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Bees are potters

As you can see from the view from Bradlow Knoll, it was a bright sunny day for a stroll up the hill. What you can’t see is the cool breeze blowing, which made it perfect walking weather. It may not have been a breeze exactly, it was a notch above that, maybe a gust – it wasn’t a waft, zephyr, breath, puff or flurry. It was strong enough to make the trees in Frith Wood whisper, a symphony overhead and a symphony of blue at your feet: the bluebells at their peak.

When you’re bent forward struggling up a hill, your nose is closer to the ground than usual. Which is how I noticed the first Solitary bee crawling out of a hole in the soil. They nest anywhere, and though they are called Solitary bees (or Mining bees) they live alone in burrows but close together in large groups. Not for them the collective work and pressures of the beehive, or the social structure of the honeybee. There are 250 or so species in the UK, including the Tawny mining bee, the Hairy-footed flower bee and the Queen bumblebee. If you find one on the ground looking exhausted, it’s because they need energy: give them a drop of water with sugar (and watch them drink it with their proboscis) and they’ll eventually take off and go back to work. And they won’t sting if you pick them up.

Acton vase – stoneware 46 x 40 cms

Why am I going on about bees and not about ceramics? Before Spyro (marketing) admonished me for not promoting ceramics, my bit of research showed that these ground-nesting bees were working with clay, shaping mud with their mandibles and waterproofing their chambers with waxy secretions millions of years ago. Bees have been master clay workers longer than flowering plants have existed in their current forms. In other words, these bees are ceramicists. They were working clay thousands of years before humans even thought of using mud to make a vessel.

Spyro, being a third century goatherd as well as a bishop (and patron saint of potters), and fond of goat yoghurt, is all for this blog mentioning bees because he loves to pour honey on his. Ziggy, being a spider and therefore a fly specialist, is indifferent.

Miner bee habitat

A brief digression: there are hundreds of Mining bee burrows on a grass strip along a road in Ledbury which for years has been sprayed with a (relatively safe) weedkiller in order to allow drivers a clear view of oncoming traffic. It’s the responsibility of a housing association which, when contacted, were very reasonable and understanding, and confirmed they’ll stop spraying, and may even start seeding it. A victory for nature. Oh if only we humans always listened to each other and acted rationally. Now we just need to apply it to the Straits of Hormuz.

Greater Stitchwort

Because it’s early Spring, the woodland plants are at their best, specially on the edges as you walk into the cool shade of the trees. Once deep inside the canopy, the bluebells and stitchwort take over. Mindful that being outside in the sunshine helps increase vitamin D, which gives your immune system an extra boost, walking through woodland is good for the senses, with different things to see, hear, smell and touch – just don’t touch the nettles, which sting in a treacherous manner when you are reaching in to take a snap of the other (prettier) plants. Not that I want to be unfair to nettles, April is the time to pick the tops off, ideally with washing up gloves. Once you put them in to boil the sting vanishes and you can make nettle soup. Here’s a link to a recipe.

Red signal vase

Talking of gloves, after a long session pounding and shaping stoneware clay (ungloved) for the latest batch of vases I noticed, not for the first time, that my hands felt very smooth for a day or two. Of course, we’ve seen pictures of people with their faces covered in mud, so it must be generally accepted that clay is good for the skin. Over time, I expect to be rewarded with skin that’s soft, smooth, and more radiant than ever. Next time you meet a potter, insist on shaking hands, just to test this theory, but don’t hold on for too long otherwise it’ll look weird.

Herb Robert

“Soft hands” implies that you do little proper work, so again, be careful not to tell a potter he or she has soft hands or they may take it the wrong way. Apparently it’s become a meme and is used to tease people with smooth, uncalloused hands by comparing them to someone who works 100 hours a day in a coal mine, showers in diesel oil, washes his hands in gravel and dries them with sandpaper.

I know we’re going off on another tangent but it can’t be helped. The Potter’s Hand by A. N. Wilson is a wonderful book about Josiah Wedgwood, master ceramicist, who embarks upon the now famous thousand-piece Frog Service for Catherine the Great, and includes Josiah’s nephew Tom’s journey to America to buy clay from the Cherokee for this project. He falls in love with a Cherokee woman who becomes involved in the masterpiece called the Portland Vase, which you can see at the British Museum.

Large listening vase – stoneware

To see a ceramic piece made by the fair and velvety hands of Peter Arscott Ceramics you can visit the Cecilia Colman Gallery in London, or the Palais des Vaches in Exbury.

