1′9″H, 10″W, 7″Dia


Chasing the form

I felt an energy uplifting or rising upward, twisting or curling around and then spreading or launching out. That was it, and that was all that was needed to start “chasing” the form. Start building up sculptural wax and or feel which direction it wanted to go. Build up, scrape off, repeat, repeat. Wax on, wax off until it feels just right.

When I sculpted in wood, I was open to what Nature served up. It was a cooperative venture. Now, using an amorphous material, the principal motivation is to close my eyes and sense energy flow.

Sorry, that’s the best explanation of what comes next.

Creating this piece

Not starting with my usual wax cylinder. Instead, a wax “build” from scratch evolves to finished wax…
and the glass form “divested” of casting material at the foundry surprises us with a second color!

Dark brown sculptural wax in a weird shape. Looks like a stick figure person seated on a tree stump, slumped against a pole.
Stick-figure beginning to Feminique.
Another weird wax build-up. Looks kind of like a construction crane. No evidence of the stick-figure in previous photo.
Looks somewhat like a construction crane.
Dark brown wax form with vague resemblance to the ultimate sculpture. Large negative space framed by twisted structure on left and bent arch on right.
Vague, very vague likeness to final piece.
A slightly progressed view of the reverse side of the wax sculpture in the previous image. Perhaps slightly smoothed out. Intriguing.
Squinting may help. She’s in there!
FINISHED WAX. This is an image of Feminique when she was the finished wax sculpture that the foundry turned into glass. It is dark brown and as smooth as a baby's cheek.
Told you! The finished wax of Feminique.
Feminique after kiln casting. Rough surface requires weeks of work to become a Pollitt glass sculpture.
Kiln casting reveals unexpected 2nd color

More to the story.

While you see the outcome, there is a backstory. This piece suffered a thwarting “bump” that sidelined it for years. It waited, tucked in a corner, never out of sight, wondering when I’d figure out if — and how — it could be saved.

Read the rest of Feminique’s story here.