Brand new.

The brand, if I can call it that, is me.  All my dolls are mine, as you know if you are a regular reader.  All my porcelain dolls begin as sculptures done by me, from which I make the moulds.

When the current iteration of porcelain doll making began in the sixties, with the invention of a kiln that could run off a domestic electricity supply, in America, when demand for antique collectable dolls exceeded supply, the problem was acquiring moulds.  The makers of the kilns began producing moulds by taking moulds from antique dolls they had collected.  You can make a plaster of Paris mould, and, nowadays, a silicone mould, by pouring or otherwise placing plaster of Paris or silicone, or any other moulding material round the object to be moulded.  When the mould has gone hard the object is removed leaving a hole of the same shape to be filled, thus producing a copy.

There is, however, a pitfall, which the original suppliers of moulds by this method were lucky to have avoided.  This is, that any shape is copyrighted by being made.  Disney are, quite rightly, very jealous of their stars such as Mickey Mouse.  If you bought a Disney Mickey Mouse and copied it, their entire copyright infringement department would be on you like a pack of lawyers.  It was probably only because the original makers of, for example, the French Fashion dolls of the nineteenth century, were long dead, that the domestic kiln suppliers got away with it.  Copyright does lapse in theory seventy years after the death of the author but the law has changed on this topic several times.

So all of my moulds and the originals are copyright to me until I’ve been dead for seventy years.  The copyright issue persists because I have quite often made dolls inspired by dolls from the past, but with my own sculptures, not by taking moulds from existing antique dolls.  This Miniatura I am introducing a new collection of dolls from the past in miniature.  These avoid copyright issues by all being from my own sculptures from my own hand and additionally, interestingly, from my own hand in the past.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On the top row, brand new, are miniature versions of ancient Greek dolls.  The originals, which are about four thousand years old, now live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and were found in tombs.  They were made of terracotta, bone or ivory and typically wear a headdress called a polos, a tunic and shoes.  The human originals of the dolls were dancers.

Next in line are miniaturised versions of my take on seventeenth century English dolls.  Lord and Lady Clapham absolutely fascinated me when I first contracted dollitis.  I initially made the dolls to be twenty-fourth scale house residents.  I am now shrinking them to be dolls’ dolls.  There are only a few of each, as you can see because the best ones I made, I will use to make more moulds.  If these appear on my table and you love them please do get them while you can, they will not appear in this size again.

I am also going to shrink the bottom row of nineteen thirties dolls, so these are all prototypes.

The next picture was going to be more prototypes, except that some rushing doll maker forgot to save one to make moulds.  So these will stay at this size.  At just over three inches they are little girls in your twelfth scale house.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Doll enthusiasts will identify these as nineteenth century French Fashion types by the huge eyes, the jointing of the neck into the body and the pierced ears.  I plan to dress these as French Fashion miniatures with the customary million frills.

This is the group you might consider to be ethical tributes to dolls of the past.  Next posting might be the new new (and some new stuff.)  I like a bit of new.  Do you?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Still a few tickets, not many.  www.miniatura.co.uk

Posted in Dolls, Miniatura | Tagged | Leave a comment

Disaster.

This will be a high speed posting, I am running out of time.  It’s three weeks and a couple of days to the show and I haven’t even begun assembling dolls yet.  And, helpfully, there has been a disaster.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Here are three men.  Well, their heads to be accurate.  They all look as if they are having a bad head day because, as you can see, they have split across the nose.

Splits in porcelain coming out of the kiln can happen for various reasons.  One is thermal shock.  I recall a doll-making friend who had a dreadful disaster with the first doll heads he ever took out of the kiln.  He removed them when they were still hot, using tongs, placed them on a wooden board and watched as all the heads cracked across the fragile parts, making sad little ‘chink’ noises as they cracked.

I let my kiln cool down completely, before I retrieved, washed and grit scrubbed the heads.  As I was washing hundreds of pieces of porcelain I didn’t notice all of the cracked heads until I came to china painting.  I think the reason these have cracked is a design fault, or possibly a pouring fault.  The round glass eyes sit in a specially excavated hole inside the head.  To make the hole, using tools of my own design, is quite a challenge.  The tool is a mapping pin stuck in a bit of stick, enrobed in a thin layer of coarse material, I use my old tights from the nineteen sixties.  I gently twirl the pin, excavating a hole.  If I safely don’t go far enough the doll will have sunken eyes.  If I go too far the tool will burst through the face, shattering it.  In this case I think I had left too fine a bridge of material behind the nose, probably under half a millimetre.

