Home | dianadixon

Welcome and thank you for visiting my site...

This page is representative of my work in ceramic sculpture and poetry.

My art statement is 'Diana' and the galleries are images of my current work and poetry pages. These pages will be updated in the summer of 2020 so please scroll through them from time to time...

In 2017, I was part of a six women show at The Morvah Galleries showing new work

produced following my Stroke. Some of the images reproduced here are indicative of my journey back to health. Many of the sculptures are departures from my usual themes of 'mother and child', birds, animal studies and the abstracted human form. Instead of

mass there is space and inner complexity of movement - all abstract representations of my inner journey and I have continued this representation throughout 2017 - 2020.

These images can be found here on the home page and in the Gallery.

In 2018, I rejoined Open Studios after an absence of several years. I used the stoneware

white clay and continued the exploration of mass, space and relationship to gravity, which is always an essential component of my work. Work can be viewed in the Gallery and on this page and will be updated for Open Studies 2020. (Please see the schedule outlined)

1n 2019, I was delighted to be part of a series of shows to be held at The Hypatia Trust,

Chapel Street, Penzance. The vision of art director Delpha Hudson, who has developed

her idea as a 'conglomerate' - combining sculptor's work for a 'happening' - on show in the Hypatia space. My exhibition was in May. The six to eight sculptures displayed on plinths were themed 'Mother and Child' and will be a retrospective, as well as new work produced this winter. In February 1978 I had the honour of spending an afternoon with Henry Moore. He talked about influences from ancient civilisations; the truth to

materials are recurring themes and the role of inspiration: "There is no such thing as inspiration, only hard work." True to his teaching I have sculpted the human form,

especially the mother and child for over forty years - with one major innovation: Henry Moore's work has a very solid base, my work - from my student days - has exploited the natural force of gravity and, latterly, space between the mass. Please scroll through the images, either on this home page or the gallery

The Henry Moore Foundation has said I could use my notes and quotes written during the meeting, and I have submitted a copy to be stored in their archives. These images can be seen in 'Gallery 3' A new page, so please note it is a seperate exhibition, thanks.

ART SHOWS AND POETRY EVENTS in 2020

Open Studios Cornwall - August 26th August - 6th September

I exhibited 'BIRDS 3' - new ceramic and cement fondue sculpture, using a variety of different finishes: glaze, bitumen, acrylics, fire and water etc. My kiln needs

repairing and, under the Covid 19 restrictions, the Northern Kilns engineer (based in Yorkshire) has a waiting list! I sold two birds, very reluctantly! Made during lockdown they held all my angst and desperate need for freedom, so I have attachment issues that I have to resolve by getting back to work as soon as possible. The images of the new birds that were exhibited are going to be displayed in Gallery 4.

P0ETRY - 2020

I am delighted to be featured in The HypatiaTrust anthology of new writings by Cornish authors and poets, 'Invisible Borders' - the brainchild of editor, Linda Cleary. In this anthology I am using a new poetic form for me - I have edited 'down to the bone' and I hope the very sparse use of words will highlight the content of the poems.

I am preparing two short stories for The Society of Authors competition, not very hopeful but worth a punt: 'The Velvet Coat' and 'Isaac's Story' - both stories depicting survival of the Holocaust.

Submitting 'The Hand Tools' Sex Directory' to Myslexia pamphlet competiton 07/12/20

Also in the pipeline is the second Poetry Society's Penzance Stanza's group publication of their second anthology of poetry, possibly ready for the new year, 2021.

PERSONAL DECISION: I have very sadly decided that my poetry performance 'reads' have come to an end. It has become harder each time, owing to my 'nervous legs' and I don't look forward to the excitement of performing to an audience. Instead I will try to

concentrate on editing many years of work and will employ a professional editor to help

me to 'send out' the finished work, though a poem may never be finished!

Mother and Child. 155cms x 60cms

"The problem for me is finding the truth

in the 'form' of the sculpture."

Henry Moore

Studio view - March 2019

"The butterfly counts not months

but moments, and has time enough."

Rabindranath Tagore

The Senses 50cms x 40cms

Primigravida - 2019

I ""Those who flow as life

flows know they need no

other force." Lao Tzu

"There is no such thing as inspiration,

only hard work." Henry Moore

February 1978

Artemis. 27cm x 11cm.

Sculpture

Aftermath. 27cm x 11cm.

"My destination is no longer a

place, but a new way of seeing."

Marcel Proust

I began sieving the clay streams near my home in Tywardreath, Cornwall when I was ten years old. I instinctively knew to sieve all debris, mostly rotting vegetation and small pebbles, before drying the clay on granny’s washing board. When it was malleable I fashioned figurines of the neighbourhood dogs and cats. So began a life time of working with clay.

Gravity fascinates me. The theme of my work evokes the brink of gravity, the very edge of falling and an uncomfortable sense of foreboding. Thwarting gravity fascinates me even more: balance and counter-balance are the key figures in exploring the poised point; the apex of the fall...

My early work influenced by Henry Moore

"The main thing is to be moved,

to love, to hope, to tremble, to live..."

Auguste Rodin

Poetry

I have been writing and performing poetry for decades. Initially at the Poetry Society, Earl’s Court, and two fringe theatres: The Bush and The King’s Head, Islington. Twenty two years ago I moved to Penzance and joined the much-missed Penzance Arts Club. The well-known poet Bob Deveroux regularly performed there, and he introduced me to the local arts community. With his encouragement I began to perform my work – using a range of dialects and with the audience's participation. Nearly two

decades later I have reluctantly decided to end my poetry performances. Please read...

