Showing posts with label Ceramics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ceramics. Show all posts

Monday, 28 October 2019

March Against the Sex Trade, Filia Conference 2019, Bradford.




























The March Against the Sex Trade took place on the Saturday evening, October 19th, at the end of day one of Filia conference. We assembled at twilight and processed to Centenary Square, the main square in Bradford. There we gathered in a circle and, after an introduction by Fiona Broadfoot, read out the names of all the women who had been murdered while exploited in prostitution. Shocking how long it took. As daylight was faded, and the sky went deep blue, we held up white roses and cards, each with the name of one murdered woman, and called out the names again, all together this time, like a Greek Chorus. Once all the names had been sounded at least three times, we had a minute’s silence to reflect on the harms of prostitution and sex trade, and to remember the lives and deaths of the women whose names were called. ‘The Invisible Man,’ the pot set up in the centre of the circle, ‘broke the silence,’ as it smashed on to the paved stone ground, releasing the images of women painted inside.

The memorial concluded with a song and a dance by an Argentinian woman, one of the conference speakers, whose daughter had been abducted, prostituted, and murdered in Buenos Aires.

Perhaps the most significant part though was this: I was about to collect and wrap up the shards when a young man who was passing by with his girlfriend, asked me if I knew Rebecca Hall, one of the women whose names were called out during the memorial. ‘I knew her,’ he said, ‘She was one of my best friends at school. This means so much to me.’ He then went and spoke to the woman holding the card with Rebecca’s name on it. You can read about Rebecca here.

The shards are now on their way back to the studio where they will be glazed and the pot reassembled but with pieces left out so you can see the images of the women painted inside. If all goes according to plan, the internal images – the women - will dominate. You will see them rather than the men depicted on the outside of the pot. The shattering and mending of a pot is a simple metaphor, reflected in the words, ‘I was shattered. Now I’m piecing myself slowly back together.’

Among my proudest moments, as a feminist and a potter, are when my pots are part of feminist activism, especially activism against the sex trade and the call for abolition. The March Against the Sex Trade was an action done as part of a feminist conference but in a public space. Reaching out to survivors, to family and friends of survivors, and to passers by  - the public in the most general sense, is surely the most important of any campaign. It was a huge honour to be part of it.

The names of the women murdered in prostitution in Bradford
May 21 2010, Suzanne Blamires, 36
April 26 2010 Shelley Armitage, 31
June 22 2009, Susan Rushworth, 43
April 26 2001: Rebecca Hall, 19
May 2000 Gemma Simpson, 23
October 1996: Caroline Creevy, 25
June 8 1995: Maureen Stepan, 18
1992 Yvonne Fitt, 32
1984: Deborah Kershaw,22
January 21 1978: Yvonne Pearson, 21
Wiki page – women UK-wide  - This is UK and Ireland - from 2010-today. 

Fiona Broadfoot is one of the women bringing the judicial review aiming to get convictions removed from the record of exited women and remove the need for disclosure which represents a major barrier for prostituted women who are trying to exit.
Photos from top: 1- Studio Twelve, 2 and 3 - Deb Ball, 3,4 and 5 - Claudia Clare

Saturday, 10 June 2017

The Summer Pots: Summer Rain, 2017, currently showing at Gallery 286, 286 Earl's Court Road, London SW5 9AS June 8th - 30th 2017












































The Summer Pots at Gallery 286

A burst of sunshine illuminates a torrential summer rain and umbrellas in Oxford Street.

Ther is far less scrafitto on this pot than in earlier works. This one is almost all brush work.

Earthenware pot, coil built, approx 62cms high, slip-painted with clear glaze.

Friday, 16 September 2016

Politicians, Preachers, Prophets, Protesters: Five jugs in 'Ideas Worth Fighting For,' 17th-23rd, October 2016, at the People's History Museum, Manchester.


The Ballad of Gorgeous George, (2015)

Meet my friend George Galloway, 
He worships Ayatollahs
He genuflects to Ba'athists

And he LOVEs the Hezbollollahs.
He entertains his Islamists in a purple leotard,
He's not much good at pussy

But he licks cream good and hard.
OH Galloway's coming to London,

He wants to be the mayor,
Anjem's lot'll love him up

But he doesn't stand a prayer.
When we've thrown him out London, 

He's off to Liverpool,
He's buggerd off from Bradford, 

No one wants him, bloody fool. 

