It's extraordinary work, couldn't quite understand it till I saw the completed pieces at the end, I stopped looking at the individual pots and focused on the space between them and back and the whole piece shimmers, like light from the sea reflecting of modernist building, it does something wonderful inside of the viewer
it's one of the most efficient procrastination minute I've ever spent! I admire the wording around the eternal mystery of creativity... thank you so much for this movie!!
This guy's dad was the Archbishop of Canterbury and his paternal grandmother born of an elite Russian oil and banking dynasty. So, to my mind, when he speaks about his humble little pots and imbues them with the magic of a mozart piano sonata and elevates them way beyond what they are, you see what happens when a working class craft is appropriated by the upper class. it suddenly becomes 'fine art' and not merely ceramics. it really does make you wonder about all the working class women who make these every day all over the world and can barely make ends meet. Yet Edmund de Waal claims what is so magical about his 'art' is that it "really is just me alone, sitting by myself with a lump of clay" Well it's obviously not that, it's that you're an upperclass gent who would never in a million years make hundreds of little pots unless your friends in high places weren't willing to pay millions for them. What a con.
It's extraordinary work, couldn't quite understand it till I saw the completed pieces at the end, I stopped looking at the individual pots and focused on the space between them and back and the whole piece shimmers, like light from the sea reflecting of modernist building, it does something wonderful inside of the viewer
it's one of the most efficient procrastination minute I've ever spent! I admire the wording around the eternal mystery of creativity... thank you so much for this movie!!
*pouf/pouf/pouf imposture!*
For ordinary people, this represents our life. Every day is a beautiful pot, repeated and honed until we can look back on a life well lived.
Totally true I can identify with his explanation ,it's right on the money.
This guy's dad was the Archbishop of Canterbury and his paternal grandmother born of an elite Russian oil and banking dynasty. So, to my mind, when he speaks about his humble little pots and imbues them with the magic of a mozart piano sonata and elevates them way beyond what they are, you see what happens when a working class craft is appropriated by the upper class.
it suddenly becomes 'fine art' and not merely ceramics.
it really does make you wonder about all the working class women who make these every day all over the world and can barely make ends meet. Yet Edmund de Waal claims what is so magical about his 'art' is that it
"really is just me alone, sitting by myself with a lump of clay"
Well it's obviously not that, it's that you're an upperclass gent who would never in a million years make hundreds of little pots unless your friends in high places weren't willing to pay millions for them. What a con.
For some reason I always see the ceramic pots as musical notes when they are on the shelves.
To each his own
Why this discussion? It is about art and a process of life being an artist.
i dont know man, it just feels like he's trying to convince you too much that its something else besides what it really is.
i didn't get it until i saw pot 599
"It always begins with a lump of clay" (and it always ends with many lumps of clay).
Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Si, Do Do, Si, La, Sol, Fa, Mi, Re, Do! Amazing, ha? :)
to charge 500 000 pounds for these pots is a robery !!!
ROBBERY IS WHEN YOU FORCE MONEY FROM SOMEONE. IF SOME PILLOCK WANTS TO PAY IT SHOWS WHAT A KNOBHEADS THEY. ARE
Who said he charges 500,000?
The Emperor’s clothes!
You know you liveg in a puritanical, opulent society when you se