Joie de Vivre 1960

Walasse Ting, sometime in the late 20th century, made this small sculpture using clay and paint, and called it “Joie de Vivre”. Looking at this little thing, what strikes me is how immediate the making of it feels. You can see the hand in it, the way he pinched and prodded the clay, making a rounded base and then building up this figure, this little guy, with a kind of rough energy. And then there’s the paint – layers of glossy black on the bulbous base, contrasting with the rust-red on the figure above. It’s all about texture here: the shiny, almost wet-looking black against the dry, almost cracked red. I find myself focusing on one specific point where the black paint seems to drip slightly onto the base, it’s almost like a tear, or a small pool of something viscous. This detail captures a certain vulnerability, a human touch, making the whole piece feel very alive. Ting's roots are in Chinese calligraphy, and you can see this calligraphic mark-making in his paintings. I think Joan Miró would have liked this. In the end, it’s a reminder that art isn’t about perfection, but about the beauty of process, the joy of making.