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Freathy Pots

Is this printmaking, conversation with landscape, or with something that is beyond landscape? To find all the crevices of a, relatively, small space, Freathy, a part of my home, known in many ways, surfed, swum, kayaked, walked, climbed, each exploration another reveal, another way of seeing, nuance, a reminder of my ignorance for a place that feels so understood. The sand can shift a meter overnight in a big storm, we shall never know these places. 

These pots, however, know something of this place, and of myself, in doing so they allow me the insight of something of this place, an extension of other knowing, creating a pulled-apart story within my small capacity to consider this beach.

Wheel thrown with no ambition of form, left thick, heavy, allowing. Carried down from house to beach as young clay, waded into the sea, up onto rocks to be dropped, returned, fired and glazed

Symposium:

Stories and Storytelling

MA Symposium School of Art, Design and Architecture Storytelling: Shared Narratives of Research and Practice​

About the campfire, folk gather. It’s a frightening thing but it keeps us warm. The tales we tell are its fuel. Each of us has arrived here by different means —journeyed diverging paths. Our stories are vehicles for memory, for process, for findings. They live among us, in the flickering circle we occupy. What we choose to tell and how we choose to tell it matters, in the light of our fire and into the darkness long after. As makers and researchers, we are in a constant exchange of stories and telling: between artist and work, between work and audience, between all the voices of the past and all the ears of the future. Stories can be about place, about people, about things, about time, about a pile of dry sticks. The telling is the spark, the medium, the performance.

Early Writings

To explore a narrative, like a discussion, informed externally, but in the confines of self, not a wellness self, just an internal dialogue, spat out via photoshop, and illustrator, and marker pen into possibly something more, a graphic grappled for to explain something that doesn't exist in the words, to shout even louder, or whisper with more sincerity, or something like that, still unknown, still youthful in conceptual understanding of the language involved.

Words old, new and revived, stories and conflicts and aggrievements, kept here to bare relevance later on, something like a bog cauldron but not one, something different, a pebble in a nook, a slow thorn in the foot.

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