Meet the Maker: Into the Dark - In conversation with Marina Bauguil

Meet the Maker: Into the Dark - In conversation with Marina Bauguil

Image credit: Marina Bauguil 

Meet the Maker: Into the Dark - In conversation with Marina Bauguil

For our final Into the Dark Meet the Maker, we delved into the world of ceramicist Marina Bauguil, who shed light on the inspirations and process behind her beautiful creations.

Manchester-based Marina was born in Toulon, France, and spent her early years in Gabon and Alsace before settling in England. Her immersion in diverse landscapes and cultures nurtured a deep curiosity about the transience of existence. During her sculpture degree, she explored the role of art in human life, studying the primal art of various cultures and finding resonance in ritualistic and sacred objects.

Her hand-built figurative works reflect themes of Earth and Spirit, seeking to capture nature’s unseen essence and the quiet narratives of the subconscious. Through her practice, she investigates how objects shape our surroundings, our wellbeing, and our sense of self.

Image credit: Marina Bauguil 

What inspires your work? 

At its centre, my work is a reflection of my fascination with consciousness: what it means to be conscious, to live in and through it. How to put soul into an object has been my journey of exploration throughout my art practice. Nature itself is a great teacher; when we allow ourselves to receive it, we can experience a sense of union bathed in truth. The concept of the Anima Mundi (‘the soul of the world’ - the universe as a living being) encapsulates this idea, as I see and feel aliveness and interconnectedness in everything. These are some of the core qualities I endeavour to express through my pieces.

My art practice is really a quest for a universal language, and a way for me to use my experience of my feeling and sensorial systems to communicate, in the most primal form, a sense of belonging in the world and the vastness of the universe. The faces in my pieces express innocence as a principle state of purity, without the demands of social constructs. They are intended to receive the viewer in a direct exchange of pure essence.

Tell us a bit more about the inspiration for the pieces you have included in the Into the Dark showcase.

For the ‘Into the Dark’ showcase, I started exploring themes I associate with the dark. Some of these include snow, cold, decay, death, quietness, nocturnal animals and activities, the unknown, uncertainty, sleep, and silence. I thought about what it means to me to go into darkness and, in contrast, how light is a fundamental part of our lives. The dark makes me think of longer nights and winter time, with fire and gathering becoming essential for survival during those months. I explored the idea of the permeating, velvet-like substance that is darkness; how we respond to it emotionally, psychologically, and physically; and how it has movement and absorbs all things. 

As a response to my explorations, I made ‘Night Dance’ and ‘Night Descends Over the Mountains’. Both pieces delve into the idea of darkness as a being, a permeating force that both absorbs and contains light, as well as all physical things. I wanted to understand darkness as a natural force without judging it. When night descends, a merging occurs between the things we can normally see in the day (the known) and the darkness (the unknown). The Vulcan clay I used for these pieces has a high iron content, which when fired at stoneware temperature tends to absorb all colour. Because I wanted the clay to mature to its darkest tone, I had to reapply the coloured slips and fire them again but at a lower temperature to achieve the desired effect.

Tell us a bit more about your practice.

When I begin a piece of work, I tend to let the process evolve organically. I record my primary ideas in a sketchbook, and I use these drawings as a starting point rather than a firm blueprint. Then I will gather visual material such as colours, textures, techniques I want to try, found objects or things picked up in the woods, photographs, and drawings. I also select pieces of music that may evoke a feeling or attributes of the work I’m making and I will play that music all the way through the process for that piece. I have a lot of art books too, which I use as some of my most precious companions for reference.

Then I start making and have to solve the puzzle of how to build the piece; my work is all hand-built, but I use a variety of techniques to construct it. My pieces are often a combination of assembled sections, coiling in parts, sculpting, modelling, and carving. I may begin with a flat base and build up from there, or I will use slabs to start, then add coils and pieces of clay and the base will go on last. The work will be refined at different stages, with slips, oxides, underglazes and glazes applied, usually in quite a minimal way.

Describe your workspace.

My studio space has greatly shaped my practice. For a number of years I worked in the cellar of a large Victorian house, but when it was sold I ‘temporarily’ relocated to the utility room in my home. I’ve been there ever since and although the space is small and I share it with the washing machine, it has forced me to be more organised. There’s plenty of light and I have ample shelving for all my materials, a sink, and a good-sized working surface, and my kiln is in the coal shed nearby. I love being in my studio: it feels peaceful and light. In the past, I had always made large work, so adapting to a smaller workspace forced me to change my practice. This was quite a challenge at first, as working small-scale requires a lot of focus. Small pieces are a one-to-one experience - they draw you in and invite intimacy. You can’t have a crowd of people looking at something that is only 4cm high! Thanks to that ‘unfortunate’ house sale and relocation to my utility room, the work I make today was born. 

Who has influenced & inspired you?

I am very eclectic when it comes to inspiration. Nothing is ever off the table! I respond primarily to things that move me, and over time I have found that those things are quieter and smaller; it might be a moment where the sun makes the water of a river shimmer and dance, or a particular portion in a piece of music that invokes a memory or story. My admiration and awe for the natural world are a central part of my creative practice.

Primal art is a big influence of mine. I have always been fascinated by the use of art and artefacts in spiritual, ritualistic, and healing practices. A few examples include: the Ibeji figures from the Yoruba of South West Nigeria, which are used to house the soul of a dead twin; the Nkisi Nkondi of Kongo Zaire, used for healing, wishes, and intentions; the Dogū artefacts of ancient Japan; the Siva-Lingam and lïnga-yoni of India; and the sacred art of Tibet and its prayer-filled Buddhas.

Other influences include arts and crafts practices ranging from Japanese woodblock prints to drawings from the European Renaissance, as well as textiles, music, poetry, paintings, and sculptures. I have also been inspired and influenced by innumerable artists. To list them all here would be impossible, but here are a few examples: Rodin, Elizabeth Frink, Andy Goldsworthy, and Anna Maria Pacheco, plus ceramic artists like Akiko Takamori, Claire Curneen, Marlene Hartmann Rasmussen, Nathalie Doyen, Shozo Michikawa, and Cristina Córdova.

For me, all these influences and inspirations help to create a sense of belonging to a continuum of human expression and creation. I believe that all creativity and creative objects are essential medicine for the human soul.

What is your favourite piece or design you have made?

I have many favourite pieces! They are usually the works that have challenged me during the making process and have made my practice evolve in some way. My current favourite is ‘Night Dance’. It was initially inspired by the movement of night creatures such as fireflies and moths, who are respectively carriers and searchers of light in the darkness. I wanted the figure to embody the wisdom of the dark, with a sense of movement, permeating through time and space. I looked at some modern dance movements, night insect flights, and ancient cave drawings. I used scraffito for the insects and movement patterns, which was the perfect technique to invoke the way in which things are embedded within darkness; once night descends, it absorbs all.

‘Night Dance’ is a reminder that darkness can contain light. Even during the darkest times, something bright is stirring its way through, and day will eventually come. The art of living through darkness lies in our ability to dance with it.

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