We mourn for the loss of our artist Doris Bank

Doris Bank

25.03.1964 – 19.10.2019

 

An obit­uary by Ute Beck

Doris was buried today.

When I now think of her, the qual­i­ties of clarity, honesty, consis­tency and, in the end, atti­tude come to mind. And, in all this: modesty.

When looking at her ceramics, there are exactly the same qual­i­ties that appear in her works. Doris devoted herself to the pursuit of perfect beauty and aesthetics in her private and profes­sional (or I should say: ceramic) life. In this atti­tude she showed no compro­mises. She had chosen a path that was stony, exhausting. She was seldom satis­fied with herself, seldom resting.

I remember our common trade fair presen­ta­tions. She drove up in her white 240 Volvo station wagon. White boxes piled up in the Volvo, the exhi­bi­tion stand was planned down to the last detail, the inscrip­tion was perfect, the price list printed, the lighting set before­hand. The pack­aging mate­rial was prepared in various sizes from high-quality paper...

At the begin­ning of the fair, the hair­style was perfect, the clothes were well thought-out and matched with the colours of the ceramics. Basi­cally a poem. She was a living poem.

I admired her for it, because I was stuck in traffic, had used some boxes lying around at home, hadn’t even thought about prices at that time. At the begin­ning of the fair I knew what I had forgotten.

Often I found it some­what obses­sive, this perfec­tion. That was the reason for me to make loving jokes. Today I know that not only the perfec­tion was impor­tant — it was more a basic atti­tude to life.

Her home, her small half-timbered house in Miltenberg, was also part of the factory. Every­thing was in harmony, wonder­fully combined, her little garden was a little paradise. Here, too, there was no room for coin­ci­dence. She did a lot of sports, went swim­ming every day.

At a certain point she told me that she was ill. She also carried her disease with great strength and posture until the end. The way was marked with a sharp, cheeky, merci­less humor. She could also laugh about herself.

Humor and atti­tude. That has become so rare. I think we have lost an artist and colleague who has exem­pli­fied some­thing rare and precious today.

Doris has left us wonderful ceramics in which her char­acter is visible. This way she will be remem­bered.