Pt 2

“Okay, girls.” Polkan smiled. “Pop up onto the stage like we practised.” As the girls gleefully stepped up onto the wooden platform, the artist turned to his guest. “I call it a stage,” he explained, “to help my subjects understand that what we’re creating here is a kind of performance. Their finished sculptures should not seem passive like a posed painting or photograph but rather a moment of time frozen forever. Are you familiar with the ruins of Pompei?” he asked.

“I’ve seen pictures.” Mrs Lomax replied, “And I think there was as bit about them on television once.”

“Hundreds of people,” Polkan told her, “men, woman and children all captured in the moment of their deaths. A petrified snapshot of their every day life. Such was the violence and suddenness of the eruption that many of them had no idea they were about to die and we can still see them now, preserved in whatever activities they were engaged in. That’s the feeling I wanted to capture. A moment frozen in time. Static, certainly, but with the suggestion of movement and, most importantly of all, life! Now, please excuse me for a moment. This is my most important duty!”

Polkan left Mrs Lomax to watch as he stepped up onto the platform to help pose the girls as they would be preserved. They both seemed to know what was expected of them, having practised the tableaux with the artist several times over the past two days. The younger girl sat on the stump, her feet dangling and not quite touching the floor while the older girl stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder, her slender legs in a slightly balletic pose. Polkan gave the smaller girl a large hardback picture book to hold open close to her lap as if she was reading and the older girl was given a small hardback book that could be held in one hand. Both girls posed as if reading.

“Perfect!” Polkan stood back to admire his composition. “Okay, I think we’re ready!” He gave a sign to the foreman who spoke into his radio again. Two worker came forward carrying a sheet of perspex that they locked into position at the front of the “stage” so that the girls were now completely sealed in. Two large tanks were slid into place either side of the top of the perspex chamber with a chute leading from each one.

“Okay girls,” he grinned at them through the perspex, “next time I see you, you will be perfectly cast in beautiful bronze, your beauty preserved forever!” The girls gave a cheery wave and broad grin before returning to their poses. The foreman came forward and handed a remote control with two large buttons on to Polkan. “I like to do this bit myself.” He explained to Mrs Lomax. “Helps me feel a more active part of the process. Right, girls!” He called loudly. “Here it comes. Remember to stay perfectly still. Good luck, and thank you!”

He pushed the button and thick white liquid began to gush into the tank, filling it up from the bottom. There was maybe a flicker of nervousness in the girls’ eyes as the liquid rose higher and higher around them but they did not break their pose. As the liquid continued to rise, the smaller girl was completely submerged. A few moments later, her taller friend was gone too. When the liquid reached the top of the tank, Polkan pressed the button to end the flow.

“We use a specially blended plaster-like substance,” Polkan explained to his guest. “In three to four minutes it will dry solid, at which point it can be placed in the kiln and fired. This fixes the mould and also burns away the organic matter.”

“Organic matter?” Karen Lomax asked. “By which you mean the girls?”

“The girls, the wood, the books, everything like that.” Polkan explained as casually as if he were describing the process of sealing a finished watercolour painting rather than discussing the burning alive of two young girls, reducing their beautiful young bodies to ash.

“I see.” Karen nodded. “What happens after that?”

“Well you’re in luck!” Polkan grinned at her, because we have another work that was fired this morning ready for the next stage. I’d be happy to show you!”

“Oh, please!” Karen smiled, wondering if her own children would be as cooperative as the two charming girls she had just seen entombed. Polkan led her along the line of machinery to where a huge white block, very similar the one she had just seen created, stood in some kind of hydraulic rig, clamped on either side.

“Once the firing is complete,” the artist explained, “which takes around three hours, the block is lifted allowing the ash to fall out. We then use high-pressure air-hoses to clean out any remnants then use this rig to turn it upside down.” The foreman brought him another remote and Polkan pointed out a large vat from which a heat-haze was rising, positioned centrally above the block. “That’s liquid bronze.” He explained, before pressing the button which caused the vat to tip forward. Mrs Lomax watched in fascination as the red-hot, lava-like liquid poured down into the waiting mould. She remembered that the foreman had earlier referred to this work as ‘The Joy of Friendship’ and wondered what the composition would be.

“How long does it take to cool?” She asked, curiously.

“Not very long at all, honestly.” Polkan replied with a smile. “Once the bronze is removed from the heat source it hardens in a matter of minutes. Then we flip the block around right side up again and break off the mould which the heat of firing renders solid but brittle. Then all that remains is to polish it up like you saw my colleagues doing earlier.” Already the mould was full. The molten bronze stopped falling and the vat returned to an upright position.

“You know,” Polkan made conversation to pass the few minutes until the statue could be revealed. This was always the most tense time in the process and he was as eager to see the result as his guest was. “I’m actually working on a more portable form of this process that doesn’t require so much equipment. Of course it’s always going to be best to do it this way and I think this will always be the only way to produce the bronze statues but if a school or even a family wanted a single girl or boy, or maybe a pair if they were small or posed very close together, then I think it will soon be possible to go out to their location and leave them with a cold-cast resin statue.”

“Ah, that’s very interesting!” Mrs Lomax was genuinely intrigued. “Do you think there will be a lot of call for it?”

“We’ve been getting enquiries since we opened.” Polkan smiled. “People asking if we can create statues with their children that they can then take home with them to display in the garden or on the driveway. We’ve not done anything like that so far but it got me thinking and maybe in the future it will be a service that we can offer.” The foreman approached and informed them that the bronze was cooled. “Fantastic!” Polkan rubbed his hands together in glee. “Flip it over and let’s see what we have!”

The hydraulics of the giant framework hissed into action, lifting the large white block off the ground before slowly spinning it 180 degrees before setting it back down. There was a metallic clunk as the blackened bronze base hit the steel surface below. The hands of the vice were then withdrawn leaving the block standing alone like a squat monolith.

“Shall we see what we have?” Polkan asked, as excited as a small child at Christmas. He approached the block and took the conventional chisel and mallet that were handed to him. He made the first chip and a large block of the plaster-like substance fell away, crumbling as it hit the floor. Once the artist had made the symbolic first chip, he stepped back and allowed the team of assistants wearing overalls and face-masks to avoid breathing in the chalky dust stepped in to complete the job. As Polkan and Mrs Lomax watched, the statue was revealed.

The Joy of Friendship depicted two young boys, maybe nine or ten years old, climbing a tree. One was already sat on a sturdy branch and was reaching down a hand to help his friend up. Mrs Lomax was impressed with the staging as, although one of the second boy’s feet was clearly on the floor, the impression was given that they were both very high up, near the top of the tree.

“Perfect!” Polkan exclaimed. “I’d been worried whether or not Callum, the boy on the branch, had managed to stay still but it looks like he did. This will make a very fine addition to the garden once it’s been cleaned up and polished.” He stood and admired his latest work for a few minutes, basking in the sense of pride he always felt when seeing one of his compositions realised.

“So,” he turned to Mrs Lomax, “now that you’ve seen the whole process, start to finish, although not exactly in that order, do you still wish to sell me your children?”

“Oh yes!” Karen exclaimed, “I am sure they will make a very beautiful addition to your catalogue!”

“I am sure they will too!” Polkan smiled, very pleased, “Please come back to the office with me then we will get the paperwork sorted. I already have a composition in mind that they will be perfect for. I call it the Joy of Siblings.”

“That sounds perfectly charming!” Karen smiled proudly, “And perfect for my babies. I can’t wait to see it!”