Posts

In praise of brick

/in , /by

Bradlow Hill was a cold and finger-numbing walk on Sunday morning – and foggy too; you can hardly see the steeple of St Michael’s in the distance. It was quiet, except for the sound of St Michael’s bells tolling in the background. Click and you’ll get a short video, I’d stopped panting by then – you know you’re getting old when you’re told to slow down by your doctor and not the police. Too early for snowdrops or any plant to show itself, so I thought I’d include images of vases with daffodils in them – to remind you that Spring is always around the corner.

Turning a corner without looking, I stubbed my toe on a brick the other day. Instead of throwing it away in anger I picked it up and studied its surface texture and subtle colouring, its weight and the simplicity of its shape. “The humble brick is worthy of respect,” said Spiro (marketing director of Peter Arscott Ceramics), “but in Cyprus in my day (3rd Century BC) stone was deemed the nobler for building places of worship.” I was about to say something, but he raised his hand in that weird ecclesiastical way that Bishops have, and continued: “I hope you’re not thinking of comparing it to the pieces that come out of our kiln here at PAC?  I accept that they are made by hand, but they are hardly unique or one-off. The purpose of this website is to promote beautiful and interesting works of ceramic art – harping on about bricks would be like dancing en pointe in hobnail boots”.

Well, Spiro can sometimes get it wrong – after all, he is man who believes that goat’s yoghurt is the ambrosia of the gods. Anyway, the brick gets a raw deal. In my view it’s overlooked or dismissed, this man-made building material that dates back to 7000BC, discovered at the site of an ancient settlement around the city of Jericho. It’s entered our language too. We bang our heads against a brick wall, accuse the less intelligent of being as thick as a brick, or the barmy of being a few bricks short of a full load, and we come down on the wayward and mischievous like a ton of bricks.

Jericho. Photo A. Soblowski

So, in praise of bricks, here are some facts. The most common bricks are made from clay and heated at a 1000℃ – here at PAC our stoneware is glaze-fired at 1200℃. There is minimal waste in the production process as only an insignificant amount of minerals and moisture vanish during the heating process. Bricks are energy efficient because they hold sunlight throughout the day and release that energy after the sun goes down.

The indentation in the surface of a brick is called a frog, and debate rages over whether the bricks should be laid frog-up or frog-down. The minerals used to create a brick determine its colour. Red bricks are red because of the iron in them, higher temperature firings produce darker coloured bricks, and a London brick is yellowish because of the magnesium contained in the brick earth.

The Ledbury viaduct

The other (good) reason for talking about bricks is that there’s a new path inaugurated in Ledbury which allows you to walk under and alongside the old railway viaduct. Up close it’s a beautiful structure, satisfying because it’s both pleasing to the eye as well as practical – in terms of design, a perfect example of something built the way it was in order to fulfil its brief: to carry trains over a low dip of meadowland. Its function is its beauty.

Skew bridge over the Hereford Rd

It was built by the Colwall engineer Stephen Ballard (1804-1861) and was opened in June 1861. His brother Robert Ballard made the five million bricks used in the 19-metre high, 31-arch construction on site, or rather, his workers did – it would have been too much for one pair of hands. The result was that brickworks sprang up around Ledbury to cope with the task of providing the material to construct the viaduct. While digging the cutting by the station, Ballard’s workmen came upon the Silurian fossils of a mammoth and of a bivalve, which allowed the local geological system to be worked out (before you ask, the Silurian period began 443.8 million years ago and ended 419.2 million years ago).

Not a mammoth or a bivalve

The many workmen involved lived in temporary shelters just outside Ledbury near Wellington Heath, an area that became known as Monkey Island because of the workers climbing up and down the huge structure. As far as I know, other than the name, there is no sign left of their time here. This in turn made me think of the anonymous bricklayer whose work we take for granted, and of a poem by Jonathan Davidson, poet, writer, brick lover and author of A Commonplace, a verse of which goes:

“…And they are dumb or gone away or dead

Who cut the sweet, pale clay

Of sentences and fired them

In common kilns to make

The narratives that keep us home and dry…”

(from Brickwork by Jonathan Davidson / A Commonplace: Apples, Bricks & Other People’s Poems)

That’s enough about bricks. For reasons both complex and tedious, our kiln has had a sabbatical and only very few pieces have been made, other than a flurry of creativity when the grandchildren visited. “It’s a chance to show images of early PAC work”, says Spiro, “to show the variety and range. And by the way, this blog is getting too text heavy.” As a result, behold a scattering of ceramic images throughout.

Spiro’s friends, the goats at Bradlow, seem to be thriving. They have extraordinary eyes, like octopuses and toads, rectangular pupils that help them avoid predators, giving them a greater accuracy of depth perception in their peripheral vision. This is enhanced by a feature that lets them rotate their eyes to keep their pupils parallel with the horizon when they bend their heads low to feed – I don’t know about your eating habits, but this sounds to me a useful ability to have.  But it’s strange being stared at by a goat, it’s as if they’re thinking about something you don’t know.