Porcelain is so exacting, so exciting and so interesting.  I’ve been doing it for thirty one years and still have a lot to learn.  Which is why I pour as many pieces of porcelain as this:

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

with a bit of luck and a lot of work, some of them will make it all the way through the processes.

Which ones get to the end I will show you if and when they do!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

www.miniatura.co.uk

Posted in Dolls | Tagged | Leave a comment

Werk. Bang.

I have finished the rubbing down and cleared up.  I have wet washed the floor, all the drapes across the furniture, my clothes, my hair, my bed and anything else involved.

Fifteen solid at least fourteen hour days.  Never done that much before, never expect  to do it again.

Now for the firings.  First to bisque, then to glaze finishes, then to china paint.

Then the assembly, then the dressing.

Five weeks to the show, I will need every minute.

Something always happens to steal time.  On Friday it was a car accident.  I had stopped at a roundabout.  The car behind me had stopped, until it suddenly lurched and hit my bumper.  The young couple were very concerned.  We drove to a nearby restaurant with a large, lit, car park and examined the cars.  Trying to calculate the age of my car I said my own age and thought the driver was going to faint.  He went white as a sheet and wobbly at the thought that he might have finished off someone the same age as his granny.

I left the couple in the car park, waiting for a truck to tow their car.  Mine is due at the garage on Wednesday for a check up, I’ll have to waste an afternoon driving it there and waiting.  Can you china paint on a garage forecourt?  Probably not.

As soon as I announce how long to the show something goes pear shaped.  So it’s just as well I haven’t told you.

I bet someone will tell you here: www.miniatura.co.uk  which is the place to get tickets to see if I managed to do all the steps for all the new things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted in About artists., Dolls | Tagged | Leave a comment

Pressing the buttons.

The OH is utterly addicted to his mobile phone.  If he is awake, it is in his hand.  He thinks he is a genius because he knows everything, I think he has outsourced his thinking.

When I rub down the porcelain, because it is dry, it creates dangerous dust.  To counter this I wear a mask.  For many years they were very cumbersome and made me look  as if I was a titchy, substandard, fireman.  In the last few years much lighter masks have been available, which, usually being made in the Far East, are a better fit for my small face.  My most recent purchase was recalled for a manufacturing fault, but I carried on using it for a while, waiting for funds to turn up for a new one and the time to look online to choose one.

I did so and the new mask turned up yesterday with a complicated arrangement round the back of the head to relieve pressure, an unfathomable system of adjustment and instructions only in Chinese.

Back in the day the OH studied Mandarin at O level.  I therefore asked him if he could translate the instructions.

He whipped out the all-powerful phone and, after the usual endless screens came up with ‘ esta mascara…’

Chinese into Spanish.  Such a help.

‘Read it slowly, so I can understand!  This mask…’

But by then he had found English, gabbled it through, switched his phone off and went to the pub, very pleased with himself.

I worked it out in the end because of thirty-one years of wearing masks.

I am probably the last person in the country without a mobile phone.  I see they are making television programmes called Race across the world, where they take people’s phones off them, take away their credit cards, don’t let them get on a plane and then make them find their way around.

Welcome to my world.  We use cash here and do our own thinking.

Quaint.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is still time to get one of the dwindling number of tickets for the 100th Miniatura.  www.miniatura.co.uk

Posted in About artists. | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Werk 3 ish.

I am working twelve hour days at present.  I am still rubbing down all the porcelain castings and now after a week of rubbing I am here.

1table

All the big stuff up the far end of the dining table has disappeared.  The horses have been in the kiln for two firings, currently I hate them.

This disgust with perpetrated art I believe to be perfectly normal.  In all the years I interviewed artists the only ones who were happy with what they were doing were adapters.  Miniaturists, for example, buying in wooden dressers and filling them with made and bought-in items, or people dressing dolls made from commercial moulds.  Some of the people utilising the art of others are really themselves at the top end of the game, such as needlepointers and embroiderers reproducing textiles of the past, or furniture makers making famous pieces of furniture in miniature.  I think the confidence there comes from the agreement having already been reached by consensus, that what they are aiming for is art.