Three legged imp vase

Potters and solitude

The view from Bradlow Knoll

Trudging up Bradlow Hill I noticed that the mayflower was in full bloom. What we call “mayflower” is actually hawthorn, a pagan symbol of fertility with ancient associations with May Day, and its blossoming marks the point at which spring turns into summer. This was a cheering thought, as a large vase destined for a gallery had cracked in the kiln the day before and one’s mind needed some distraction.

Mayflower

In the studio, the radio is always on, in part to accompany the ongoing work and to fend off any feelings of aloneness, though there is nothing wrong with a bit of solitude when making vases. As regular readers of this blog know, my team consists of Ziggy (a spider), Thelonious (a pugmill) and Saint Spyridon, (third century Bishop of Trimythous in charge of marketing) – all of them, possibly, not real.

Leaf vase

An important factor in converting aloneness into solitude is that it is voluntary, instead of imposed. As such, it becomes a creative and productive state. It helps concentration, but sometimes it can get to people. For example, a researcher at a station in Antarctica stabbed a colleague (non-fatally), though this may have happened because the victim was giving away the endings of books the attacker was reading.

Antartica. Photo Giuseppe Zibardi

This information is being given out freely by Peter Arscott Ceramics (PAC) because only the other day, seated alone at the workspace and eating a banana, a small unhappy voice was heard in the studio. Looking down at the banana in hand I noticed that it was looking up at me. Don’t tell me that’s not the saddest little world-weary face you’ve seen in a while.

Unhappy

“You shouldn’t be eating me, you know.”

“Is that why you look so sad?”

“No. It’s just that the monoculture production methods used to grow us can destroy entire ecosystems.  I bet you didn’t realize that the banana industry consumes more agrochemicals than any other in the world, except cotton.’

“Well I never.”

“And the low prices paid by supermarkets and the cost cutting by fruit companies as they relocate in search of cheaper labour, and the harsh conditions in plantations…’

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yes, and none of the other fruit in the fruit bowl talk to me.”

Wormery

Despite feelings of guilt, I finished off the banana, then chopped up the skin and fed it to the inhabitants of the PAC wormery alongside the studio. At least they don’t talk to me, and the skin was put to good use.

Green wobble vase

Back on Bradlow Hill, my mind filled with images of cracked pots, Puritans on the Mayflower, talking bananas and Antarctic research stations, these gradually faded away as the birdsong in the wood took over. I recorded some for you – the loudest is probably a robin, some blackbirds and a chiff chaff, as well as a distant ambulance on its way to Worcester Hospital. You’ll need full volume to get all that.

Click here: birdsong

The bluebells were past their pomp, but the stitchwort was flecking the undergrowth with white, and there was a lot of campion in the hedgerows.

Stitchwort

In parts of Africa the campion is used by Xhosa diviners: the roots are ground, mixed with water, and beaten to a froth, which is consumed by novice diviners during the full moon to influence their dreams.

Campion

Given that this type of campion cannot be found in Herefordshire, PAC recommends buying a good bottle of Ribera del Duero instead. The better the wine, the sweeter the dream. Perhaps the resulting pot, a very impractical and possibly useless wine decanter, is the result.

Droop decanter

Still on the subject of wine, over-consumption of the grape, even if it’s the Queen of Grapes, Tempranillo, can lead to moments of euphoria to be followed the next day by terrible remorse and anguish. In an unusual attempt at public information and to highlight the issue of the seductive lure of alcohol and its consequences, PAC would like to introduce the following piece:

Saturday night, Sunday morning vase

Psychoceramics is the study of crackpot ideas about human behaviour – get it? “Crack pots”?  (Also, Psycho Ceramics were a range of novelty ceramics made by US-based Kreiss company and manufactured in Japan between the 1960s and 1970s). However, PAC would like to associate the word with the more subtle art of depicting the mind or mental processes – psykho, (Greek) meaning “the soul, mind, spirit, or invisible animating entity which occupies the physical body”. PAC would like to think that the above is an example of psychoceramics, as is the next one:

Why? Perhaps because it is a “personality”. Whereas other pieces may highlight a particular colour to effect, or hint at landscape, or get across the idea of spring, or even jazz music, others have their own particular and less easily described temperament which is a bit more than just the sum of its shape, colours and brushstrokes. For example, we like the following piece because it’s a gentle play on a grid and geometrical shapes – it’s attractive enough, but what it offers is essentially decorative:

What do you think, dear reader? Is PAC barking up the wrong tree? Is it all too subjective for a theory? Have we been talking to fruit too often? Can bananas ever look happy? Did you know that the Latin name for banana is musa sapientum, which translates as fruit of the wise men? Please send us your thoughts.

psychoceramic or articeramic?