MY STORY
I’ve always loved the idea of minimalism, even when my home and workshop betray me (the practicalities of life often means the clutter accretes). So I love to make these pieces: the lines straight and undecorated, the curves mathematical, the colours mono and muted.
This is not raw brutalism; the pieces are warm, intended to be held as well as noticed. The material is heavy, the pieces are restrained and they are designed to function, to last, to please.
In a workshop in a valley in West Yorkshire, I mix, pour, demould, cure, sand, seal and polish. The radio is on (Django/The Archers). The dog wanders in silently and lets me know it’s time to walk. On the way home we pick up some veg. The hills keep us both fit. Back in the workshop, I set to work.
I mix and pour a large bowl, tap and settle the mould on the casting table. I count the pieces ready for their third polish and reach for the rags. I hold a bowl up to the window, noticing the small imperfections that make it unique. I wonder what you might do with it, where you will put it. I hope it pleases.
The dog suggests it’s time for a snack. I agree and put the kettle on.
