It‘s 28th July and today I fired my third grief doll. Each time I fire one of these sacred little figures I am honouring Manfred. To fire my clay is to witness the transformative process from one state of being to another. The clay can never be returned to its former malleable state. Similarly when death occurs there is a finality. However much we yearn for our loved one to return they are gone - at least in the familiar, physical form we once knew them.
For me, the process of firing has become a way of coming to terms with - a way of accepting death as an irreversible transition.
I don't usually fire my clay, so committing
these tiny figures to the kiln is a
powerfully symbolic action.
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