How are new words formed, and why? The Guardian writer Andy Bodle informs us we enlarge our lexicon by approximately 1,000 new words per annum. New words are coined when the existing lot – all several million of them – prove inadequate; such innovations are birthed out of creative play and streaks of neological genius.
‘’Clay Formes: Contemporary Clay from South Africa’, a recently released volume edited by Olivia Barrell, proposes a dictionary addition in its very title. ‘Formes’ is not immediately recognizable as an English word; its origins are rooted in the French language and culture. Yet this is neither pretentious affectation nor, heaven forbid, a misplaced colonial throwback. Instead, Barrell has reached beyond common word usage to give more expansive, fuller expression to a field where the existing descriptive terms are perhaps too stunted to encompass what she wishes to articulate.
‘This word, borrowed from the French “forme” meaning “shape, form or object [of art] ”, attempts to pioneer new vocabulary for a previously misunderstood and muddied genre-defying existing, often problematic, terminology around this medium, such as “ceramic art”,’ Barrell writes in the useful editor’s note that prefaces the publication. ‘These defining terms narrow the scope of what might be found within the artistic expression of and through clay – for should we limit this artistic expression purely to the medium when fired?’ she explains. ‘Formes’ is not the only word her book initiates. ‘Claywork’ is another that has been ushered into being. ‘While writing this volume, we were confronted with a limited amount of words for describing artworks in clay, so we have used a new word, “claywork”, which appears throughout the book,’ Barrell states. It is my hope that what Barrell proposes can be taken up into broader usage and that both ‘formes’ and ‘claywork’ become widely accepted frames of reference when speaking about sculptural works of clay within contemporary art, and in this instance, South African contemporary art.
Ledelle Moe, Untitled, 2024. Courtesy of the artist and Art Formes.
‘Clay Formes’ distinguishes itself through this narrowed focus, eschewing purely functional pieces because they are not wholly concerned with the sculptural. In this, the book lays claim to being the first publication of its kind in the country.
What follows Barrell’s introduction are essays by local art writers Sean O’Toole and Ashraf Jamal – the usual suspects who write unusually well – and a third by writer and researcher Caitlin MacDonald, who was also Barrell’s able assistant editor. O’Toole’s essay runs first and presents a compelling argument for the presence of clay commentary in academic discourse. He suggests that contrary to a perspective of marginalisation, highlighted by ceramics scholar Wendy Gers1Wendy Gers’ doctoral thesis focused on South African studio ceramics from the 1950s – in particular the output of Kalahari Studio, Drostdy Ware and Crescent Potteries – Juliet Armstrong, Elizabeth Perrill, Ian Calder, Melanie Hillebrand, Juliette Leeb-du Toit and Elza Miles, among others., there is a significant and growing body of critical engagement. He, too, like Barrell, points out the poverty in the existing wordage and its woolliness. He writes: ‘To be sure, the uptake of clay in South Africa is framed by a defining ambiguity as to its place within a westernised art economy. This ambiguity is registered in the convoluted semantics that continue to bedevil writing around the medium. Adjectives like “applied”, “commercial”, “decorative” and “contemporary” are unhelpfully prefixed to vocational nouns like “artist”, “artisan”, “maker” and “designer”. Far from being a means to speak the world, to bear witness to the richness of its materialised imagination, the straitened language around clay has often ended up narrowing the experience of it. Little wonder Hylton Nel sometimes prefers the simple appellation “potter” to account for what he does.’ In its concluding paragraph, O’Toole’s essay praises ‘Clay Formes’ as a ‘brave proposition’, a book whose ‘language is entirely its own.’
Siyabonga Fani, ICTAF, 2024. Photograph by Barry White.
MacDonald’s essay follows and she writes that to pay careful attention to clay itself is a claim to the flesh of the earth, a claim to an ancestor. She touches on the earliest creation stories and the role of clay in man’s primordial start, of human life breathed into being by language, of inert mud embodied. And how, since then, makers using clay, themselves made in a creator’s image, have formed worlds and themselves through the medium. This essay is rich and well researched and its anecdotes (such as the practice of eating clay) are fascinating; also, the superb penmanship does it every favour.
From Jamal, we hear of an intimate materialism, of how clay form and its indentations evoke the eternal ever-shifting choreography of being and creation. His contribution is written after his own reading of MacDonald’s essay and follows by way of response. He eloquently expands on the themes she introduces, describing the nature of clay as that which ‘evokes the eternal ever-shifting choreography of being and creation.’
Following the three essays, the book’s focus shifts to the main section, featuring a collection of thirty clayworkers, each accompanied by essays written by various contributors. These include Sophie Cope, Tao Argue, Keely Shinners, David Mann, as well as Barrell and MacDonald, with each essay beautifully illustrated with photographs. There is much richness and variety to be found in this ‘conscious decision to illustrate the diversity within art writing, which, of late, seems to have developed certain stylistic and expressive norms, explains Barrel. ‘Clay Formes sought to illustrate the boundless possibilities of clay, but it also sought to showcase the wealth and originality of literary writing that can exist around artistic practice.’ The writing enriches the visuals, and the understated layout helps assuage your thirst for even more photographs. This is not necessarily a lack in the book but rather a mark of success that invites the desire for more.
The formes you will find within its pages are not necessarily the exclusive domain of ‘ceramicists’ working solely in the medium of clay. When looking at the 30 chosen artists, it is tempting to ask: ‘I wonder why they did not include so and so?’ But I am not sure how useful this question is, even if Githan Coopoo, Shirley Fintz, Martine Jackson, Wilma Cruise and others do spring to mind.
The oft-heard kiln cliché of ‘you never know what’s going to happen once it goes in to be fired’ tends to hold as an analogy for what might happen now that choices have been made and the book exists. Barrell has forged a publication that not only suggests a necessary paradigm shift but makes one, bringing the underserved into focus and leapfrogging previous writings and considerations to do so. It is a pioneering moment. She has moulded a new mode and fresh terms, proffering them to the fire. Now, we wait for the telling chemical reaction to occur…
Art Formes booth at Investec Cape Town Art Fair, 2024 by Matt Slater.
