July Monthly Analysis of Progress

My penultimate month. That is beginning to feel very real. Two years have passed remarkably quickly, yet at the same time it feels as though I have been immersed in this project for far longer. Looking back over the work produced during my MA, I have become increasingly aware of how much my confidence, technical ability and understanding of my own practice have developed. Perhaps more importantly, I can now recognise the decisions I make as being informed by critical reflection rather than simply instinct.

This month involved stepping briefly outside my ceramic practice to undertake a project that I felt would strengthen and complement the work rather than distract from it. Before discussing my ceramic developments, it is worth reflecting on this project, as it has become another way of communicating the narrative world that underpins my practice.

Building on the folder I produced for Ceramic Wales, I developed the idea of creating a book to house my narratives. Rob had previously suggested producing a photographic book to accompany my MA, but the idea never quite sat comfortably with me. My practice is rooted within a fictional Victorian world, centred around a dilapidated travelling freakshow, and I wanted any supporting material to feel as though it belonged within that universe rather than existing as contemporary documentation. After researching commercially available books, I realised that nothing reflected either the aesthetics or the atmosphere of my work. Rather than compromise, I decided to make one myself.

Interestingly, this project was undertaken almost entirely through intuition rather than formal planning. As it sat outside the assessed element of the MA, I allowed myself the freedom to follow ideas as they emerged. Over several weeks I compiled lists of possible sections, gathered materials and considered how the book could function as more than simply a collection of stories. I also invited questions from my personal social media friends, recognising that these reflected the kinds of conversations people often have when encountering my work. Including these within the book transforms it from a passive object into something that actively supports engagement with the narratives.

Leaving space within the design proved to be one of the most valuable decisions. Rather than viewing the book as a finished object from the outset, I approached it as something capable of evolving. Unsurprisingly, as the build progressed, new ideas continually emerged and the project expanded both in length and complexity. This reinforced something that has become increasingly evident throughout my MA: making is often a thinking process. Solutions and creative opportunities frequently arise through the act of construction rather than during initial planning.

The project took approximately three weeks to design, source materials for and complete. I am genuinely pleased with the outcome. Had I allowed myself longer, the book could quite happily have continued to grow, but recognising when to stop is also an important part of the creative process. The finished Victorian ledger-style volume achieves exactly what I hoped it would. It presents my narratives, documents aspects of my MA journey and, perhaps most importantly, feels entirely consistent with the visual identity of my ceramic practice. Rather than functioning as supplementary documentation, it has become another artefact from within the fictional world I have created.

The process also surprised me. I discovered that I instinctively understood the engineering involved in constructing the book and encountered very few technical challenges. There are, naturally, details I would refine if I were to make another version, but this reflects iterative practice rather than failure. The project has also demonstrated that my practice extends beyond clay. Narrative, object-making and materiality are becoming increasingly interconnected, with each informing and strengthening the other.

Returning to ceramics, my first objective this month was to complete the revised trio of plaques. Having reflected on the earlier versions, I made a series of relatively subtle alterations that collectively have a significant impact on the finished work.

Lady Delores required the fewest changes. Shortening and widening her beak creates a stronger relationship with the stylised proportions found elsewhere within my practice, allowing her character to feel more cohesive. Deaders received additional metallic glazing, smaller ears and top hats for each of the tiny skulls. Individually these are modest adjustments, but together they increase both the aesthetic and the clarity of the narrative.

Scrawny underwent the greatest transformation. Raising his position within the composition immediately strengthened the overall balance of the plaque, while introducing the hammered surface finally resolved something that had felt incomplete in previous builds. Throughout this project I have often spoken about searching for the missing piece of a design. In Scrawny's case, I genuinely feel I have found it. The texture gives him an energy and presence that had previously been absent.  He feels more accomplished.

