Piled-up rolls of fabric, the steam of an iron, a ray of sun coming through a window: a man or a woman, carefully dressed and with pins stuck into a breast pocket or a flame-red pincushion, smiles and welcomes clients, the raw material for the creation of their sculpture.Copper thimbles, steel scissors, wooden tables; old sewing machines creak, a thread passes through the fabric; the orchestra of the needle.
Shaping of leaves, branches, flowers. The Labyrinth is its design, caressed by the wind in buzzes and deaf. Silence becomes music through patient hands, through orchestral gestures.Blooming touches, laces of petals that enclose pure elegance, spells of eternal shyness while blossoming.An intimate journey in beauty, in the sculpture of nature.
Shards of reflected light all around, the glow of raw gold, freshly-cut gemstones, tweezers rusty but still strong.Slowness, silence. A diamond is set, emotions are contained.The smell of worked metal; skilled hands shape the rubber to create the moulds, a glimmer of colours: ruby red, antique rose, chestnut and pearl grey, bright yellow, emerald green: the sky is blue.
Scent of damp earth and grey water, kneaded and compact. Muted sounds, patter of raindrops on cement floor, voices. Moulds ready to open, powdered plaster still poised, steady. While the wheel spins, a dance of rhythm and sensuality, skilled hands fashion the shape, tools control and design, wet sponge caresses. The kiln heats, the kiln fires; earth grows strong in its fragile nature.
Tools and hides lined up along the cork-clad wall or lying on the wood and steel table, tweezers working strands of leather. Sharp needles, battered moulds hold leather prototypes, fabric, rubber, the smell of glue heightens the emotions. Cardboard boxes and cotton sacks, brushes and wax for polishing, skilful hands for the ultimate artist’s touch.
