Among rocks and trees
Monday, 02 June 2014 17:28
Written by Cristina Riveroll
Living in this constantly growing city, she has never ceased to be amazed by Nature. Rocks and trees in particular have been a source of silent inspiration for her. She is as moved by the texture and shape of a stone by the sea as by an enormous crag in the tomb of a Persian king. Her eyes see abstract paintings in a wet, decaying tree trunk, or on the ground covered in autumn leaves.
Her sculptural vocation is expressed in her pottery, in which she seeks to capture in the volume of her pieces the violent movement of tree trunks, the sensual gestures of human body and the solitary restfulness of a rock. All her pieces, though they resemble rocks, calcified corals or old trunks, are as delicate as human skin. Creating these fine textures from clay requires extremely sensitive hands. Despite their elemental, vital force, her works inspire silence and meditation, and their shapes and textures whisper a gentle chant, as though the wind were blowing around them. Yet it is not the wind that gives them their shape, but the soft hands of the potter caressing the clay.
Riverol was born in 1953 in Mexico City.
Living in this constantly growing city, she has never ceased to be amazed by Nature. Rocks and trees in particular have been a source of silent inspiration for her. She is as moved by the texture and shape of a stone by the sea as by an enormous crag in the tomb of a Persian king. Her eyes see abstract paintings in a wet, decaying tree trunk, or on the ground covered in autumn leaves.
Her sculptural vocation is expressed in her pottery, in which she seeks to capture in the volume of her pieces the violent movement of tree trunks, the sensual gestures of human body and the solitary restfulness of a rock. All her pieces, though they resemble rocks, calcified corals or old trunks, are as delicate as human skin. Creating these fine textures from clay requires extremely sensitive hands. Despite their elemental, vital force, her works inspire silence and meditation, and their shapes and textures whisper a gentle chant, as though the wind were blowing around them. Yet it is not the wind that gives them their shape, but the soft hands of the potter caressing the clay.