The pots are finished. The window sill shrine to the artisan is complete.There’s my parents at the back, four sisters and four little Milton Head tiles representing their families
Our passing fads are gathered in little shrines. Some fads are discarded, some tag along with us, becoming the touchstones, catch alls for memories; gathered on shelves; alcoves; sills; little shrines.There are secrets in our homes; stolen ideas, false attribution, false gods and idolatry. A copy of Girl with a Dove; a derivative Barbara Hepworth; a cheeky Litchtenstein imitation. But worshipping a false god, the artist, is preferable to worshipping the god of white socks, straw boaters, good manners, the child baiter, the worshipper of gold and glam vestments without the drumming, bass and rhythm.
Here’s a lovely little church; Milton Head Pottery Brixham 1950-59 (that’s my dad on the right and John Jones on the left)
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