Nature illuminated in porcelain
Ceramicist Chrissy Silver makes impressions of plants on her porcelain lamps which light up to reveal their elaborate beauty
STANDING IN FRONT of an open kiln at the back of her small, light-filled studio, ceramicist Chrissy Silver carefully unpacks a group of white porcelain vessels. Each one has the outline of a plant gently pressed into its surface, and she holds them up to the light to see how their shadowy forms have been captured in the fired clay. “Seeing what’s happened in the kiln is the best part of the process, and it’s always somehow a surprise,” says Chrissy. Opposite the kiln is a dresser full of finished pieces and, next to it, floor-to-ceiling shelves, with more vases; their clean, white surfaces catching the autumn sunshine that pours through the glazed door.
Through the glass, Chrissy can see out to her carefully placed bird table, while elements of her garden have crept into the studio in the form of a vase of dried honesty, a bag of lavender and a group of tools propped up in the corner by a large tin of bird food. The garden plays an important role in her work, as it is her main source of inspiration. She has been a ceramicist for more than 30 years, having completed a postgraduate course in ceramics at Goldsmiths College in the late 1980s, but in 1997, she moved to her present house and started work on her garden.
Over the years, in between having a family and teaching, she worked out how to incorporate the plants she grows into her ceramics; in the process creating a unique range of porcelain lamps. They are large porcelain vases decorated with floral patterns, into which Chrissy adds a light bulb. The patterns are created by pressing plant material into wet clay.
When the lights are off, they are barely visible, but once on, the faint indentations are spotlit; their delicate outlines forming a glowing contrast with the rest of the vase. “When you introduce light, instead of the patterns being a surface texture, you have a third dimension, and they become alive; like when the sun comes out on a dull day,” explains Chrissy.
Beauty of clay
She created her first lamp 14 years ago and over the years has perfected them; gradually working out how to use thinner clay, so that the lamps give out more light and have a greater feeling of delicacy. She loves working with the medium as it is so malleable, and is fascinated by the way it is transformed after being fired. “It’s just magic, as it utterly changes from a lump of clay to something so completely different: 32 years on, I still love that. And even now, I still really enjoy opening the kiln and thinking: ‘How did that happen?’”
The lamp making process starts with Chrissy rolling out the clay; rather like a cook rolling out pastry. She uses a 24in (60cm) long wooden rolling pin to do this, rolling the clay inside a piece of cotton to stop it sticking to the work surface and rolling pin. She uses porcelain clay mixed with paper pulp: the pulp gives the clay strength, so that she can lift it up without tearing. The pulp is burned out in the firing, leaving a very light porcelain. Chrissy aims to get the clay as thin as possible, as the thinner it is, the more translucent the porcelain will be after firing: most of her lamps are made from porcelain 2mm thick. It is also important for the clay to be even, to achieve a uniform thickness. “I make a piece of clay approximately a third bigger than I need to, then I cut the thin edges off so I am left with a nice even bit in the middle,” she explains.
Imprints of plants
Once Chrissy is happy with her sheet of clay, she goes into the garden and chooses her plant material. She does not pick this in advance, as the plants need to be as fresh as possible. “Plants can go droopy very quickly, and quite a lot of leaves start to close up, so I need to work fast,” she explains. Chrissy works with whatever is in season and in the autumn uses lavender and fragile honesty seedheads, as well as the last of her dill, with what she describes as its “delicate and dancey” patterns. One year, she even used slices of apple. “I have three apple trees in my garden, and if something is grown, I can’t bear to let it go to waste,” she confides.
Chrissy is careful not to choose plants that have too much moisture, as these can stick to the clay, so she tends to avoid softer flowers, such as hydrangeas and camellias. She prefers plants with a good structure, but they can bring their own problems, as sometimes the rigid stems will crack the clay if pushed in too hard. Plants such as elderflower, fennel and grasses are favourites, and Chrissy also loves using weeds, such as sticky willy and shepherd’s purse. “Weeds are often surprisingly beautiful, and there is something very satisfying about showing this,” she says. “I think sometimes we can be too controlling in our gardens. I let weeds flourish, and I think it gives a garden softness, so I have lots of cow parsley and all sorts of grasses that most people would cut down.”
