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

Thursday, 11 June 2020

The Ballad of Sister Bergdorf, 2018




A Pilgrim vase - about 30 x 30 cm approx

Some Background 
The Ballad of Sister Bergdorf grew out my observation that an unholy coupling had occurred between religion and politics. 'Art discourse' was one of its most obnoxious offspring. I have discussed 'cultural appropriation,' since the 1980s, theorised 'appropriately,' particularly on ceramics, since the 1990s, debated with feminists on transgender politics, among other things, since the late 1990s, and argued with transactivists since the early 2000s. I've held forth on social media - mostly on Facebook -  about all of it since 2010. I have even been described as a 'veteran of the culture wars,' by the writer Jo Bartosch so, if that doesn't convince you that I am familiar with this territory, nothing will. It took some time to find my satirical voice - or at least to find a way to express it on pots - but the jugs that I started making in 2015 gave vent to the first collection of work that deals directly with the increasing madness of politics. Looking back now, I can see the satire clearly enough in Nightwalker, (2014,) and there are probably hints before that. 

About the politics
When politics walked through the looking glass and the Labour Party appointed Munroe Bergdorf, a transwoman, as their advisor on 'LGBT' issues, it was time to respond. Bergdorf isn't gay. Transgender isn't gay - it isn't about who you love, it's about how you see yourself. Bergdorf has had vast amounts of radical and cosmetic surgery to make her body resemble an idealised, porn-woman. 'She' lives as she imagines a woman might, but she is not female - or as we used to say, 'a woman.' Her sex is male, consistent with being what we used to call 'a man.' Nonetheless she - yes I do use that term for her because I've grown used to it and do not wish to have my pronouns policed by purists any more than I do by transactivists - she opines on feminism, shamelessly lecturing women on how to do feminism better, and is now lecturing anyone who will listen on the matter of menstrual periods. This is someone who grew up a boy and has never had a period in her life. This is where we find ourselves: MtF transexual women claiming to have experiential knowledge of menstruation simply because they call themselves women and choose to ignore the fact they are biologically male. Their notion of sex (the noun not the verb,) is that it is based on faith - like religion - not on biological material reality. Put simply, Transactivists and their institutions, Stonewall and many others, have conflated sex and gender and sought to impose their beliefs on the entire population. Volumes of analysis has been written on this, so I will not add more. The redoubtable Allison Bailey, from LGB Alliance, covers most of the main points in her statement which was redacted from her crowdjustice page - as if to prove the very point the statement makes - but reproduced with permission by A Woman's Place UK.  A good ten volumes would now be required to cover all the issues adequately, and this is just a blog post, but it should make my own position clear. This piece I wrote for 'Howie's Corner,' for International Women's Day, may clarify some further issues if needed. 

About the pot
The Ballad of Sister Bergdorf is only the beginning. There will have to be more because the madness has spun right out of control but, at the time I made this, I was still finding a way to convert words like these into pots. I chose a pilgrim flask form because it has religious connotations. I also like the simple binary of the shape it has front and a back, or it can do, and it has its ceramic roots in Renaissance Maiolica which featured religious imagery, mythology and, on occasion, political satire.

I also set myself the challenge of using buzz words from academia and art-talk just for hell of it. Look out for the following: 
misgender - as in 'you misgendered me.' This means speaking to or about a transperson using the wrong pronoun - an offence for which women have lost their jobs and their livelihoods and for which some have been investigated by police. 
Othering -  a process of creating difference and distance between groups of people. I like this term and find it one the more useful ideas couched in language that academia has provided in the last thirty years or so. 
Cultural Appropriation - the assertion that a cultural artefact, performance, or custom belongs to a specific culture and is appropriated by another - often with a socio-political or geopolitical dimension that disadvantages the 'owner' or presumed originator of the culture. It is characterised by exponents as theft from a subjugated culture or people by a dominant or more powerful culture or nation. This one is a political and cultural minefield and is fundamentally dependent on Nationalist politics to operate. As such, it is inherently flawed since has become part of the most treasured political tools of people who regard themselves as anti-Imperialist. While anti-Imperialism and Nationalism certainly do go together, Nationalism cannot work with anti-racism and proponents of the ideology of cultural appropriation, for the most part, think of themselves as vehemently anti-racist - and often are, passionately so. Hence the minefield. 

Here is the text in full as it is written on the pot pictured above. 

The Ballad of Sister Bergdorf

Her novitiate completed,
Miss Gender Ring-Munroe
Bade farewell to the Convent sisters
Of St. Simpering-le-Beau

To the land of Eternal Doublethink
Our pious pilgrim was bound
Where Our Lady of Perpetual Othering’s
Shrine, in the woods, by a river, was found.

She hadn’t been long on the road
Only a mile from Doublethink Station
When Lo! She beheld the Sepulchre
Of Cultural Appropriation.

The stone had been rolled away
And there appeared Our Lady of Other,
Miss Gender was struck
By the light – What the Fuck!
I’m not a nun,
I’m a monk!
I’m a Brother!

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. 


Thursday, 14 April 2016

New and Recent work - These pots will be shown in 'Hidden', 6 Mason's Yard, SW1Y 6BU, September 2016, and at GAllery 286, Earls Court Road, SW5 9AS, November 2016






























From the Top
Nightwalker, (2014)
Travelling West, (2013),
WW1 1915-6, Ararat to Albania, (2015),
Me with 'Drinking Hemlock' (2015), Postcard from the Caliphate in the background,
Me with Drinking Song for GAlloway, (2015,) as above,
Postcard from the Caliphate, (2016)
Postcard from the Caliphate, (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.

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 !

Saturday, 20 December 2014

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 claudiaclare40@yahoo.com for price list and to see the pot.