Passageway under viaduct

Capriccio

/in , /by

Ceramics is more than just playing with mud, as has been discussed on this site before. It ranges from the functional and commercial to the personal and expressive, from pieces that demand no attention because they exist to hold a pile of sandwiches to pots that require effort from the viewer as you move around the object, examining details and angles that provide an emotional connection with the maker.

Tabu teapot by Angus Suttie at the Sunday Painter gallery

In London recently, and on a visit to The Sunday Painter gallery, the work of Angus Suttie (1946 – 1993) was on display. His approach was described as “tapping the subconscious to see what happens”, and he turned out work that is humorous, direct and engaged. Strong vertical or horizontal shapes, with twisted forms, holes and conduits, piled-up different forms from smaller parts, playful and probably unplanned from the start, they are “awkward and beautiful” as he himself described the work. The exhibition is on until 26th October – click here for the link, if you’re anywhere near the South Lambeth Rd, drop in.

Red and Green dancing vase – Peter Arscott Ceramics

That element of play is important. Starting out without a clear plan or design in mind can lead to all sorts of interesting outcomes, specially with hand-building when you can cut the clay and shape it as you build your piece. At Peter Arscott Ceramics the vessel is still king, and is the basis for all work, but sometimes functionality is not obvious, or, rather, not relevant, as the personality of the piece takes shape – often in a whimsical direction.

Poseur vase

“Whimsical” is such a strange-sounding word. “Whimsical derives from whim-wham, a noun from the early 16th century that originally referred to an ornamental object or trinket. Later whim-wham, with its fun sound, came to refer to a fantastic notion or odd fancy” (Merriam-Webster dictionary). So that explains it: whimsical, quirky, capricious.

Lone goat

There is nothing capricious about setting off to walk up to Bradlow Knoll – it is a serious undertaking for two-legged beings of a certain age whose gamboling days are long behind them. However, this latest walk led to an encounter which put a spring in the step, as the recent fencing layout on the hill was eventually explained by the number of goats grazing. As all walkers know “When setting out upon an important journey, it’s good luck to meet a goat.”

Apologies for my lexicographical meanderings – it’s probably a phase. There are two theories as to how the word “capricious” is derived.  It comes via French from the Italian word capriccio, which originally referred not to a sudden desire but to a sudden shiver of fear. It probably comes from the Italian capo, meaning “head,” and riccio, the word for “hedgehog” – anyone who shuddered in fear was said to have a “hedgehog head,” meaning that the person’s hair stood on end like the spines of a hedgehog.

Capriccio vase, or St Sebastian vase.

My preferred theory is the possible link to Italian word “capra”, meaning “goat,” because of the animal’s perceived whimsical nature. Anyway, they are sociable animals, intelligent and curious, and, thanks to them, coffee was first discovered when Ethiopian goat herders noticed the animals acting energetically after nibbling coffee beans, though I prefer the version where the abbot of a monastery full of lazy monks saw the effect on his goats and fed the beans to his brethren.

Cockerel vase

St Spyridon, patron saint of potters and former goat herd, known by the PAC team in the studio simply as Spiro (in charge of Marketing) is keen that we know that goats are one of the cleanest animals, though they dislike water and would rather leap over streams and puddles than step in them. They also use the sneeze sound to warn each other of danger. Fact: the pharaoh Cephranes thought that so much of his goats that he had 2,234 buried with him. Spiro also says that goat yoghurt is the best – that’s all he eats.

Autumnal vase

As you can see from the image at the start of this blog, the view from Bradlow Knoll in early October gives every appearance that summer is still with us. The only tree that is turning autumnal is the horse chestnut, and there are not many in the neighbourhood: ash, hawthorn, hazel, blackthorn, sycamore and apple are more common in Herefordshire. This time of year is all about apples and cider-making, and in the cluster of villages around Much Marcle, the Big Apple Harvest festival takes place on 12th and 13thOctober. You can visit the local orchards, see, hear and smell cider and perry being made and taste and buy many different varieties of apples, local ciders, perries and apple juices. Click here.

Michaelmas daisies

Michaelmas daisies are all out now. They are a sure sign of Autumn and are so called because they reach their peak on or around the 29 September, Michaelmas Day, or The Feast of Michael and All Angels, signifying the end of the harvest, the start of autumn and the beginning of the shorter days.

A couple invited the local vicar for Sunday dinner. While they were in the kitchen preparing the meal, the minister asked their son what they were having.
“Goat,” the little boy replied.
“Goat?” replied the vicar, “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” said the youngster. “I heard Dad say to Mom, ‘Today is just as good as any to have the old goat for dinner.’