The makings of a sculptor

Sculptors are a rarity in Malta. Ceramists, on the other hand, are a flourishing and prolific breed – one that seems to be somewhat compensating for the sculptural lacuna.

Ceramics are often placed under the umbrella of decorative or applied arts, if not worse, and simply labelled as craft. However, ceramic works can and often do fall under the fine art category. Ceramists are constantly reaching new heights and often take the medium to extremes. Although Malta has yet to see the sophistication of work of Valeria Nascimento or Anna Klimesova, the pop culture references in the intricate and refined works of Chris Vicini or the intriguing porcelain “mash-ups” of Barnaby Barford, I still think Malta is heading to a very interesting place...

So why the lengthy intro? Simple, because the sad and untimely passing of Julie Apap and Neville Ferry over the past weeks has put a spotlight on Maltese ceramists. Moreover, ceramics are hardly given enough prominence (except when it concerns one very special phallic ceramic Luqa monument).

Even though Malta was represented in the European Ceramic Context held in Bornholm (Denmark) last year, and many of our ceramists have exhibited in the Malta-Cyprus/Cyprus-Malta cer-amics exhibitions held regularly since 2005, the medium remains somewhat neglected and, perhaps dare I say, undervalued. Andaside from local heavyweights like Gabriel Caruana and Paul Haber, there are many more highly capable ceramists who are moulding a solid career for themselves, both in Malta and abroad.

Mario Sammut is decidedly one of those names. Mr Sammut was actually one of the artists selected to represent Malta in the European Ceramic Context show last year with two works titled Journey of Hope and Family. Both these works are presently being featured in an exhibition at the Loggia of the National Museum of Fine Arts in Valletta, together with a collection of ceramics which speak a very uniform stylistic language.

Titled Humanity in Forms, Mr Sammut’s work is precisely that – a representation of humanity. Practically all of his works highlight the human condition: focusing especially on sentiment and relationship. His often androgynous figures are quiet, simple. They possess no facial features nor limbs, for the larger part. All unnecessary details are done away with.

Sex and gender is often understood through the mere title of a work, through the swelling of a figure’s stomach or an obvious bosom. Yet any form of sexuality remains elusive.

His female figures are bottom heavy – pun intended. Unlike Francisco Botero, whose figures resemble happily obese blobs, Mr Sammut’s figures start off as slender forms, with small frames, gradually expanding. Their weight and mass collects towards the bottom of the torso – starting somewhere around the waist and then culminating in the hips and thighs. His is a very Mediterranean representation of an over-exaggerated pear-shaped body-type, which has been simultaneously elongated. Nevertheless, this results in a surprising elegance of form. The final product is nothing less than charming and extremely endearing.

I found Mr Sammut’s free-standing works decidedly more effective than his wall hangings, which unfortunately failed to capture my attention. The free-standing works are another story altogether: They are ultimately sculptures in the round, and require a 360° viewing. Unfortunately, this was not always possible. Several times I found myself trying to sneak a peek at some of the figures’ behinds – simply out of curiousity. But this proved difficult in many instances as the ceramics were placed against walls or arch supports. The neutral white walls do provide a good backdrop for the works, yet the rough surfaces and textures of the ceramics lose out when set against the stone courtyard divisions.

Also, I found some of the plinths a little too high. Some of the ceramics representing “groups”, necessitate somewhat of an aerial perspective besides a full circle view. The spherical heads create interesting shapes and patterns and often take on an extraneous underwater or marine-like quality.

Mr Sammut’s works are on the whole pretty enjoyable, even entertaining in a few instances. What struck me most, however, was that a couple of the works – especially the Seated Female Figure and his grouped Sitters – could lend themselves well as designs for public artworks ­– which we are in desperate need of.

Malta’s monuments (because Gozo has John Grima) are for the large part pitiful. Our roundabouts, gardens and random places of (semi?) interest are littered with faces of dignatories and supposedly important historical figures which verge on the sinister to say the least. Where is our playful nature? How has our transition into the 21st century (or into the EU) been represented or commemorated? Perhaps all our possibilities are being pinned onto 2018, the year when Malta will be awarded the title of European Capital of Culture. Or is it just wishful thinking?

Mario Sammut might be a ceramist, but he is also a sculptor. Our vanishing landscapes and often crumbling streetscapes could use a little embellishment. I just hope the movers and shakers are taking note of this much.

• Humanity in Forms runs at the National Museum of Fine Arts, South Street, Valletta until May 1.