorke

From the moment raw clay is exposed to air, its moist pliability begins to set into something firm and strong. An idea condenses into thought; thought concentrates into being. Beginning with a lump of clay, I work by hand from the inside out, with a special regard for the hollow space inside — a living, breathing space contemplating the elemental forces between water, earth, air, and fire. As this burgeoning space grows, the clay’s form and surface express a kind of perfection taking shape: pod-like vessels that germinate and swell, animate creatures that breathe and pulsate. Once born, solidified by fire, these beings are everlasting — yet, already they are reminiscent of their potential, and of the earth’s clay from which they originated.


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