When last we convened dear reader, you were kind enough to read my thoughts about art and collecting in “Bmore Out and About: my evening at Connect+Collect at the Motor House.” After the discussion, the event concluded with an opportunity for artists and art collectors to socialize. While enjoying a delicious whiskey concoction from the Showroom Bar, I was delighted to meet one of the patrons. He took one look at my card and remarked- “You have a thing for rabbits, don't you?
Suddenly I could see him imagining what he thought my home must look like- the walls covered in pink bunny wallpaper, every square inch festooned in collectible rabbit figurines, soft green carpets like a bed of tasty grass...and me, featured on CBS’s Sunday Morning in the “quirky people” report, where Mo Rocca marvels in hushed tones “Look at these people! They’re crazier that you!”
No, dear reader, I wouldn't say I have a thing for rabbits at all.
I started to explain to the gentleman that the shape and gesture of the rabbits were inspired by ancient Sumerian votive figures, that their functionality has deep resonance in my own art practice, that I feel a connection to the artists who created the figures from so long ago...
The patron smiled and nodded knowingly.
“Care for another drink? he asked.
Me: (Sigh)
And therein lies the humor in attempting to explain the origins and social relevance of your art in a crowded bar.
The following is an attempt to clarify the message I convey to others about the body of work that I have come to call “the warren.”
Last year I started making small rabbit sculptures, which also functioned as incense burners. I had come up with the idea after researching some ancient sculptures to share with my Handbuilding with Clay students. I hadn't seen the Sumerian votive figures since my first art history class in art school. Back then I saw them as oddly funny, somewhat creepy versions of the “Sound of Music” singers. With their stiff posture, tightly clasped hands, and inordinately large eyes, they appear eager, ever watchful, and awaiting your next command.
Upon further research, I read that the ancient Sumerians built small, one room temples to house their gods and goddesses. The temples were quite literally regarded as the dwelling place of the god or goddess on earth, and, as such, only an elite group of clergy would be allowed to enter to perform rituals, or service the gods’ needs. Barred from entering, well heeled worshippers commissioned figures to act as the physical representations of themselves in the temple. The artists who created these figures chose to represent the devotion of the worshippers by posing them in a gesture of perpetual readiness. Eyes wide, almost cartoonish, (think of Scrooge McDuck when he sees a pile of cash) they want only to bask in the gaze of their deity.
The idea of these representational devotional figures is very familiar to me. Growing up in the Catholic Church, I was surrounded by images of worshippers in poses of adoration. Stained glass windows, paintings, and sculptures lined the walls and halls of the church and school I attended.
I pondered. What if I were to turn this idea of devotion inside out? What if the sacred space were within? Where the deity resides inside the figure, indeed is the figure?
I altered the gesture of the Sumerian figure from one of servitude, to one of reverence and protection. One viewer remarked that it is similar to the gesture that one makes in the “holding the ball” form in Tai Chi. While the gesture of the rabbits was not derived from Tai Chi, it is a fitting comparison. Tai Chi practitioners focus their energy with the intent of moving and balancing it, (and themselves,) within a space. This energy could also be described as one’s essence, or life force.
Detail, “The Wedding Party” Clay, underglaze, glaze.
I changed the figure from a human form into a kind of rabbit/ human hybrid. I wanted my subject to be as close to the natural world as possible. I chose rabbits because of their iconic and complex history in many cultures, and because of their exaggerated eyes and ears. All rabbits have the eyes of prey- that is, they are situated on either side of their skulls so that they can see a predator coming from nearly all sides. I positioned the eyes of my rabbit figures to face a bit more forward. I wanted them to come across as autonomous- powerful and independent actors in their own lives. At the same time, each has within them a hollow- one that harkens back to home, to self, to a tender space that needs protection.
I made a space in the back of each figure for a cone of incense to be lit. The smoke from a lit cone of incense floats up into, and curls around the figure. A small wisp comes out of the hollow the rabbit caresses. While rabbits have no need for ritual, it is a human act of remembrance and honor to light a candle, or burn incense. I wanted my hybrid figures to be functional in this way, to tie them to their beginnings as servants, but also to remember their own connection to the sacred within themselves and others,
Detail, “The Wedding Party”
Before I knew it, I had made 10 figures, and was still in the process of making more.
“Your rabbits are multiplying.” said my studio mate. She was curious to know how many I had planned on making, and possibly to see if I would continue to clutter up the studio with all of their bunny parts. I hadn't planned on anything, really, but answered, “At least a few more.” and then blurted out “And then I'm gonna make a giant one!”
“Hmmm.” she nodded.
“The Wedding Party” Clay, underglaze, glaze
And so began my “warren.” Since then, I did indeed make a giant votive bunny, as well as quite a few more small rabbits, a medium sized rabbit-urn, a dozen or so clay “paintings” and several rabbit tiles.
After building so many of the three dimensional rabbits, I yearned for immediacy that drawing provides.
I remembered how Patty Bilbro, one of the talented resident artists at the Baltimore Clayworks, drew onto the surface of each of the vessels she created. I loved the gesture and freshness of her figures, and wanted to see if I could create that same spontaneity by drawing into the clay itself - somewhere between a sunken relief tile and an etching. Soon I had made quite a few of these sketches in clay, and the story of the rabbits evolved further. They started to appear in family groups. Some were caught in the middle of arguments. Others were captured in a quiet moment of reflection. There were wedding portraits
Earthenware plate, by Patti Bilbro, 2018. Check out more of Patty’s work here
“The Family” Clay, underglaze, glaze
“The Wedding Party” Clay, underglaze, glaze
Today I am still experimenting with this method of exploring the subjects of “the warren.” Not sure how many more I will make, but the thoughts and ideas behind the rabbits continue to hold intrigue for me.
So. Now that I’ve had a chance to explain myself- I’d like to ask you a question, and I’d like an honest answer.
So, here goes…
“Do you think I have a thing for rabbits?”
Monumental Votive Rabbit, Clay, paint, H 36 in. x W 14 in. x D 16 in.