If it is completely your own, made out of an idea in your own head, deciding whether or not it is art, is, in itself a work of art, when opinions are still divided on much of the art of the twentieth century, for example.  Andy Warhol’s soup cans – art or rubbish?  His images of Marylin Monroe, rubbish or art?  Did you answer each question differently and, if so, why?  Surely the subject matter cannot elevate the art when both are from popular culture?  Then, of course, when we get to miniatures, you can choose to miniaturise anything at all.  Is a miniature cathedral, perfect in every detail, better art than a miniature dustbin, perfect in every detail, just because it is a cathedral?

I think art cannot be seen immediately after it has been produced.  I think, like mould, it has to hang around for a bit until it grows on you.  I remember as a child being taken to see the newly finished Coventry Cathedral, which shocked as many art critics as it delighted.  Now, having moulded over nicely, the balance of opinion is that it is high art.

So, I might be making high art.  I  might be making Hi, art!  Tricky to say.  What I certainly am making is a mess.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Here’s an arty question.  What is this?

Time is up, fortunately gravity is down, which is why this is a bin containing the dust from all the rubbings and some castings that broke.  I rub on to a stack of paper, standing on sheets of plastic, whilst clad in an apron, a mask, a hair band, and sitting on a chair cover, while the chair is standing on sheets of plastic, and the end result is this.  And also, of course, the smooth and smoothly fitting pieces of proto porcelain.  They then go on to the circular kiln shelves, and, when enough are full, into the kiln.

The next lot of shelves will have two firings too, containing, as they do, hands and feet.  The first firing will reduce the pieces to bisque, when they are cool I will glaze all the fingernails and fire again.

And that will be next week taken care of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are still some tickets left, head over to www.miniatura.co.uk for details.

Posted in Dolls | Tagged | Leave a comment

W-erk! 2

My dining table currently looks like this

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA.

It’s the result of pouring porcelain every twelve hour day for a fortnight.  If I do that, I get this, which is a lot of work no matter which end you look at it from.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I don’t know which is worse, or, depending how you look at it, more impressive.

Whilst it is a lot of work, the work has only just begun.  Because now every single piece of porcelain has to be rubbed down.  There are a lot in every tray, and some are very small.  Looked at individually it’s daunting.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

And, awfully, I’ve just received the email from Miniatura that reminds me there’s only seven weeks to the show.

Usually when I pour for a week it takes two weeks to rub it all down, so there might be four weeks work here, just to get it in the kiln for the first firing.

If everything goes OK.

And there might not be much time to write.

However do watch out for an announcement, which you will already know about if you are sent emails from the Miniatura website, which has a new feature, showing all the good new stuff for the next show.  You will already know about it if you were at the last show and I gave you a leaflet.

I will not be the only artisan who doesn’t take much notice of the weather.  It could be wet, it could be ideal for frying eggs on the pavement, it could be filling up reservoirs.

And there’s some sort of games going on in Paris, isn’t there?

Not here.  Here the future is rubbing down.
Rubbing to make the seam lines vanish.  Rubbing to make the knees articulate.  Rubbing to make the loops go in the holes.  Rubbing to make the faces smooth and beautiful.

I hope not rubbing to an RSI.  I think I may be glad of learning to be ambidextrous when I broke my second arm, and will definitely rub with alternate hands as gently as possible.

I’ll let you know when I get on to firing. Firing will be when every single piece of porcelain has been rubbed to beauty and perfection.

Until then, you know what I’ll be doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tickets for the 100th Miniatura are selling fast and there is a cap on the numbers of visitors allowed in the hall for safety.  If you’d like to see the wonders, you might like to head to www.miniatura.co.uk

Click on next show, show specials. More about mine next time and further updates on what the other artists are getting up to for this very special show, as they tell Andy and he adds the information.  Keep checking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted in About artists., Dolls | Tagged | Leave a comment

The time of the lilies.

Sounds like one of those frustrated nineteenth century novels where the heroine spends a great deal of time looking out of an upstairs window, fiddling with the net curtains whilst pinning all her hopes on a forthcoming bring and buy sale and the subsequent Gay Gordons in the church hall.

Or it could be a new religion, or yoga movement.  The time of the lilies is nigh, make sure your soul is squeaky clean and you can get up from downward dog without Mrs Smith yanking your waistband again (memo to self, don’t wear the very stretchy leggings again, at least not for yoga.)

But it isn’t.  What it is, is mid July in the Northern hemisphere and the lilies are out.

