"For 20 years, I've constructed horses, many embellished with designs from clay stamps I've made. If nobody wanted the horses, I'd build them anyway and bury them in the backyard for future archaeological mystification. Each horse is handbuilt "from the ground up" ... using slabs, coils, and pinch pots. Something imagined, something dreamt, something remembered, something seen out of the corner of the mind's eye. Each horse is a surprise and my approach to clay is like the optimistic child in the stupid joke, there must be a horse in there somewhere!"
“A Baker’s Dozen,” Clay Horses by Louise W. King, are showing in Connecticut through June 2, 2013. To view (and make your selections!) visit the Oliva Cafe at 18 E Shore Rd & Rte 45 in New Preston, CT.
As she has in the past, Ms. King is donating a portion of all sales to benefit the Baker Institute for Animal Health at Cornell University’s College of Veterinary Medicine, a premier research center dedicated to the study of veterinary infectious diseases, immunology, genetics, and reproduction.
About Louise W. King
Ms. King was born in New York City before World War II and probably fell in love with the first horse that crossed her path. Was it a police horse? Was it pulling a milk wagon? Or could it have been her wildly glassy-eyed blood bay rocking horse, with its real horsehair mane and tail? For several years, she hoped that wishing would bring the rocking horse to life, at the same time her ambition was to grow up and be a horse.
"Both projects failed ... fortunately ... my father (born 1893) profoundly distrusted horses and thought motorcars were the height of human achievement. He gave me aserviceable car when I was 16; I didn't acquire a horse until after his death, when I was 40-something. It was a large-headed black Paso fino gelding, a perpetual inspiration. And nothing prevented me from studying horses of every shape and kind: mustangs, Royal Doulton horse figurines, carousel horses, Triggger, Tang horses, Shetland ponies and my Uncle Jack Trapnell's thoroughbreds. I thought C.W. Anderson was the greatest artist of all time and wasted reams of paper and pounds of pencils failing to imitate his style. When I realized I wasn't a second C.W. Anderson, it didn't matter because Haseltine and Skeaping were my idols and the superb old merry-go-round at Glen Echo, Maryland, was paradise."
Posted November 29, 2012; Updated May 9, 2013