Metamorphosis

The OED (yes, I know; forgive me, it's the - by now almost latent - translator in me. It has been, and cleary will remain to be, my first source of reference in whatever I write or read) defines metamorphosis as: 'The action or process of changing in form, shape or substance. Change of form in animals and plants, or their parts, during life. The change of form which goes on in the elements of living organic structures.'
As I said in a previous posting, I am currently taking part in a weekly seminar exploring metamorphosis.
We've reached stage 5 by now. All the forms up to this stage are hand-forms, i.e. they fit into the hand and are meant to be held, not presented on a base.
Stage 1: we started off with an archetypal form, the saddle plane, which is a convex inside a concave, the convex moving in one direction and the concave moving at a right angle to it (like the saddle in horseriding, or a Pringle, but more accentuated). We started from a disc,which was then pushed into a shape that resembles a Pringle and then manipulated further to obtain the saddle-like shape.
The saddle plane is totally symmertrical and the symmetry makes it feel very still, even though there appears to be a lot of movement. The trick to making this form interesting despite its symmetry is to avoid parallels.
To really get the form moving, however, you need to come out of the symmetry; that's when it begins to twist and turn. And that's when it gets really exciting - although there's also something very exciting about working with symmetry: when you achieve a stillness, a self-contained, but not restrained, quiet.
But within the remit of this exercise, there is first Stage 2 to work through:
Stage 2: taking the archetypal form and making it very young and doughy - young because it has no edges yet; like a baby all round and cuddly, maturity brings the edges. The process basically involves adding small amounts of clay to the initial archetype, and it's amazing how different the form begins to feel as more substance is added and how it begins to express something different. It sits solidly in your hand, pertly self-contained.
Stage 3: the doughy, young form comes out of its symmetry, and now it can really begin to move (although I haven't achieved as much movement as there could be, but I am working within the restraints of the exercise, i.e. a slow, gradual transformation from the basic shape into another).
Stage 4: from the fat to the thin. This was a very enjoyable experience for me, as, rather than adding clay, this required pressing the clay between the fingers to make it thinner. This brings a levity to the whole form - and within me as a person - and allowed me much more to go with where the clay wanted to move to. The movement seemed to come from the form rather than being imposed by me, which means that it is more consquential as a result.
This stage highlighted again how strongly I am affected by the form I'm working on: a gentle, quiet form makes me feel quiet and settled, and a turbulent form can bring about a maelstrom within me, so much so I sometimes have to abandon it all together.
Stage 5: a combination of thick and thin, with edges - this no longer has the doughiness of youth. A lot of movement, coming and going, a real playfulness.
Images to follow once I've had a chance to 'tidy up' the five forms. They first need to dry out (which takes quite a while in the autumnal weather) before I can start to file (using a riffler) and sand (with sandpaper) them.