Wednesday, 6 January 2016

How The Prophet Was Driven To DRink




I'm publishing this on the evening of the 6th January, 2016, in honour of Charlie Hebdo and all the seventeen people killed by Islamist jihadists on 7th January, 2015. I made this jug depicting a furious prophet Mohammed, in 2015, for a thousand reasons. At least one was solidarity - solidarity with Charlie Hebdo, with satirists, blasphemers, and with Jews. Killed that day in the name of the prophet were: five cartoonists, a body guard, a policeman, a policewoman, a maintenance worker, two columnists, a copy editor, a travel writer, and four people shopping while being Jews.

Below is the full text on jug, as I wrote it, in English.
Below that is the translation in French, by my good friend, Roger Surridge, who has lived in Paris for longer than I care to remember. It looks good to me, I hope it does to you too.

How The Prophet Was Driven To Drink

And it came to pass
In the land of the Assyrians and Babylonians
That a vile scourge of Ba'athists, Islamists and Barbarians
Did invade and ransack the ancient places.

Bloody was the conquest.
And though the fields were fed with the people's blood
Yet did they yield forth nothing
But more food for vultures.

And even the mighty seas were in tumult
Devouring small boats
Spewing forth corpses
Leaving terror in the hearts of those that reached land.

Verily the prophet did rage at the carnage
Crying out in despair:
"You bastards!" He thundered.
"Goddam! Don't you gettit, you arseholes?
It's fiction!
I lied about gays, about Jews, and addiction.
I don't care who you love, how you worship, or feast.
Eat and drink! Wine or cider!
But for fuck's sake, live in peace!"

And here is Roger's translation:

Et il arriva Dans le pays des Assyriens et les Babyloniens
Ce fléau vile des Ba'athistes, des Islamistes et les Barbares
Envahit et pilla les lieux anciens.

Sanglante était la conquête.
Et bien que les champs aient été nourris avec le sang du peuple 
Pourtant, ont-ils rien produit de suite
Sauf encore de nourriture pour les vautours.

Et même les mers puissantes étaient en tumulte
Dévorant les petits bateaux
Vomissant les cadavres
Laissant la terreur dans les cœurs de ceux qui ont atteint la terre.

En vérité, le prophète éprouve de la rage face au carnage
Pleure de désespoir :
“Salauds !” tonna-t-il.
“Nom de dieu ! Vous ne comprenez rien, connards ?
C’est de la fiction !
Je rigolais sur les gays, les juifs, les toxicomanes.
Je m’en fous de qui vous aimez, de comment vous idolâtrez ou fêtez.
Mangez, buvez ! Vin, cidre !
Mais, putain, vivez en paix !

Thursday, 28 May 2015

New pot from 2014: A memorial to WW1 1915, Ararat to Albania

Detail showing The Great Serbian Retreat, 1915-16
Detail showing the Albanian Mountains
Detail: Flora Sandes
Detail: Mabel St. Clair Stobart
Detail: Dr. Elsie Maud Inglis


























The WW1 pot remembers a tiny splinter of that vast sprawling war. 1915 was the year of the Armenian genocide, (http://www.genocide-museum.am/eng/armenian_genocide.php), still denied by the Turkish government and still an open wound for many Armenians. The scars on the land where once the Armenian villages stood and people lived, can easily be seen in Eastern Turkey, particularly around Mr. Ararat, shown on the pot surrounded by fields of wild-flowers  - stripes of yellow, pink and purple. The image was taken from a photograph I took of Mt. Ararat as I explored the ruins of one such village.

Dr. Elsie Maud Inglis, (1864-1917), shown on the pot at the base, in front of the largest tent, founded the Scottish Women’s Hospitals, (SWH), at the start of WW1, http://scottishwomenshospitals.co.uk/  They were staffed by women and operated independently of the War Office. Inglis had offered her services as an experienced doctor in support of the war effort but was brushed off with: ‘My good lady, go home and sit still.’ The SWH set up field hospitals throughout the conflict zones in Europe and Russia and, in 1915, the hospital units were in Serbia to support both soldiers wounded in action on the Balkan front, and the civilian population, which was suffering an epidemic of typhoid.

Above the field hospital is a bullock train bringing supplies to set up one of the field hospitals in Serbia. Mabel St. Clair Stobart, (http://www.dorsetcountymuseum.org/dorset-woman-at-war), (1864-1952), pictured further round the pot, at the base, with two horses, founded the Women’s Sick and Wounded Convoy Corps, (1912), and the National Women’s Service League, (1914). She commanded the Serbian Relief Fund's Front Line Field Hospital in Serbia and, during the bitter winter of 1915/16, joined the Great Serbian Retreat, leading her staff through the Albanian mountains to the Adriatic coast, without any loss of life.

