With Liz i visited museums, galleries and one exhibition

I noticed a big difference between the gallery/museum space and the exhibition space, especially when i went to the third year ceramics exhibition(s). I noticed at both these exhibitions and the ai wei wei exhibition that the artist will act informatively giving more context to their work using additions to their space. This behaviour is more frequent in the sculptural projects, utility objects such as teapots simply lie waiting to be handled and bought.

When museums aim to engage children they include activities, this aspect could be as simple as “look through the hole” or how we saw in William Morris ;the build your own stain glass window game and the fabric you could feel, the puppet show area. I think that this experience appeals to me more than that in the V&A in the sense that a single point of seriousness ceases to exist, the content still engaging for an adult but simply a structure in which silence and being serious isn’t the necessary answer for everybody in the room.

Quietly experiencing objects as they appear in front of our slow moving bodies and taking the time to see them completely, can this process even be released and un-restricted? It can be the contrast between our wooden box-glass door box and the touchable things which allow us to feel safe moving around faster. but can the exhibition space become a place where people begin to engage more playfully?

The poem is about my practice in relation to the gallery context with an argument presented imagining a gallery which accords with my understanding of ceramic.

At the beginning of the poem I am reasoned with by others who treat ceramics and their making practice, I am being reminded of the fragility of what we are making.

I use the conversational attitude to express my familiarity with these people, the first part of the poem is meant to show ceramic community.

I then express my desire to be exhibited in galleries, I want to be successful exhibiting but I don’t want my work to become untouchable literally and without the air of prestige(untouchable could be seen as meaning prestige). To reach each simple viewer becoming their “comrades” is the community inspired aspect of this exhibition.

I use the image of fantasy and religion to explain how one may experience my work, they see the big pieces such as the “Gods, Goliaths” and the “charms” which represent smaller items they can hold in their hand such as the quickly recognisable crucifix one may carry.

The benefit of providing miniatures would be that the viewer would be able to feel the vast object while leaving it at arms length. Therefore the viewer is both accepting that they must respect the object as art while being able hold it like a simple piece of ceramics.

In the last part I highlight the texture of the ceramic as the primary sense experienced once holding it, this is the part which they truly cannot experience when they see the object displayed at arms length on a plinth. I personally imagine these miniatures as segments of the existing texture on the piece, like a sample sheet.

I finish the poem using nature as a metaphor for the feeling of interacting with the works in this vague way. this communicates that I feel this interaction with ceramic is not only nice but natural. As ceramicists I think we have an intuition to feel pieces, though many ceramicists understand that clay is delicate I think that leaving a piece in a well dusted glass cabinet puts it into a “untouchable, celebrity piece” context .

feeling when its greenware ,we don’t feel;

its greenware.

(you’d)Etch away a detail, its decay;

accidental evil.

break,ceramic.

careful, pause.

its absolutely crockery;

fragile, careless!

and please don’t make a mockery I’m fragile now also

yet you seem utterly authentic,

really sound as if you meant it,

that’s good, keep it!

that’s a time consuming piece too!

How can it be ornate, if it is touched?

untouchable, celebrity piece;

well regarded and discussed

is where i’d like to be.

but i’d rather leave it feeling alike,

your comrade piece,

bog standard.

no need for careful manners,

(be)cause i want both mantras.

can one reside upon a plinth and in your hand

I’d make a piece to chew, but ethically can’t;

sensory touch, sensory dictates who i am .

let us build gods, goliaths and also lucky charms.

A crucifix squeezed into palms.

collectables are novel;

smaller things, fixable.

want to be held in your arms not simply gazed at ;

feel the depths, the texture and glaze;

ripples ,tears run your finger over them,

and take-away.

like the flowers from a garden you passed;

run your hands through the foliage the grass

of a clay meadow.

Textures in the depths beneath the sight and sound waves.

An exemplar of how though my pieces may be considered more beautiful they are obviously far more time consuming.

the poem is a dialogue written from my perspective (as a student) about how my care for design differs from those who own large factories which distribute a mass of objects “unethically”, the poem is between me and a personofied industrial villain say perhaps an owner of a large disposable vape manufacturer or a wasteful and unethical fashion retailer such as Shein. (FV). These so called Factory Villains have angered my generation with their unethical, wasteful practise and their overbearing desire to produce and sell goods. The poem asks the question of how and why these FVs are truly wrong when they do not ask these questions themselves yet depend on this industry in order to exist as human beings in the world we all live in today.

These factories are described as being at war with the planet which represents the urgency with which these manufacturers produce goods(like the expression arms race).

These factories are personified as a human being with human characteristics such as love, dislike and boredom. this means that they must earn a living just like most creatives, designers.

In my practice i feel beyond accountable for exactly what i make, i consider the pieces a part or an extension of myself.

In the poem i imagine FV is a maker like myself, and these products they are responsible for as their pieces are indirectly “touched” formed and hence represent them.

The poem summarises that i am able to criticise FV from a place of privilege as i have little issues which get between me and my design ethics. I would liked to have referenced my design education more but essentially “an enlightened middle-classian” was meant to create a sense of privileged obnoxious-ness.

Since the reader is meant to understand the reference as to the nature of FV then the statement beginning with “couldn’t you slave away for hours at a desk” is saying that my process is an inefficient means to earn money.

My opinions are portrayed to be ludicrous, “fantasy” yet in the closing lines of the poem i approach this fantasy as my mindset towards who i want to be as a designer right now. The confused(hopefully not too confusing) phrasing represents that though i may receive criticism myself and sympathy and it was my choice alone to allow this criticism to take place i will have to educate (design what i know) myself until i can decide on what i really want and am happy to work towards for the future knowing that i will be criticised much like FV.

The final line of the poem is written as a statement because i am projecting a will to learn and decide. The statement is meant to bring a fearless attitude to the very casual conversive poem.

inconsequential ; callous, syringed metal,

delegated purpose ,amplified petal.

wax and wane approximate ;plaque, notes, treble,

must it be delicate to be divine?

must we take extra care to do things extra effortless,

excellent efficiency equivalates to us,

speaks for itself.

i touched it therefore it speaks for me,

i chose these outspoken query themes,

asking silly questions, i’d imagine it were I;

in your carbon footprints ,your shoes ,your scene.

on your factory floor amidst the war machine against the planet;

you’d be there waiting to leave, you’d have a life to live ,

because you don’t feel the damage, just the bastard partner,

or the kids you regretted since the mourning after.

but the debts, stress , food, cleaning, laws passed,

church ,mosque ,pub ,tennis court engulf all our hearts.

an enlightened middle-classian (such as I) all the while ,

rejecting your products they appear vile,

couldn’t you too slave for hours at a desk (as i do), make something beautiful a muse oh just the best.

utter slumber all my worries are at rest,

championing fantasy, challenging the rest.

conduct your own reality alone.

where we go is criticised,

we each conduct our own reality alone.

where we’ve been is sympathised,

reality alone.

where i’ll realise:

To perceive I will design what i know, until i realise my real dream.