Lots of sheep!

We often have local school children come to the studios to make things and have them fired.

          Recently a group of sixteen came to make these lovely sheep.
They look complicated, but are made with some flat pieces of clay which have pattern pressed into them before they are put together with slip.

The joy of these creatures is how each of them takes on such a unique character. Curly horns and bulging eyes, yet they all look sheepish!

They sit on top of the kiln keeping warm...sorry, drying out... and when they are bone dry get their first firing.

                      Then their second firing is with a glaze. And at the end of that , off they go to school to be taken home and hopefully put in a special spot for all to see.

the Easter Box of Goodies

We took a trip south this weekend and on the way back north, stopped off with our daughter's family.

This is always a treat of hugs,laughter and baked goodies! Our daughter has a blog site, Amelie's House, and also is on the Flickr site, Neviepiecakes, so the cakes are to die for!  As soon as we got in the front door, we were presented with "The Easter Box".   Here are the photos to show what came out of it as I unpacked!

                       Natasha's older kidlet painted the scene on the lid.

Inside is a Simnel cake. Moist fruit cake with almond marzipan filling and topping. Each ball on top represents an apostle. Nestled in a corner was a bag of Blackberry with creme du mure chocolates by "Coup de Chocolat".  Both this maker and Neviepie Cakes belong to a group in Hertfordshire called "More than a Mama" ,and they regularly hold market fairs in that area. 

The green pom-poms have been turned into an Easter Garland which I shall probably hang up for ever.                                

So we are nicely set up for treats this coming weekend!

Irrelevancies

I saw this quote from the Times at the weekend.  Tutor to Paloma Faith [singer], " The medium in which you express yourself is irrelevant. What is important is what you are trying to say." 

When I was at college working towards my B.A. in Fine Art, my struggle was to narrow down the ideas coming from my butterfly mind.
Whether to paint or collage, to use ceramics, installation art or performance.

Then as now the theme running through it all was, the human race on the edge. A place that I knew so well growing up, edge where sea meets land. A very edgy place yet also comforting in the eternal movement of time and tide. I have always been a gatherer of stuff thrown up by the waves. These are often bits thrown overboard, abandoned then changed by the water and salt and continual movement of wind and weather.

These pieces of work are the result of my years of looking and making. they are often a statement of relationships and family trauma and joy.                                                                  

                                 

              

       Sometimes they are just themselves!  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Together they make a statement about life and family and all those ordinary things that are really 

extra-ordinary!                                                                     

Hedgehog in the Dish

I'm following a great blog called Hog Blog, all about the hedgehogs that he photographs in the garden at night. We often have hedgehogs in the back field, and now and again they venture up to the house ,just as this little one did.

Getting Growing

When we see the snowdrops and then the crocuses in bloom, then we know we've got to get going and growing.It's as if they are the encouragers of gardeners.

So we step out into the back field at the Potters House and start the gentle act  of sorting out the packets and bags of seeds and corms.Thus begins another growing year.

Already some over-wintered goodies are emerging. The early buds of rhubarb are colouring the soil and giving us every reason to believe that in the not too distant future, rhubarb crumble will be on the menu for the family gatherings.

    Broad beans and tomato seedlings have already been started off in the warmth of the studio, and the broad beans have been moved out to one of  the greenhouses. The shoots are shooting up! 

  

Every winter one of the rustic arches decays and collapses in the winds. So one of Alan's first jobs is making a new one from long straight branches found on the hazel, hawthorn or willows growing in the back field.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                       If you are any thing like me you will have bought bulbs last autumn that are languishing in a box or basket in the greenhouse. Why do we do that ? Poor things. I often shove them in in early spring a hope that they will give a show even if it's a bit late!  I want to grow sunflowers, sweet pea, morning glory and most of all cosmos this summer. I have the seeds, I just need to make sure that I actually plant them.                                                 

Week-end at The bay

We spent a few days this weekend at our house by the coast.  Even if the weather isn't always wonderful, the freedom from business, phone and computer restores our souls! But the weather on Friday was sunny and bright and there's nothing like a walk on the promenade to relax you. Even better, a glass of Guinness drunk while gazing out to sea. The view across Morecambe Bay can be clear and sharp or hazy and mystical. You look out on to a hundred square miles of water or sand, depending on the turn of the tide. In the distance are the Lakeland Hills and the mountains behind them.

On Saturday we went back again for the Midland Afternoon Tea.  Sandwiches, cut the way Aunt Cis always did, scone, jam and clotted cream, crisp orange biscuits, carrot cake and cream buns. A feast. We had to wrap the biscuits and carrot cake in the napkins and take them back to the house for later. but apart from that we managed very well!  

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Did you think I could ignore today? A happy St. Patrick's day to all Irish, half-Irish,quarter- Irish, those who would be Irish,those who live in Ireland, those who would like to live in Ireland and those who know someone Irish. I think I've just about covered everything.

Living in England and married to an English man, with English children and grandchildren, I have to celebrate my Irishness. So there's the shamrock cake, green icing of course,Guinness,whisky, cheering for the rugby team. But St. Patrick, now lets say it quietly,he was English! All along the northwest coast of England they claim his birthplace. Morecambe Bay has quite a reasonable claim, the north coast Lakes and some of Dumfrieshire [which says it's Scottish!] also. I joined an Icon painting group last year at Hyning Monastery in north Lancashire. It was not looked upon too kindly that I wanted to paint [or as they say officially] write St. Patrick. There was little to follow, so I kind of made him up.I thought he would be kind, lots of the traditional Icons look quite fierce. As the McClellands came originally from the same area, I thought perhaps he might have a bit of a look of my dad. I thought he wouldn't want to be as grand as some of the other Icon saints. Who knows. I loved making him up. There are lots of things we will never know and sometimes the joy is just to dream!

                I believe that this is where Patrick eventually rested,in this lovely garden graveyard not far from the school I attended in Belfast.They say he was well over a hundred years old when he died,and most of that time he spent in Ireland.So England may have birthed him, but Ireland sustained him. I'm going over for a week to refuel my Irishness and when I come back you may have to get a translation when I talk to you, as Belfast will have done it's job. 

                                        Slainte!