My poems reflect the 'warp and weft' of living. Sometimes they are sad and painful,

often they are humorous. Always they seek our vulnerability and mortality - hopefully with a gentle 'eye' - whilst I explore the themes of loss, love, illness, dementia and death.

I WISH

I hadn't closed the gate,

it was only a gate-type of gate

but it closed you off from me forever.

Looking back I saw my footprints

on the lichened path.

I saw your windows shaded by shadows

and quiet dust motes settling for the night.

Pathos. 42cm x 18cm.

HANDS

Oaken our hands laden with age,

lichened with destiny,

etched with old grievances.

FACES

Old sorrows runneled

into cleats of misgiving.

BODIES

Gentle byways running

bare-faced with artifice, lying.

Aftermath. 27cm x 11cm.

Pathos. 42cm x 18cm

Hands. 50cm x 33cm.

DOLMAN POINT

Fishing, fishing

Casting and reeling

Laughing at seagulls

Feeling love

Watching our mackerel

Sky unfold

Leaning, leaning

Laughter turns to keening

I am falling

Falling

Deep

Into the

Blue water

Screaming, screaming

Feeling

Sea-smoothed rocks

Soft as an eiderdown

Rocking me gently

Bidding me sleep

Rising, rising

Now on tiptoe

Agony a crescendo

Watching

My foetus

slide, like a

Working man's breakfast,

Beneath the blue water.

Mother and Child 75cms x 53cms

THE CRY

The deaf/blind seagull

crouched, listening for an echo.

The ancient crow watched,

head cocked, eyes skewing

as the maimed bird began

a walk into the

shadowed road wide as a

lifetime, narrow with seconds to live.

The raucked cry a rising

tremolo of grief,

the gull heard, heard and survived,

and already turning with waddling steps

eager, with intent,

to hear the crow's gentler cries.

MY PRAYER

It is the substance of my shadow,

it is the white space of my mind

and the kernel of my being.

It is the infinity of my thoughts.

It is the taproot and the lightening rod

of the commune with my God.

I'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. It's easy.

Reclining Figure. 50cm x 28cm

MANILLA PLACE

My mate Charlie Strode

lives in a box, a cardboard box,

a ‘des res’ - a Hitachi.

Comes with polystyrene walls,

and anti-damp sachets.

Ella Mount lives next door in a Sony,

a thirty-eight incher. Bijou,

compact, with nylon reinforcements

and big Velcroed flaps.

Tommy Grime lives in a palette frame.

Polythene windows and a raised platform

base, under floor heating too - if you

don’t mind the fug.

Pete Small lives in a White Knight combi

divided down the middle: fridge,

with poly walls one side,

freezer, with poly walls on the other.

Long Tall Sal lives in an Indesit.

Seven feet end to end - slim as a whistle.

Lined with bubble wrap,

and she’s got LED lighting.

My new box is coming tomorrow.

A Fridgidaire. Very basic.

No bells or smells.

Just two-ply manilla.

A snug fit though.

Probably my last one.

Fledgling Gull. 62cm x 45cm

The Stroke. 45cm x 29cm

Mother and Child nfs

THE ROSE-TINTED

SPECTACLES

Sat high on her nose,

so high she saw the sun glisten

and converge into twin orbs -

almost celestial their vision

as they watched, waited,

dipped in coy deference,

rose again, polished and

powerful – almost invincible

in their ability to perch

in their eerie safe from

flaying fingers clutching

an arm, defying cruel

gravity waiting its turn.

The rose-tinted spectacles

tilted in the mist, couldn’t

get a bearing – sought

to regain their balance, find

a centre-point, seek

out solutions, raised their arms

in supplication, changed their

position, sat lower on her

nose – to wait out the

murk and misdoubt

steaming their lenses,

clouding their vision,

fearing the worst.

The rose-tinted spectacles

slithered and slid

down they fell,

down, down,

into a place neither

knew – to where the

air was clear, where

her resting cheek

smiled, and her thoughts,

clear as crystal,

recognised you.

CHILDHOOD WOVEN

...Childhood lost

Already a spindle’s width

Of knowing the weft and

Knap

The threads of rekindled

Cloth

Already glowing like the

Curtain moth

Slowly closing the night

Wings ticking

Still the fluttering silence

Hanging still

Another flight tomorrow

Meandering threads

Tamped down yesterday

Woven silky tight

A teazled length almost

A bolt.

Almost ready for the paddling.

Memory has already

Forgotten

The

Weft.

White clay: Mother and Child 50cm x 22cm

Cormorant standing bowl p.c

"Look for a motive in your work. Repetition is growth, different but the same object matter."

Henry Moore

Sea Bird bowl 25cms x 17cms

STILL LIFE

Her limbs sat in still repose.

Not waiting, not hungry for movement.

Just unmoving, attached to something else, just resigned.

Just sitting in her chair – all the wheels aligned.

Silent, pensive, just waiting for a human hand.

For the signal to turn, to give her space, to move her.

Cormorant. 68cm x 37cm

Early Influences

I am influenced by archaic Greek sculpture (especially early Cycladic), crumbling medieval statuary and weathered coastal rock formations that I have observed all over Europe. Using clay, stone, wood, metal and water, I borrow from the Elements: taking oxides from the earth for colour and texture. Fire to transmute wood, clay and metal. Wind for movement and water, sometimes living flora to enhance or weather the form. I draw from emotive memories and combine them with new experiences which, through their fusion, create forms - whether abstract or representational that, hopefully, conveys an interactive response between the viewer and the piece of sculpture.