The wrought iron glaze proved particularly successful across all three plaques, but especially on Scrawny. As it breaks gently across the raised hammered texture, it creates subtle tonal variation that enhances both the physical surface and the aged aesthetic central to my Victorian narrative. Likewise, reducing the amount of dirty wash allows more of the glaze to remain visible, creating greater visual depth without overwhelming the surface detail. These refinements demonstrate how repeated making has shifted my attention from broad design decisions towards increasingly nuanced surface considerations.

Having completed the plaques, I turned my attention to the trio of busts. These developed directly from earlier investigations undertaken in preparation for Ceramic Wales, where I produced both a large bust based on my original drawing and a smaller experimental version. This latest series allowed me to build on those initial explorations with greater confidence.

I began by constructing three identical plinths, each smaller than the previous versions. Their engineering was carefully considered to encourage airflow throughout the structure, incorporating both internal supports and cavities that would allow moisture to escape through the base during drying and firing. Technical decisions such as these have become increasingly instinctive throughout my MA and reflect a growing understanding of the relationship between construction and successful firing.

Rather than using monoprinting for the name plaques, I hand-piped each character's name using black slip. Although more time-consuming, this process introduced subtle variations that complement the handmade nature of the work. The slight inconsistencies contribute to the Victorian aesthetic rather than detract from it.

As I had previously produced two versions of Scrawny, I began with him. Incorporating the hammered texture from the plaque immediately established a stronger visual connection between the different bodies of work. The build progressed without issue and I personalised his plinth with small stars. After all, he is the star of the show.

Lady Delores Raphus-Schilling evolved more significantly. Rather than faithfully reproducing my original drawing, I reduced her body to the crop and upper wings, allowing the form to become more sculptural than illustrative. This decision required considerably more making time but ultimately produced a stronger piece. Continuing the dimpled texture across both her head and crop also reinforced consistency within her character design.

Unfortunately, Lady Delores refused to cooperate. Despite slow drying beneath plastic, the upper section of the plinth cracked and began lifting at the join. Catching the problem early allowed me to carry out repeated repairs using vinegar slip, which fortunately proved successful. More dramatically, while attempting to level the base, I discovered that the damp clay had effectively vacuum-sealed itself to my workbench. What followed was a lengthy and rather stressful rescue operation involving wiring the piece away millimetre by millimetre, repairing damaged flowers, rebuilding part of the decorative plaque and restoring the damaged base.

Whilst immensely frustrating, the experience reinforced the importance of understanding not only clay itself but also the surfaces on which it is worked. It also served as a reminder that successful making often depends less upon avoiding problems than developing the confidence to solve them. Following the earlier damage sustained by the larger Lady Delores, I am beginning to suspect that dodos simply enjoy testing my patience. Perhaps there is a reason they became extinct after all.

The final bust was Jago Deaders RIP 1881. This remained largely faithful to the original design, although I relocated the tiny mouse skull and crossbones to the plinth and replaced the furry chest with his butler's bow tie. The wings required careful engineering to ensure they were structurally secure without appearing heavy. By fixing each wing to the back, shoulder and side of the head, I was able to achieve the delicate appearance I wanted while maintaining strength.

As with the plinths, airflow remained a primary consideration throughout construction. Internal cavities within each figure connect with the engineered plinths, allowing any residual moisture to travel safely through the piece during drying and firing. These construction methods have evolved considerably throughout the MA and demonstrate a much greater understanding of ceramic engineering than I possessed at the beginning of the course.

Thankfully, the firing passed entirely without incident. I opted for a particularly slow firing schedule to account for the complexity of the engineered plinths, although they were fully dry before entering the kiln. The additional caution was worthwhile and reflects the increasingly considered approach I now take towards managing technical risk.

The final stage will involve dirty washing and glazing, which will fall into August's schedule. Looking back over the month as a whole, what strikes me most is not simply the number of pieces completed, but the increasing cohesion of the practice itself. The narratives, the ceramic objects and now the accompanying book all work together to create a richer experience than any single element could achieve alone. Earlier in the MA I questioned whether my stories and ceramics could exist independently of one another. I now find myself arriving at a different conclusion. They are no longer separate components but interconnected parts of a single narrative practice, each strengthening the experience of the others.