Once Chrissy has selected her plants, she arranges them on the clay. She does not follow a preconceived design, as her years of experience have given her an instinctive sense of how to arrange the material. However, there is one self-imposed
rule that she follows. “I have always tried to keep true to the plants, so if the flowers grow in an upright fashion, I like to present them like that,” she says. “If they hang down, like those of wisteria do, I will present them in that way. It’s a kind of rule of mine, as I want to be honest to the plant; a bit like a botanist.”
As she arranges the plants on the clay, Chrissy sometimes takes them slightly apart, unfolding leaves or petals. She also overlays different leaves, as she enjoys the effect this creates. “The clay is so fine that it’s very responsive, and if you overlap two leaves, you will be able to see both. It’s amazing that you can get a third or fourth dimension in 2mm of clay.” Over the years, the designs have evolved, and she now favours a simpler layout. “I have learned that less is more,” she says. “I used to cover the whole clay, and the lamps became very busy, so it is a real discipline to learn when to stop.” When she is happy with the layout, Chrissy gently rolls the plants into the clay with her rolling pin. They are then carefully pulled off, and the resulting indentations create the subtle patterns that decorate the lamps.
Shaping the lamp
After she has finished pressing the flat clay, Chrissy has to shape it into a vase form. She uses a former, made out of a cardboard cylinder, to help with this part of the process, carefully wrapping the clay around it. “You have to choose the perfect moment. It has to be dry enough to stand up, but if it is too dry, it won’t roll round the former,” she explains. The two ends of the sheet of clay are then joined together using slip; a wet clay mixed with water that acts as a type of glue. “You paint it on, then walk away for a couple of hours and hope for the best.”
In the past, Chrissy used to join the clay together using what she calls ‘corset buttons’, made out of nichrome wire pins. The exposed ends of the pins were covered with decorative porcelain buttons that she made in a mould.
Although this form of join was very attractive, now that she
has learned how to make the sheets of clay so much thinner, they are no longer necessary, because the slip is enough to hold the two ends together.
Finishing touches
Once the vase shape has been created, Chrissy has to add the base. These are circular slabs, which she joins to the tube form using slip.
Although the bases are never seen when the lamps are in use, each one is imprinted with a pattern of antique lace. “I love lace, so I like to add these secret elements, which people often don’t even realise are there,” she explains.
The lamp is now ready to be fired in the kiln; a process that takes 12 hours. When they come out of the kiln, the lamps often have a few rough fragments, so Chrissy rubs them down with a carborandum stone, often used for sharpening knives. It acts as sandpaper and, after approximately an hour’s work, gives the porcelain surface a smooth finish. The final stage is adding the light fitting. Chrissy glues the fitting to the base of the vessel, then pokes
“Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower”
William Wordsworth, ‘“There!” said a Stripling’
“In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present”
Francis Bacon
the wire through a small hole at the back before adding the plug. Each light takes at least a day to make, although Chrissy rarely works on just a single light, from start to finish, at a time.
Transformed by light
It is only when the lamp is completely finished, and she is able to turn it on, that Chrissy can see the full effect of the patterned clay. “They are one thing when they are off and something completely different when they are on,” she says. “They are really transformed by adding light. It’s like a little bit of magic.” The light shines through the outlines of the plants, as the clay in these areas has been thinned by the pressing process. so is more translucent. Every tiny detail, from the finest lines in a leaf’s skeleton to the individual seedheads on a stalk of grass, is lit up, as though a photograph has been printed in the clay.
The lamps are a means of capturing the beauty of the natural world, and Chrissy likes the way they encourage people to look at plants in more detail. “People often go away from my shows saying they are going to have a look at the things I have shown them because they had no idea that there was so much around, and that’s a nice thing to have given away for free,” she says.
As well as encouraging people to look again at the world around them, she also loves the fact that her lights preserve the beauty of summer in the dark of winter. “I hope that my lights will help remind people of the warmer months,” says Chrissy. “One client told me: ‘It’s like turning the summer on’, and I thought that was really lovely.”