My story with clay begins in the charming mountain mining town of Anina, nestled in the heart of Caraș-Severin County, Romania. As a child, I roamed the riverbanks, where the cool, pliable earth became my playground. The rich, deep orange-red terracotta clay was more than just earth; it was my personal treasure trove, my plasticine. I would spend joyful hours crafting small animal figurines, losing myself in a world of creation and imagination. Each day felt like a magical holiday, filled with the excitement of discovery and the simple pleasures of shaping the earth with my hands.

The rhythm of our lives shifted when the mine in Anina closed, casting a shadow of uncertainty over our idyllic days. But this transition brought its own kind of magic. We moved to a new region, to a quaint, almost fairy-tale-like cottage in a quiet village. The house, over a century old, had once belonged to a potter. It stood as a silent witness to history, with its charm and timelessness wrapping around us like a warm embrace. It felt as though we had stepped into a storybook, with every corner of our new home whispering secrets of the past.

As we began to cultivate the large garden surrounding our new home, the earth revealed its hidden treasures. Among the roots and soil, we uncovered fragments of pottery. Each shard we unearthed was a piece of a mysterious puzzle, a relic of the past that sparked our imaginations. We marvelled at these discoveries, wondering about the hands that had crafted them and the stories they could tell.

One day, amidst our gardening, we discovered something extraordinary: a perfectly preserved jug, resting silently in the soil as if waiting for its moment to re-emerge into the light. Holding it I felt an uncanny connection, as though I was reaching across time to touch the hands of the potter himself. It was as if, through the tangible energy in the form and texture of the clay, the potter's spirit lived on. The elegance of the jug’s shape, the balance of its form, the spontaneity and freshness of the pulled curved handle, and the lively marks of the potter’s fingers convey a vibrant presence. I felt like holding a piece of the past, beautifully intact. The jug’s elegant curves and timeless form were mesmerising, a testament to the skill and artistry of its maker. It was as if the potter’s spirit had been captured within the clay. This experience left an indelible mark on me, instilling a deep appreciation for the jug's modest yet powerful form.

Between the Lines is an invitation to explore this journey of wonder and discovery with me. The jugs in this exhibition are not just vessels; they are a story, a memory, a celebration of life’s simple yet profound moments. It is about the joy of creation, the beauty of the everyday, and the timeless connection between past and present. Each jug in this collection echoes that same vitality, inviting you to explore its lines, its textures, and the spaces in between.

I can only hope you sense, as I once did, the enduring vitality and find the beauty within these quiet, graceful forms. Thank you for embarking on this journey with me.

Warm regards,  

Cosmin Ciofirdel