When I say the lilies are out, I don’t, of course mean like the young doctors, lining the pavements with placards and a brasier.  (That’s the metal dustbin with the holes in and a fire inside and a few hopeful sausages on sticks perched on the rim.  Not the burn your brassieres like in the early seventies, which many noted at the time, was only for the flat chested.  I don’t recall anyone over a D cup participating.)

Anyway not that.  Nor out like the railway workers, who haven’t yet realised that if they scupper the trains enough we’re all going to find another way of getting there.

No the lilies are sufficiently out to be seen from the lawn and the upstairs window.  Not only out but up.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Almost as tall as the tree which is about seven or eight feet tall.

Here they are from the pavement side.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Pretty good huh?  And in close up.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Fantastic.  The lilies round the back of the house are just as good.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

These are the Hemerocallis, the day lilies, in which each flower only opens for a day.

And

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

all the lilies beside the patio door are flowering too.

It’s the time of the lilies.

This year particularly good because I found a spray to deter lily beetles, which doesn’t harm them, though you do have to spray every third day.

I did religiously, on strike against lily beetles.  Every time I spotted them out of the net curtain I popped out, spray in hand and I watered and fed them and now

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

is the time of the lilies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted in About artists. | Tagged | Leave a comment

The pour the merrier.

I am still pouring porcelain, by tomorrow I’ll be into my second week of it.  I took a photograph of what I’d achieved the day before yesterday

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA 

not very impressive is it?  The moulds waiting to be poured are at the front of the picture, the pourings are in the trays at the back.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It doesn’t look like a lot of work for a week but it is. At the top of the picture are the horses, which I think I’m going to chuck.  I only remembered, after I had poured all of those, the method by which I’d planned to fasten the head to the rest of the horse, which, cleverly, requires two holes which I cannot make, now the castings have dried out

Making internally jointed, miniature, multi-part porcelain artefacts anyway, is a work of engineering as much as anything.  Although thirty-one years of experience is helpful, I still have to learn how to pour each mould, where the sticking places are, how fast to pour out and how soon I can demould the castings.  The last two are variable, depending on the temperature of the room and the dampness of the mould.  The mould absorbs water from the casting and gets wetter as you work, so the drying time varies.  Pouring in a heatwave is a different experience from pouring in the depths of winter.  In general, once you’ve worked out how to do it, you can only get four pours a day from a mould before it becomes too wet to use and has to dry out overnight.  In the tray at the bottom of the picture you can count three men’s torsos, and all the bits to go with them, which was all that could be done in a day.  I would love to say that I will get three men out of that tray, but with breakages in rubbing down, sometimes caused by thin bits, not apparent from the outside, sometimes caused by the tiredness of the rubber, one man and some spare legs are a more likely outcome. If you are good at counting you will notice that he has two heads.

At the pouring stage I also have to devise stringing hooks.  Here they are

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

You can see the rolls of wire, a special type to withstand the heat in the kiln without melting or distorting.  You can see, in the space in the middle, a couple of loops I have made with a pair of pliers in either hand.  Long before I did porcelain, I made jewellery and got quite good, then, at working two-handed with pliers, which is a required skill for the job, that would never occur to anyone looking at a pretty dressed porcelain doll.  Quite a lot of the making is fairly industrial in nature.

There are two rolls of wire in the picture, but I have numerous sizes to use.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Here you can see the loops for the twelfth scale man in the round jar lid and the loops for a twelfth scale child in the rectangular plastic box.  The twirly ends of the loops are plunged into the just demoulded, damp, feet or hands but the circular parts that carry the stringing elastic protrude and have to fit inside the fired hollow calf or lower arm and move, otherwise he can’t walk off doing a hand jive.

I haven’t even got into the twenty-fourth scale children yet, for which the moulds are awaiting.  I am also having a go at a twenty-fourth scale baby.  I have done one previously but it was visibly jointed with wire which had not been in the kiln, going through holes in the torso and upper limbs.  Now I’m going to see if I can do internal joints, which will require awfully small wire loops, at which point I will be getting into the area of miniature manufacture where unplanned sneezing can cost hours of work.

I actually enjoy this.

I’m a bit strange.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted in Dolls | Tagged | Leave a comment

Not raining, pouring.

Regular readers know exactly what I’m doing.

I’m pouring liquid clay to make dolls, sculptures, ornaments and all the rest of the things I have made for over thirty one years in porcelain.

There’s a lot to pour.  There are fifty four individual moulds to be poured.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA, here they are.