How the Prophet was driven to drink (2015)

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!" 

Cider Party for the Corbynati, (2015) 



























Jeremy Corbyn
Likes it cosy
His beard and bonnet
A little bit posy?
Perhaps his glasses are tinted rosy,
His politics are Crap.

He's a great admirer of Hamas
Khaled Meshal is his friend.
In bed with Hezbollah
Sir Hasan Nasrullah
Doth ram-rod his glistening rear end.

So watch it if you're arty
And offend the Shariati
Or blaspheme the Cornbynati
You'll feel the force of their knee-cap

And mind if Corbyn wins the day
If you're a Jew, or if you're gay
Because jihadis want their pay
And he's a squirming in their lap.

So soddit let's just have a party
Proper Bacchanaliati
Lest Cobyn's sychophantiati
Turn off our cider tap!

























Stop The War, jug, (2015)

Stop the War!
Protest in a tweet,
Kiss Assad's arse,
Prostrate at Putin's feet.
Salute the Ayatollahs,
Appease the Caliphate,
It's Israel and America
We all love to hate. 
John McDonnell's Farm, jug, (2015)

John McDonell had a farm,
Eee Aye Eee Aye Oh.
And on the farm he planted cash,
but it wouldn't grow.
With a deficit here
And a printer there
And quantitive easing everywhere,
With normal times here
And special times there
Borrowing and spending and selling off shares,
With Osbornes here
And Camerons there,
And Tory porkers hogging the air,
With campaigns here
And protests there
and Corbyistas tearing their hair,
Poor Jonny 'Donnell's printer jammed.
His farm just had to go. 

Calipahte Seaside jug, (2015)




We are all
Stop-Start a War
HamaHezbolicious!
Come and join us at the seaside
In Islamocalificious!
We think you'll find the food out here 
is really quite delcious
The weather, beach and swimming, dear, 
is always beneficious.
Bit it's beheading infidels, my dear,
The rape, and crucificious,
That's what makes the Caliphate,
the Best Vacationicious. 


Saturday, 27 August 2016

Land and Skyscapes at the Contemporary Ceramics Centre, August -November, 2016


























Five pieces showing as part of the Autumn Rotation at the Contemporary Ceramics Centre, opposite the British Museum, from August 1st - November 1st 2016. From the top: Hordley Swamp, (2016), 35 cms diam. Wootton Floods, (2016), 35 cms diam. London, Sledging at Broadwater Farm, (2015), 50cms diam. London, Autumn Fair, Hyde Park, (2015), 40 cms diam. Sun Setting After A Storm, London, Late Summer, (2015). 35 cms diam. All of these are shallow dishes, pinch-pots, slip-painted earthenware with scraffitto, and clear glaze. Top two are photographed by me, the bottom three are photographed by Sylvain Deleu.

Thursday, 14 April 2016

Danse Macabre or Postcard From The Caliphate, (2015-16)

Danse Macabre / Postcard From The Caliphate, (2015-16)


























This pot is all but finished. It has yet to be professionally photographed, and still lacks the lustre firing that will deepen some of the reds and help to vary the local colour and colour saturation.

No one likes Islamic State, or ISIL or The Caliphate, or whichever name we use. Lampooning IS is, well, therapy perhaps but it makes no difference. It works as satire but as serious social or political critique, attacking IS is hardly subversive by anyone's standards, unless, of course, the viewer just happens to be a supporter. The critique in this pot is aimed at what is currently referred to as the 'regressive Left.' It may also be called, the 'hard Left,' 'the pseudo Left,' 'the Apologist Left,' or just 'Nothing Left.' Again, call it what you will, it amounts to the same thing: that part of the British political Left which is apologist in its attitude and response to Islamism, which routinely appeases dictators and fascist or fascistic leaders, as long as they threaten America and/or Israel. In short, it is the Left-overs that have thrown their lot in the far Right.

