the destiny of clay
Back when the first diggers came to break the land and clear a big hole for the building site we found layers of pure grey Umbrian clay clumped within the clots of old field. It was still pretty muddy since they also found a free-flowing underground spring below the property! (more on this later) so the clay was just seen as swaths of light grey smeared within the warm tones of freshly dug soil.
Then when the process came to dig the deep, narrow holes for the steel pylons, the huge industrial drill would unwind itself back up out of the ground and within its steel curved apparatus huge chunks of pure grey sections would be shaken out next to the hole along with meters and meters of packed earth layers, stones, and silt. I asked for a large piece of the clay, one that seemed to barely have touched the soil, and looked very clean of debris.
It was so much heavier than I expected, but as I held it, I immediately had an idea to use this exact lump of clay to create something that made its way back into the house as a permanent fixture at the end of the project. I wasn’t sure what it was going to be but I knew that that heavy clod of clay had a place somewhere - so I lugged it back home to decide.
Soon after is when our quarantine time here started and I thought that this time would be perfect to get to know the clay, work the material, and decide on a design. After cleaning the clay and filtering out any rogue pieces of soil or stone, I began to play around with various ideas and criteria. Since I knew I wouldn’t want it to be a lose piece of pottery that could potentially get smashed (like a bowl or a vase), I weighed several options before the final idea came to mind which seemed to be exactly what this piece of “argilla” was destined for: an “edicola votiva” - a built shrine.
I’ve always adored these little wall nooks that exist all around Italy, and have collected many many photos through the years of ones that I’ve passed. You find them anywhere from stand-alone fixtures off roads, build into niches in large stone property walls, or on the sides of buildings in city centers. They are everywhere - mostly all with an image of the Madonna, but sometimes the Christ or saints, and even some are left empty of imagery and only filled with whatever those who come to pray have left (small picture frames of loved ones, rosaries, candles, flowers). There is even a makeshift Mary next door to the property who just sits in the nook of a tree with no formal shrine, but always with flowers and candles.
I have a slight obsession with these shrines as well as others that I’ve encountered during my travels - colorful multi-faith shrines in Goa, India - a region which combines the Catholic beliefs (from old Portuguese influence) with the traditional Hindu, and also the ornate and ever-present shrines that fill almost every inch of Bali. There, offerings are given many times each day for various reasons - but the scent of incense and fresh flowers is always lingering in the air and each time I visit, I find myself sucked into the rhythm of the ceremony. Making an offering, saying a prayer, remembering to be grateful, and having a physical space in which to do so as a symbol of ritual.
This brings be back to the clay. I’ve many times mentioned wanting to place one of these votive somewhere - the most obvious place would be on wall by the entrance gate (very reminiscent of “Under the Tuscan Sun” ). But now I’ve worked on the clay to create a simple shrine which can be built into a wall. After I make the finishing touches (then we go to a brick-maker to ask if we can fire it in their kiln) I’m hoping to fit it in the entrance area of the house where there is a small, covered outside area before the front door. Here, with flowers in the Etruscan-inspired attached vase, it will welcome guests, serve as a blessing, and be a nice reminder of that ever-need to be grateful.