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Eunice done me wrong

Storm brewing over Ledbury

The consequences of humans evolving bipedalism from a body designed to walk on four, not two, legs, include the effort required to climb a hill without running out of puff. This is what walking up to Bradlow Knoll entails – back pain, breathlessness, and aching thighs, but the reward awaits, no matter what the weather: the view down to Ledbury and beyond, though it looked ominous and buffeted by winds.

Final hurdle

But it would be easier on four legs. The fact that it is a “knoll”, which means low hill or hillock, somehow adds insult to injury. It feels more like a smallish mountain, or at least a steep hill. What’s more, when you make it to the top you are ambushed by the fifty extra steps required once in the wood to get to the very top.

Two legs good

Bipedalism. It seems that thousands of years ago our pelvis shortened, the thighs became longer, the angle of the thigh bone changed to point inwards allowing the knees to come together under our centre of gravity, allowing us to stand for a long period without getting tired. The spine curved into an S-shape helping to support the head and creating balance. Oh, and we lost our body hair.

Moe

The disadvantages of standing on two legs?  More pressure put on our spine and on our knees. The vertical position of the spine makes it more prone to back injuries. It’s also much harder on the heart and its vessels to pump blood to the entire body. And the big heavy head our spine has to carry, no wonder we lose our balance and fall when we get older.

Bighead

In the case of Moe, my bedside table mascot, he can only stand upright if his feet are wedged at an angle behind the table, otherwise his head, being too heavy for the design, forces him to collapse. Who is Moe? Those of us of a certain generation may remember Larry, Moe and Curly Joe who had us laughing when we were six or seven. Not sure their vaudeville humour has survived with time, but there is a certain nostalgia seeing them poke each other’s eyes and indulge in slapstick. Click here for The Three Stooges .

Fingers – one of the benefits of bipedalism

On the other hand, walking upright frees the hands for carrying your important tools like your mobile phone, for social display and communication like when you feel the need to welcome or insult somebody, but, most importantly, for making pots out of clay – there’s no doubt that would be difficult on all fours. Having fingers also helps.

Eunice did it

The fragility of the human frame and what it has to put up with (stress, weight, temperatures, balance) leads me, of course, to ceramics. All this was uppermost on the day of the climb to the knoll. It was cold and windy but not yet a storm. That was to come a few days later in the guise of Storm Dudley, very much a milksop of a squall compared with his successor a few days later – Storm Eunice. Presumably the next one will be a male name starting with “F” – Fred, Finnegan, Fernando, Finbar? Well, while writing this, Storm Franklyn blew in and is at the moment playing havoc with the tree in the garden. The news says there’s another on the way, and it’s called Gladys. Dudley, Eunice, Franklyn and Gladys – sounds like a polite tea party at an old people’s home.

Large Block vase

 

Large Block vase stress fracture

It was Eunice who knocked over a big garden vase, but sometimes it is the potter who is the culprit, as in the case of the large block vase. By not allowing its thick stoneware time to dry slowly and completely, sections of it dried at different times creating stress fractures that only became visible after firing. It is now useless and will be relegated to garden duties.

Big Spring vase

Big Spring vase

Sometimes the fractures are made when the potter is manipulating the clay too much, as when adjusting a handle onto the body of a vase, which is what happened with this Big Spring vase.

Big Spring vase close-up

Still on the subject of bipedalism, cows have four legs, as is well known, but not feet. They have hooves – hard, good for long distances. Good in almost any environment except sharp rocks. Very little maintenance needed. I mention them because Arscott Ceramics will be exhibiting some work at the Palais des Vaches near Southampton opening on 18th March, in collaboration with the Coastal Gallery. More about that in the next blog, but if you are nearby on the day do pencil it in your diary.

Tendril vase at the Palais des Vaches

Why do cows have hooves? Because they lactose.

I wonder if at this rate we’ll get to Storm Zebedia this year? Anyway, keep well and don’t forget to pencil in the Equinox exhibition at the Palais, which is in Hampshire, and as everybody knows, in Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly happen. So you’d be safe from the wind.

 

Peter Arscott Ceramics in Ledbury (part 1)

pink ochre vase grogged stoneware

These blogs usually spring from the places and galleries where Peter Arscott ceramics can be seen, places like Worcester, Brighton, London and Cambridge, and despite all this geographical weaving around, until now the actual heart and home of production has never been properly introduced to you: Ledbury, where you can also now see some of the recently made ceramics displayed at John Nash’s in the town centre.

C vase at John Nash

It’s a market town with the ingredients to make its High Street attractive to the eye: a curving length, a slight dip in the middle and buildings on either side that are as tall as the street is wide. Founded in 1123, it has inevitably changed a great deal since then, though the ground plan in Bishop Capella’s rent book shows that it still is the same essential High Street made up of burgages, strips of land 200 ft long and 20ft wide with house frontages onto the street and access via alleyways to the rear where animals were kept. Hard to believe when you look at the shop fronts today; the cafes, pubs, grocers and bookshops hide what is still there – a medieval layout.

Ledbury High St

A saunter down Church Lane and its carefully laid (small) cobbles is a pleasant experience but over a century ago you would have had to deal with petrified kidneys, large sea-worn flint lumps used for paving which caused terrible problems for clog-wearing Ledburians. Today anybody seen having problems walking down Church Lane might well be a local coming out of a pub late at night.

blue scoop bowl

Water used to run down the centre of Church Lane from the hill above town, Dog Hill Wood, and the lake in the grounds of Upper Hall, and gather in the dip in front of the old library, the Barrett Browning Institute, where detritus from nearby tanneries and blood from the Butchers’ Row, a row of 15 shops which originally stood in the middle of the High Street, mingled. The effluvia was blamed for the outbreak of typhoid in 1826 and eventually led to their dismantling after prolonged resistance from the occupants.

whistle, don’t thigh

One shop was saved and rebuilt behind what is now Boots, and later transferred to its present location outside the Burgage Hall – it’s a museum of curiosities: a hurdy-gurdy, pots, breastplates and a Tibetan flute fashioned from a human thigh bone; the femur of a criminal or a person who died a violent death is preferred. Alternatively, the femur of a respected teacher may be used, though I do hope none of the kids from John Masefield High School gets the wrong idea.

entrance to John Nash Interiors

Next door to the alley entrance is John Nash Interiors, contemporary and period interior design, who are showing various Peter Arscott ceramic pieces with the launch of a new collection of furniture by Andrew Martin.

three legged bowl

The Andrew Martin Interior Designer of the Year Award celebrates the best of design from around the world. Designers from all six continents take part. Every year, a panel of celebrity judges, are charged with the fiendish task of selecting one overall winner. One of this year’s judges was Elizabeth Hurley of this parish (the winner was Ohara Davies-Gaetano Interiors).

retro charger

Do drop in anytime, perhaps combining it with a visit to the Ledbury Gallery next door, and a coffee at one of the town’s seven fine cafes. If you have any time left, nip into St Michaels Church and greet the medieval being halfway up one of the pillars near the choir: the stone Manticore. It has the head of a human, body of a lion and a tail. It eats its victims whole, using its triple rows of teeth, and leaves no bones behind. The Ledbury Manticore, however, looks rather baleful, so just say “hello” and move on.

…………… (to be continued)

sad, sad Manticore