I am writing this almost two months after the event, but the memories are as lucid and as relentless Pezenas sun... They have not faded and will continue to glisten in my thoughts.
I flew away from hectic London to Paris and rushed to catch my connecting flight to Montpelier. In the departure lounge I met Emil Adamec, we know each other previously as participants in another symposium that took place in Izola last year. He has a genuine calming nature about him - I felt at ease. He said two more sculptors should be on the same flight, so on the plane we were both rubbernecking to see if we could locate them. Emil knew Chris Peterson; he described him as very tall and thin. It was then we saw a seated man whose head was way above everyone else's... that was Chris for sure. Emil called to him; his eyes were clear and bright, with a brilliant smile to match. It was monumental talk for the rest of the journey, much to the dismay of the lady seated next to us - all of us beaming and rearing to go. It turns out that Michele Valenza had missed his flight and would arrive later.
Waiting to collect us at arrivals was Dann Cherit, a slim amiable looking French man with dark hair and a calm robust face, his eyes were fixed, but I could sense his tense anticipation. He was very happy to see us and said he had shed a few tears earlier, overwhelmed by the great task that he and his wife, Fabienne, had surmounted. Years of hoping, planning, focused action and organisation were about to take seed and make roots in reality.
When we arrived at the Tannerie, it was quiet, the sun was harsh and the air was very still. The large interior was cool and shady, there was a permanent exhibition of Dann's erotic art; paintings, sculptures in stone and mixed media - a visual feast for the eyes.
Outside were the stones, which would be chosen on a first come first serve basis. I took my sandals off donned my peak cap and shorts and wandered around alone barefooted, trying to soak in all the new sights. Eyes squinted, I breathed in deeply, the air was warm and fresh - I began pensively to make intimate connections with the surroundings.
The time was here. Thirteen sculptors from across the globe were gathering at La Tannerie, so named because it was previously a slaughterhouse and a place where leather hides were cured. There was no apparent evidence of it's previous use, no death here only more Life...
There would be nine days for each of us to carve a rough block of stone on average a tonne in weight in accordance to the theme 'Messages of the Body'. Work would be done with hand tools only, us sculptors carving side-by-side. It was bewildering to see all the stones paraded in a line, each one with a closed parasol standing guard. There they stood patiently waiting to be touched and changed forever... Admittedly, in that moment I felt a surge of confusion and self-doubt... so I reached in and asked for a strength and guidance, this silenced those quiverings just as quickly as they appeared in my mind. More sculptors began to arrive in ones and twos; some were accompanied by their wives and children, others by their toolboxes and Artworks for display. The moment was ripening and I could taste the sweetness of creative inspiration. There would be no physical work that day.
The stone was a French limestone, known locally as calcite. I'm not sure why I chose the one I did. I suppose liked the oxidized colouration and the three holes made by the industrious quarry drills that had broken into her virgin body... Her flesh was a chalky white, the first time I had worked on stone with so little colour or apparent grain to guide me, light and shadow would be her accent and her dance. When work began, so did the music, each artist playing a percussion of rhythmic beats on their stone that blended together to become one melody.
Beginning work for me, as usual, was a serendipitous affair - I just started chiseling. As part of the application we had to send a sketch of our proposed work. I referred to it as a guide, but it is not what I made, not exactly anyway... those forms were not within the stone and predetermining exactly what I will make is not my way of expression, most especially without seeing and touching the material first hand. So that's how my personal quest began...
For me, an international symposium is not just a meeting of artists; it is a meeting of minds, visions and cultures. It is an opportunity to widen everything about yourSelf, a time of learning and sharing - a chance to open fresh pathways for communication and break down existing barriers using the language of art. Life is the greatest masterpiece there is...
The nine days were as positively intense reflecting the heat of the mid-day sun. We spent every waking and working moment together and became siblings in creativity. In our differences we found many common threads that could bind our individual stories into one... and from there friendships were able to grow and fill the void that in truth probably never existed. And as each stone revealed the Soul of its sculptor so did each day bring us closer together.
Of the three symposiums I have had the privilege of taking part in up to this point, this was the first where I was not the only woman and that for me was glorious. Francoise Kurtz a veteran sculptor in her own right, Natalie Staniforth and mySelf were to bring our diverse feminine energies to stones in a circumstance that in my limited experience is dominated by men. We flexed our muscles and carved with artistic valour to make our imaginations become tangible.
This symposium was also particularly unique, because not only did the public have a chance to see and talk with the artists at work, but every evening we were treated to a fiesta of music from around the globe, from homegrown reggae to indie and samba; plus much more besides... It was a visual and audio delight for us all including the 3,000 visitors that became an integral part of this great experience. Everyone who came through the gates was a participant.
The morning after the last day was somber affair, my aching muscles and blistered hands were bewildered; it had come to an abrupt end. We dispersed as we arrived... in ones and twos, leaving a part of ourselves behind etched in eternity of the stone...
Thank you to Dann, Fabienne, Alex and Luna...
Bon Courage!
Nyanda Yekwai,
published on her Creative journal
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