◄ Overview
Frances Palmer
Stoneware Eye Hieroglyph Cup, 2021
Wood fired stoneware eye hieroglyph cup with tea dust glaze inside and flashing slip outside
4.5 x 5.5 x 3.5 inches
Frances Palmer (b. 1956, Morristown, NJ, USA) has been thinking about Giorgio Morandi lately. And well she might. For her art, like that of the great Italian painter, is an art of placement — of getting things just right, not just the things themselves, but the intervals between them as well. The vessel forms she has been making are fired in a wood kiln and sheathed in shimmering Chinese-style glazes. To the knowing eye they betray Palmer’s deep technical expertise. And yet, at the same time, they could almost have been plucked, by her magical fingers, from Morandi’s canvases — an impression reinforced by her use of them to hold branches and blooms from the Stone Barns farm. It’s a humble enough gesture, pitchers with flowers in them. But in Palmer’s hands, that commonplace conjunction becomes artful performance. Still life tradition itself seems to take a bow, crowned with laurels. A little victory for what matters most.
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Stoneware Eye Hieroglyph Cup, 2021
Wood fired stoneware eye hieroglyph cup with tea dust glaze inside and flashing slip outside
4.5 x 5.5 x 3.5 inches
Frances Palmer (b. 1956, Morristown, NJ, USA) has been thinking about Giorgio Morandi lately. And well she might. For her art, like that of the great Italian painter, is an art of placement — of getting things just right, not just the things themselves, but the intervals between them as well. The vessel forms she has been making are fired in a wood kiln and sheathed in shimmering Chinese-style glazes. To the knowing eye they betray Palmer’s deep technical expertise. And yet, at the same time, they could almost have been plucked, by her magical fingers, from Morandi’s canvases — an impression reinforced by her use of them to hold branches and blooms from the Stone Barns farm. It’s a humble enough gesture, pitchers with flowers in them. But in Palmer’s hands, that commonplace conjunction becomes artful performance. Still life tradition itself seems to take a bow, crowned with laurels. A little victory for what matters most.