At the top of the pot, just beneath the rim, is Mr. Ararat. Moving down and around, a part of the Great Retreat becomes visible, as it moves towards the high mountain passes towards Albania. When Serbia was invaded by German, Austro-Hungarian and Bulgarian forces in late 1915, retreat was ordered by the Serbian general as the only viable way to survive. It was an exodus of some 355,000 people: men, women, and children, with donkeys, cattle, carts, and whatever they could carry. Approximately 200,000 people died in the mountains, with 155,000 reaching the Albanian coast, and eventually crossing the Adriatic to Corfu and Salonika. http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/search?query=Serbian%20retreat


Joining the retreat was Flora Sandes, http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01s0yg1 (1876-1956), who was working with the St. John’s Ambulance unit at the time. She had always wanted to be a soldier and resented the limitations of life as a girl and as a woman. She had to join the retreat when enemy forces invaded and, initially, joined the Serbian Red Cross but then enrolled in the Serbian army and fought on the allied side, with the Serbs. She was awarded the Order of the Karadorde’s Star, Serbia’s highest military honour, for bravery in active service, ‘under fire,’ and was promoted to Sergeant major. She lived most of the rest of her life in Serbia, returning to England only after the death of her husband in 1941. She is pictured at the base of the pot, lit up by fire, during the battle of Monastir, where she was wounded in 1916.

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

The Reappearance of The Clause 28 Tea Set, 1988, at The Pankhurst Centre, 2015




I made the Clause 28 Tea Set while still learning pottery at evening classes in 1988.

Clause 28

Clause 28, as it came to be known, sought to prohibit local government from both ‘promoting’ homosexuality and from publishing ‘material with the intention of promoting homosexuality.’ Further, it specified that ‘the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship’ would also be prohibited. While all branches of the gay community were outraged at the bill as a whole, the latter part, referring to the ‘pretended family relationship,’ seemed to target lesbian mothers in particular. This, I suspect, was one of the driving forces behind many of the specifically lesbian protests which occurred consistently throughout that year.

The Tea Set

The Clause 28 Tea Set comprises eight cups or mugs, eight plates, two teapots, a jug and a sugar bowl. The cups and mugs record the most imaginative and, in some cases, notorious of the political protests by lesbians. Two stand out to this day as dazzlingly audacious: the ‘lesbians are out,’ protest, (Februaray 2,1988), in which three lesbians abseiled into the chamber of the House of Lords from the public gallery; and the invasion of the BBC Six O’Clock News, (May 23, 1988), with Sue Lawley and Nicholas Witchell. I am proud to say that I witnessed the abseiling lesbians. I was in the gallery at the time having been lobbying parliament earlier - another of the cups records my vastly more prosaic efforts. Two more cups record a ‘kiss-in’ at Eros, in Piccadilly Circus, London, and the overnight appearance of a number pink triangles attached to statues of the great and good, also in London. There is a scene from the protest march in Manchester; a protest showing a group of women, dressed as suffragettes, who chained themselves to the railings of Buckingham Palace, (March 8 1988); and a protest in which I took part, at the Ideal Home Exhibition in London’s Olympia where a group of twenty-five lesbians occupied one of the houses, on March 13 1988, Mothering Sunday, and threw pink protest leaflets out of one of the upstairs windows and unfurled a huge banner from another supporting the rights of lesbian mothers.

One of the teapots records the Manchester march, (Februray 20 1988), and the other, triangular one, the various lesbian conferences and events that took place that year. The images for the Manchester march were all from photographs that I took and still have. The milk jug was a moment to send up our own seriousness – it pictures a herd of assorted animals sporting pink triangles, including rat, demanding rights. A little self-irony was an essential part of the political survival tool-kit.

How it got to the Pankhurst Centre

I kept the tea set until about 2001, when I moved from Todmorden to London. I felt I had hung on to it for long enough and asked the Pankhurst Centre if they would like it. They accepted the donation along with some other plates  - some of which can also been seen here - and we stayed in touch for a year or so. Some time later, I contacted the centre and was told that they knew nothing of these ceramics. Much later, roundabout 2010, I tried again. This time I was advised that there had been some building work done resulting in much of the centre’s collection going into storage and some of it being distributed to other museums, but, again, the woman I spoke to knew nothing of these pieces. I, meanwhile, consistently reassured myself that pots have a habit of resurfacing when they’re ready.

