Tina Vlassopulos |
Tina Vlassopulos
The critic Herbert Reed, writing about ceramics in his book The Meaning of Art said "pottery is at once the simplest and most difficult of all the arts. It is the simplest because it is the most elemental; it is the most difficult because it is the most abstract". I can think of no better way of introducing the work of Tina Vlassopulos, who must now stand as one of our most engaging of hand builders. In her work, we see the 'elemental', not only in the generous properties of her material, but in the organic nature of what she does. The 'abstract' is there in her assured knowledge of form, which gives each pot a sculpural weight, an understanding of contained space, silhouette and contour.
The apparent simplicity of Tina's pots reflects the nature of a maker who has no interest in rhetoric or theorising; the pot should stand by itself. Indeed she was first drawn to clay because of its inherent lack of pretension - here was a type of creativity, which would allow her to work out ideas through her materials and she is content to be considered "just a potter" in that sense. Thus her preference for handbuilding as the most direct of methods is not surprising. She is part of a particular ceramic tradition that dates back to prehistory, an expressiveness of form that comes directly from the working of the fingers on the clay.
Tina's method seems straightforward enough. She handbuilds, using red earthenware or stoneware, which she occasionally decorates with oxides. She enjoys using slips, but her major preoccupation in the ninties has been with burnished earthenware, which is free of decoration. They are essentially very organic pots, whose richness of colour and expansiveness of form might suggest the warm Mediterranean rather than the cold North. Each pot has its own wave-like rhythm, a moyion in the body and rim that may curve inwards and upwards. The extensions on each pot heighten that sense of fluidity - each piece is really a large cup form, which is pulled and folded in one particular direction and often modified by pinched corners. There is a clear sense of containment, but the flaring of her pots invites comparisons with plants and flowers as well - a natural growth.
The apparent austerity of Tina's work is in no way limiting. The subtle variations of surface make the most of the varied light of our interiors and any 'decoration' comes from the rich landscape of each undulating surface. In her twisting and ribbon-like extensions, she maintains a complex plasticity and her rims do not so much as terminate a piece - more, they draw broad sweeping lines in space and add to the energy and motion of each pot.
Tina is disarmingly direct and even dismissive about her sources; it is objects from everyday life as well as from nature that suggest new ideas to her, but she does not dwell on such ideas as profundities - a string of related forms may result, which are then worked to their obvious conclusion and then she will move on. Very recently she has started to work on the idea of twin pieces, paired vessels with interrelating edges. They are pots which discourse with each other. Yet although her best work stands as convincing sculpture, such thoughts are for her a distraction. She regards herself as a maker first and foremost, who sees in her material endless possibilities and hopes to convey some of these to people who may buy and use her pots.
David Whiting