Earthy orbs with a gleaming core
Ceramicist Siobhan Newton captures the raw beauty of a rugged landscape in her gilded spheres
Rays of light streaming into a cow byre bring a rich red glow to a ceramic globe inlaid with metal, as it sits on a wooden workbench. Inspired by the surrounding countryside, the rough-surfaced, pale pink globe is a thing of beauty, handcrafted by artist Siobhan Newton. For the last three years, she has been working in the converted stone building on the CumbrianLancashire border, creating her unique pieces. She calls them microcosms, as, to her, they represent miniature worlds. Made from clay, some have smooth surfaces. Others are embedded with dust, gravel or local ores, the uneven rim depicting the mountainous skyline of the Lake District. All open up to reveal a shining, often gilded, interior which catches the light. “I do not think they are bowls: they are a globe form,” says Siobhan. “You look at important things that are spherical: planets, the eggs from which life comes. They are all spherical.” Her pieces vary from 2¾in (7cm) in diameter up to 19½in (50cm), all slightly different in colour and finish. Gleaming in the pale sunlight, they are displayed on a wooden shelving unit in her workshop. A few feet away is her worktable, piled up with moulds and tubs full of glazes and granite shards. It is a quiet, peaceful environment where, from the large double-glazed doors, she can see glimpses of green fields and trees in the surrounding countryside. In the corner of the workshop is the kiln she shares with her husband, potter Martin Miles-Moore. Their joint pieces are lined up on another shelving unit a few feet away, awaiting firing. The clay from which she creates her work sits wrapped in sealed plastic to stop it drying out. Every day, she works the medium; cutting, rolling and shaping it before it is fired and glazed. Today, she works in what she describes as an informal apprenticeship with her husband. She is no newcomer to clay though, having first used it at school in Lancashire. “My teacher was a thwarted potter, I think. Most of our art lessons were clay related. I still have lamp bases I made then.” However, despite taking O-levels in art, design and needlework, she took a different direction, studying
for a business degree. It was more than two decades before she touched a piece of clay again. It was only following the death of her mother that she became inspired to revisit her artistic roots.
Returning to clay
First she started silversmithing classes, making rings for her 22 bridesmaids when she married four years ago. She also began painting again and using pastels. Then, when the couple moved back north, Martin decided to return to working with ceramics after a gap of many decades. They rented the barn, and he set to work, while Siobhan concerned herself with the business side of the venture. Over the years, Martin had suggested she should try working with clay again. Eventually, the lure of the medium became too much. “I started to play with offcuts to see how I could shape and mould them,” she says. “I have always thought I was impatient and clumsy, but there’s a sense of connection with clay. It’s very sensuous and sensual. It connects with the ground. It feels nice, and there’s something very playful about it. There are so many things I could do; an endless sense of possibility.” What she did do was start to produce her first microcosms. Their success is reflected in her presence, last year, on the longlist for the prestigious John Ruskin Prize, which celebrates creative and innovative work by artists, makers and craftspeople.
Taking shape
Each of Siobhan’s microcosms is created from white crank clay, which is coarsely textured and ideal for hand moulding. It is delivered from Stoke-on-Trent in 12.5kg weights. She chooses this because it is robust and holds its shape. Depending on the size of the finished object, she takes a piece of clay weighing between 1¾oz (50g) and 11lbs (5kg). Then, with a wire cutter, she slices a 1cm piece, in a straight line, off the edge. She places the cut-off piece of clay between two pieces of heavy
“Is it wise, then, say, in the waning day, When the vessel is crack’d and old, To cherish the battered potter’s clay, As though it were virgin gold” Adam Lindsay Gordon, ‘Potters’ Clay’
twill cotton before pushing them through a roller she describes as being like a large pasta roller. This thins the clay, and is usually repeated eight to 10 times. Each time she puts the clay through, the rollers are tightened to make it thinner, until it reaches ⅜in (1cm). “I do it slowly and little by little,” she says. Using a kidney-shaped plastic scraper, called a rib, she then removes the texture imprinted from the cloth on both sides of the clay. The clay will make two to four microcosms, depending on the size of the globe being created. More than a dozen clay moulds she has made are piled up beside her workbench, measuring from 3in (8cm) in diameter to 2ft (60cm), although the finished pieces are generally 15 per cent smaller. Using a potter’s knife, a ¾in (2cm) strip of the clay is cut off. This will be used to create the rim later on. Siobhan cuts out a circle in the remaining clay to the required size, removing a V-shape section, like a slice taken out of a pie. This will enable it to be folded to fit inside the mould as the sides of the V are brought together. She then wets the clay and pushes it into the mould, folding and squashing it into place with her hands until it is an even 5mm in thickness all over. Once in position, another rib is used to ensure the clay is firmly against the sides. The rim is built up by adding some clay and water, known as slip, to the edge and pressing on the extra strip of clay, smoothing it in place with the rib. Siobhan then creates the distinctive skyline by pinching and pulling out pieces of the clay. On removing the bowl from the mould, she smooths the inside and outside further, using both her hands and the ribs. More slip is then applied to the outer surface and the globe is rolled in finely ground pink granite,
collected from a quarry 25 miles to the north, in Shap. She places the piece on a water resistant shelving system near the electric kiln for between 12 hours and four days to dry. “One of the arts is to ensure slow drying, as the pieces are fragile at this stage.” The vagaries of working with an organic substance mean there is no absolute rule to how long it takes. “Until it is ready is the answer,” she says. The clay has dried sufficiently when it lightens to a taupe colour. To harden it, the globe is then fired in the kiln, which can reach 1,000°C, depending on how many pieces are packed into it. It is in the kiln for approximately 36 hours, but only a third of that time is for heating the piece; the rest is to allow it to cool in place. This first, or biscuit, firing turns the clay a pale peach colour. Siobhan examines how the shape has changed, as the clay’s expansion and contraction during the firing process means it can sometimes warp, crack or even collapse. If it comes out of the kiln in perfect condition, she decides how it should be glazed. On this occasion, she dips the globe in her home-made pink glaze, fills in any gaps with a watercolour brush and leaves it to dry overnight before firing again. Siobhan and Martin create their own glazes. “There’s a huge seam of granite, part pink and part blue, at the quarry,” says Siobhan. “It’s a volcanic material, full of feldspar and quartz found in glazes.” They regularly visit Shap to collect the 2mm granite gravel, which is ground by a small Cornish company. Other materials they use for glazes include slate from Coniston, Cumbria, and wood ash from Halton, Lancashire. In the future, she not only hopes to use local clay, but also grind her own materials for glazes.
A shining finish
Most of her microcosms are distinguished by their metallic interior. In the corner of her workshop, gold leaf and other types of metal gilding are kept safe in a wooden box. Carefully, Siobhan selects marbled silver blush, and with her fingers, tears the gild. After applying adhesive to the inside, she slowly uses her fingers to push the jigsaw of pieces together, being careful not to make them too uniform. “Our eyes are always drawn to straight lines,” she says. “I am creating a deliberate pattern; some sort of coherence.” Usually, she applies two to three layers inside, before finishing with three coats of lacquer. Finally, the globe is placed on a shelf surrounded by dozens of others, all awaiting a new owner. Siobhan likes to see her microcosms displayed properly “with space around them”. This echoes her love of the place she was born and brought up, and to which she has returned. “It’s easier to be creative when you are surrounded by the countryside,” she explains from the peaceful barn. “There’s something about how important it is to human beings to connect with the landscape. The joy comes from stuff fitting into its new environment.” And it is her environment with which she has strong ties that is now providing such creative inspiration.