How it was found

Dinah Winch, Director of Elizabeth Gaskell House, who knows my work and included it ‘Fired Up,’ 2010, while she was working at Gallery Oldham, contacted me to ask if some ceramics that had been found at the Pankhurst Centre were mine. The current management had decided a food bank would be a good idea. A room was available downstairs but was packed tight, from floor to ceiling with junk, so tight that it was near impossible to get into the room at all. Two courageous volunteers, Karen and Julie, set about clearing it. Some days later, right at the back, having disposed of everything else – they found a sink – ‘…with running water! “Who knew?!”…’ wrote Rachel Lappin, Pankhurst Centre Manager, in an email to me. Under the sink, fully expecting to find more rubbish, dried up cleaning materials and assorted spiders, they found The Clause 28 Tea Set.

Rachel continues: ‘I don’t think you will be able to appreciate their surprise and joy at finding and uncovering these most beautiful pieces of ceramic work that we now know to be your tea set and plates! Of course they called me down to inspect it, and I was – rarely!! – speechless; the pieces literally took my breath away! We didn’t know anything about any of the items, except that we assumed that they must have been made in the ceramics workshops that we know were held at the Centre in the early 90s, although of course we now know that this isn’t the case, and that they were made by you! … I can honestly say that finding this work was most certainly a major highlight of my time so far at the Centre; we just couldn’t believe what we had come across, hidden away amongst a load of junk in a room in the basement!?’

Afterword

It has taken a while, but I do now have some understanding of why they were so excited. I guess it's not everyday that, while clearing junk from under a sink, you find a tea set recording a part of your own history. I was sure it would turn up somewhere in the centre. I didn't believe it had been re-donated  - life just isn't like that. It is just much more likely that things get lost for a bit and then turn up, particularly in places where funding - and therefore workers - come and go like changes in the weather.

I'm hugely grateful to everyone at the centre and to their two resident PhD students, who are researching the centre's history, for the considerable trouble to took to trace me and let me know that it was, after all, still there. I'm also grateful they took the trouble to communicate their enthusiasm for tea set to me - it has reminded me why I made it in the first place.


Those interested in the teaching of ceramics may also like to note that Rachel Lappin was not far wrong in her assumption that the tea set was made at the centre in the 1990s. It was made in very similar circumstances, in an adult education class, in Brixton, but just a few years earlier. Some of the ceramics degree courses may be closing now but there are many more ways to learn and they too can lead the student towards life as a professional, full-time maker. The Pankhurst Centre, I'm delighted to say, held a series of pottery classes for women. The Clause 28 Tea Set was on show to inspire and encourage their students - which is exactly what it should have been doing. 

Saturday, 20 December 2014

Molly's Odyssey, 2013 - The Kiss

Molly's Odyssey, 2013
80 cms high x 47 cms wide

Features the writer Rebecca Chance as Molly Bloom in my version of Molly's soliloquy - the last chapter of James Joyce's Ulysses.

contact thelab@claudiaclare.co.uk for price list and to see the pot







End of the Rainbow - the banking pot.

End of the Rainbow, 2012 -on my website with lots more detail here.

Affectionately known at 'The Banking Pot,' this one uses the shape of the Indian money-pot and traces the relationship between art, religion, banking and pots. I'm proud to say that the first bank was clay pot - a storage jar full of grain.
Featuring: The bull and the bear, St. Pauls (complete with the Occupy tents), the Medici boat and coat of arms, Tate Modern, Damien Hirst's Dolphins swimming down the Thames, London Bridge, a rainbow, The Tower of London, Cezanne's Card Players, and assorted patron saints of pottery, banking and accounting.

90cms high x 54cms wide.

Contact thelab@clare.claudiaco.uk for price list and to see the pot.





Thursday, 27 November 2014

Dinner With Svetlana, 2009

Dinner With Svetlana, 2009  Therein lies a tale which you can read about here:

Svetlana was commissioned by the Museum of Contemporary Art in Esfahan, for the show set for April 2009 - cancelled due to uprising.

Comprising 7 large plates, (40cms wide appox) It tells a story so the set needs to be kept together.
thelab@claudiaclare.co.uk if you'd like to view this work









The Look and Migration Man, (2009)




















Top: The Look 2009, from the show 'How to Eat a Pomegranate' 2010 and originally destined for the Museum of the Contemporary Art, Esfahan, April 2009. The show was cancelled because of the uprising, or rather because of 'sensitivities' according to the Iran Foreign Ministry.

The Look, 2009 (large plate 43cms width approx)

Thinking About Migration, 2009. From the same show.
(very large plate 55cms approx)

Contact: thelab@claudiaclare.co.uk