Whilst walking through Stoke –on –Trent I noticed that like many towns it is built on layers. However there is something different about this city. It lies on fields of ceramic, china and empty crisp packets.

We can’t get out of the mind-set, that when art is not sold it remains personal when it does get sold it becomes another part of the market.

Within the Church the beauty of the Art is in its Tradition, its stability. By comparison, in the modern day Supermarkets, Art is used as a Tool, a device to entrap those who view it. Here the pandering to the popularity of its commodities on sale is warped to suit the wants and needs of the market.

People believe by giving back the ceramic and china  to its origins it will restore the…mana the spirit of things, however once clay is fired it can no longer return to clay . Which makes me question whether there is any richness left?  Although the earth has given stoke a gift it’s like it’s been disposed of like a plastic bag….. like many valuable resources was Stoke raped by Capitalism? Was it conquered by monsters of a high power?

The broken pieces now no longer have a price. ‘The labourer produced not for himself but for the capital.’ (Karl Marx) V.I

Every little counts

In the dark cracks of soil, there is light, visitors are able to collect a part of Stoke-on-Trent for themselves a physical piece. It  becomes someone’s yet again.  These parts are free to whomever ever picks up a piece, the spirit of mana is returned to the creator of the gift rather than the surplus commodity. It is returned to the ‘self’ which is where the creativity lies that cannot be sold.

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As well as the video, performance – photographs. I want to make a book full with the photographs of the journey and areas implying some of the questions that were asked, and answered by local people in Stoke, some of the answers were so weird, beautiful and surprising.

HOW DO I MAKE A PRINTABLE/ONLINE BOOK? (as I type into google)

I’m currently using BookWright, it seems easy enough. I think I might have the book purely visual.


The footage was examined in a similar way I’d feel clay , the narrative was built from the research and footage, and needs work but it’s something I can toy with.


An egg made up of protein, similar in nature

Cells split, divide, develop, die

Politics natural (?)


Where is the wedgwood?

Digging from the burial site

There is nothing but tombstones

The shards of ceramic thread through

My swollen hands, slicing through nail

Piecing back time with nothing but sand


Who feels? The clay

Monsters, objects within objects

Making the foundations for more

Stacking each shelf with plates

How many more plates?

For a land that won’t house



Where are you Wedgwood?

A £50 pound cup?

I think I saw you in Devon

Where the clay lathered rich feet

Anyway you weren’t home


Amongst the crisp packets,

And broken bottles are pieces

that belonged

To someone


Now what we’re left


Homes for broken pieces


An escapade of wealth, in the midst

Of a beckoning fall

What’s left (?) everything

And nothing


The birds circle, each one takes flight

I’m accused,


I hold out my hands

Feeling the air between each finger

Failing to take flight, with clay wings

I give myself to the ground



It’s somewhere (?)

a distant place

I believe it’s green, but I’m colour blind

There’s a window in the distance. I can see it, like a pin prick, but I know it’s a window

And it’s cold outside


Pollination , nature

What is nature?


Yellow , black


Key words

Flux :- City in flux, movement > OPPOSITE of Flux – decay

Decay:- social, political, enviromental + Visual > poetically seems to be embedded in people and or stripped – Capitalism

Stripped:- taken away, clay fired = no longer malleable , cold > ceramic = surplus = supermarket

Dead= no value >OPPOSITE to dead, birth>growth

Growth> green grass that spouts through the concrete