Pot Family Tree; (or all praise the artist)

Gods come in many guises and so do places of worship, vessels for the sacrament and what we hold worthy of adoration.

School housed more glam and glitter than my weekend high life; priests in their golden threads, popingjays circling the dowdy nuns; tail feathers tucked casually into a vestment robe; the irony completely lost on them. Little shrines, fan club hysterics of the martyred groupies.

My father at first worked amongst clay, kiln, glazes and brushes. We ate and drank from his terracotta vessels, elements of fire and earth; all a bit hand of man, not very godly. Here is the beginning of my painting of a little artisan shrine. A window sill belonging to his pottery founded in the 1950’s;

Milton Head Pottery Milton Street Brixham. Our Pot Family Tree on the whitewash stones; an altar to decorative crafts and democratisation of art