The targets then are 'Stop the War,' (see the Stop the War jugs in this post,) George Galloway, Anjem Choudary, Julian Assange, Asim Qureshi and Moazzem Beg (CAGE), Yvonne Ridley,  and assorted fawning, selfie-taking, followers, who dance around the base of pot, genuflecting and group-hugging their idols, (thank you, Nicholas Poussin and the Golden Calf.)

The appeased leaders are: Vladmimir Putin, Bashar Al Assad, Sayeed Ali Khamenei, Kings Abdullah and Salman, (House of Saud),  Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Hasan Nasrullah, (Hezbollah), Khaled Meshal (Hamas), Abu Bakr Al Baghdadi, and assorted jihadis including Mohammad Emwazi. They all ride the Islamist Roundabout in one direction or another. The Islamist flag is depicted in butt-plugs - my thanks to the clever, imaginative soul who made the original for the 2015 London Gay Pride. I also salute Mark Gertler's magnificent Merry-Go-Round in this pot.

Thursday, 17 March 2016

Party time with John McDonell...



This has been described as 'equal opportunities offence,' which I whole heartedly endorse. 

John McDonell had a farm
Eee Aye Eee Aye oh!
And on that farm he planted cash
But it didn't grow.

With a deficit here
And a printer there
And quantitive easing everywhere,

With normal times here
And special times there
Borrowing and spending and selling off shares,

With Osbornes here
And Camerons there
And Tory porkers hogging the air,

With protests here
And campaigns there
And Corbynistas tearing their hair,

Poor Johnny Donell's printer jammed.
His farm just had to go...

Stop the War - the drinking jugs






























These are the Stop the War drinking jugs. I hate StW with a vengeance because they posture as 'anti-war,' but are far, very far, from pacifist. On the contrary, they are a partisan Nationalist organisation, apologists for every dictatorial regime on earth and for jihadists everywhere, and are strongly pro-war as long as it is against America or, above all, Israel. The words are a parody of their own slogans and statements. 

Jug 1 - Top two images:

Stop the War
Protest in a tweet
Kiss Assad's arse
Prostrate at Putin's feet
Salute the Ayatollahs
Appease the Caliphate
It's Israel and America
We all love to hate.

Jug 2 - Last three images:

We are all
Hezbollah
Bomb Israel
But Stop the War.
Hamas rools
Hey! Palestine!
Fuck Sharia
This ale's divine!

Stop the War
Milky and sweet
Be nice to Mr Assad
Kiss Putin's feet
Salute the Ayatollahs
Chat with the Caliphate
It's Israel and America
We all love to hate.

Jezwe'reapologists.

Jeremy Corby's Cider Jug




A Cider jug for Jeremy Corbyn - the Corbo-sensitive should look away now.

Jeremy Corbyn
Likes it cosy
His beard and bonnet
A little bit posy?
Perhaps his glasses are tinted rosy..
His politics are Crap.

He's a great admirer of Hamas
Khaled Meshal is his friend.
In bed with Hezbollah
Sir Hasan Nasrullah
Doth ram-rod his glistening rear end.

So watch it if you're arty
And offend the Shariati
Or blaspheme the Cornbynati
You'll feel the force of their knee-cap

And mind if Corbyn wins the day
If you're a Jew, or if you're gay
Because jihadis want their pay
And he's a squirming in their lap.

So soddit let's just have a party
Proper Bacchanaliati
Lest Cobyn's sychophantiati
Turn off our cider tap!

Song for Galloway - the drinking jug




Drinking song for George Galloway - who is depicted wearing a leotard playing pussy-cat (this is from a reality TV show,) while Anjem Choudary as vulture, (aroused), sniffs his bum.

Meet my friend George Galloway
He worships Ayatollahs,
He genuflects to Ba'athists
And he LOVES the Hezbelollahs.
He entertains his Islamists
In a purple leotard
He's not much good at pussy
But he licks cream good and hard

Oooh Galloway's coming to London
He wants to be the mayor,
Anjem's lot'll love him up
But he doesn't have a prayer.
When we've thrown him out of London
He's off to Liverpool,
He's buggered off from Bradford
No one wants him
Bloody fool!

That second verse should be sung, drunkenly, to the tune of 'My Old Man's a Dustman.'

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 the 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.