There are not fifty four individual items to come out of them.  Many of the items are made up of several pieces of porcelain, strung together.  The horse, for example, with which I have started because it is the most difficult and most likely to need tweeking, uses seven moulds, though each mould may have multiple pieces of porcelain in it.  One mould is for the lower limbs, four of them, and one for the upper limbs, four of them.  The smallest horse mould is for the ears, I don’t know if I’ve made them big enough.  I have thrown away three heads so far.

The horse is using vast amounts of porcelain slip, which is hard to come by and expensive, because it’s imported.  The brand I use comprises English China Clay dug up, shipped across the pond, enriched with a couple of teaspoons of chemicals that occur naturally in America.  Then vast quantities of tap water are added, the whole thing is mixed and put into gallon jars and then shipped across the pond to dealers who add a lot of money because they have large storage shelves.

The cost of a gallon is enough to make you think diamonds are cheap.  I will later, if any horses go all the way through all the processes, work out how much they should cost, allowing for the cost of the porcelain slip, the cost of firing an electric kiln for several hours, the cost of  wire to make the stringing hooks, stringing resin, manes and tails and a skilled craftsman working for £10 an hour.

If I did it properly I’d add the cost of the show table, transport to the show and the two cups of tea I will drink over the weekend.

Realistically the horses should cost about £150 each but they’re probably going to be £50 or less, depending on what they look like, supposing any get finished.

And you could say the same for many of the Miniatura artisans, who are a load of artists and not good at commercial stuff.  Over the fifteen years or so that I interviewed professional miniaturists for magazines, the only ones making money were importers and  people who had contacts in parts of the world where labour was cheaper than here and making miniatures was considered ladylike work compared to standing up to your knees in a paddy field.

But there are very few of them at Miniatura, which is by and small a hall full of original artists.  If it were in one scale it would be inundated with collectors from round the world.  At one point when it got up to three hundred stands, it was.

Happily the hobby shrunk again, which suits it much better.  There are still shows in very international venues with high prices and many dealers.

And there’s Miniatura, just over 100 stands of things miniaturists need and a load of artists.

And maybe, even a few articulated horses.

We shall see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I’ll see first, in a couple of weeks and if they’re any good, I’ll show you.

Posted in Dolls | Tagged | Leave a comment

Gareth not Gareth.

I’ve been looking after the grandchildren while their parents were away on holiday.  They live in a lovely Edwardian semi with all the original fireplaces, halfway up a mountain in Wales.

Mountain is not an exaggeration.  The first day I crept down it to deliver the children to school but had to stop eight times on the almost vertical way back, for my heart rate to return to nearly normal.  I had stimulating conversations with breathless locals doing the same thing.  By the end of the week I was down to two stops and a lot fitter.

This got me thinking about sport, of which I know little and care less.  However the prevalence of the Euros (which are football matches, you may have known this, you may not have known this) has caused me to invent a game.

I am able to recognise Gareth Southgate, whom I believe to be the manager of the England football team (usually present in the midst of people shouting ‘IN ger LAND, IN ger LAND’ for some reason, though this may be a helpful aide memoire, footballers not being selected for geographical knowledge, at all.)  I can, without a crib sheet, recognise him by his face in most circumstances.  Yesterday I recognised him with his back to the camera, within about three seconds.

I can now identify people on television as ‘Gareth Southgate’ and ‘Not Gareth Southgate’ with great facility.  I have adapted this into a game which you may emulate, at no cost.  If I am able to speak my recognition within a couple of seconds of the man, or some other man, appearing on screen, I award myself a point.  We are now up to the semi finals and I have seven and a half points (he went off screen but I think it was him.)

I am mostly able to distinguish footballers from the rest of humanity.  Footballers are the ones who have paid their hairdressers too much money.

Identification of individual footballers is beyond me.  I might manage one or two if they stood still a bit longer.  There is one called Harry, I think, but that might be a pop star of some sort.

I did  quite a bit of gardening at the grandchildren’s house.  It needed it.  On the return of the parents I was able to warn them of several species of plant obscuring the paths or rooting into the brickwork, their habits, growing season, methods of self propagation, and ideal methods of extermination.

And now, as the rain has stopped temporarily, I shall get out into my own garden and do a bit of weeding, only stopping en route through the lounge to identify Gareth Southgate, or not, depending.  If he is out of mirrors, or in any way having an identity crisis, I’m his me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Posted in About artists. | Tagged | Leave a comment