LOST FEATU R E
The
hands have
Memory
A
white bowl with grey protruding scars like brush strokes. Its title; intense silence, falling leaves.
When confronted by Petrus Spronk’s pottery work, the view is instantly aware the objects are telling a story deeper than a ceramic offering. “It is one of the most primitive forms of making. People forget about the power in their hands. I believe, the hands have memory.” There is a weight to his art work that’s impossible to define with language, like the great sculptures of the world they become entangled with time, remnants of the past. He laughs, “I didn't decide to become an artist, I just became one.” Petrus’ story begins with an observation from his high school teacher, “he told my father I was too creative for my own good. My father and my mother took me to a counsellor who said, ‘if he can’t use his head, let him use his hands.’ The interesting
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thing is that after many years I'm using my head.” After attending a baking course, Petrus ventured out to art school in South Australia. “I was introduced to clay besides other interesting ideas in the 60s. And then I hitchhiked around the world for eight years.” As part of his adventure, Petrus walked around the island of Samos in Greece. “I found all these big pieces from ancient buildings lying around, like pieces of sculpture left behind in the landscape.” He adds, “Sometimes there are no words for these feelings that you get. It reminded me of a poem, Ozymandias by Shelley. It’s about somebody who was powerful, made out of marble just laying in the desert.” These experiences would become the basis for Petrus’ iconic sculpture of an ancient library sinking into the road outside the state library of Victoria on Swanston street. When asked about his transition to pottery, Petrus quips, “I have no idea. Somebody