I was first turned on to clay at Southport School of Art in 1965 by the ceramics lecturer Monty Sirotto. I was astonished at his ability to bring the clay alive and transform it magically (or so I thought) into any form he wanted. Later, of course, I realised that his superb craft skills were honed over many years, but as an immature student it seemed like magic, and I wanted to be able to create magic myself. A year later I went to visit Monty’s brother Benny, at his pottery, Troika in St Ives. I realised that I wanted to specialise in ceramics, and applied to do a Dip.A.D. (now called a B.A. Hons.) at Stoke on Trent College of Art (now Stafford University).

As a student at Stoke, in the late 60s, I was aware that the area of ceramic sculpture was largely un-chartered territory, and that excited me and committed me to exploring clay as a sculptural material. The aesthetic that was prevalent in ceramic education at this time came directly from Japan via Bernard Leach, thrown forms with emphasis on the natural malleability of the material, and tenmouku and celadon glazes. For a teenager inspired by the exciting cultural changes in the Sixties, I had trouble conforming to the rather inhibiting course, refusing to accept anything traditional, and wanting to embrace the popular culture of the time. I was struggling to find my own voice and through sheer determination, managed to make some interesting and experimental stuff. In a memorable conversation Derek Emms told me I “tortured” clay, and to this day I have never got turned on by Bernard Leach.

I had begun two series of works that developed in different directions. The first was a series of slab-built, tin glazed, rectangular forms which provided a base for a mechanical, industrial looking printed surface. I experimented with photo-litho and silk screen to make the transfers for the surfaces. Creating transfers in this way was a very long winded process, but interesting to learn and gave the work a contemporary look. Nowadays transfers are used by everyone, and are easy to order from companies who print them.

The other series was a range of modelled and decorated everyday objects, including a giant matchbox and handbag. Of course this work belonged to the genre of Pop Art, but at the time I had no idea that the Pop Art movement was happening. It was only afterwards that lecturer Neil Malkin showed me a book about other Pop artists that I became aware of them. Neil and Colin Melbourne provided valuable support at this time. The matchbox became one of the exhibits at the first ceramic sculpture exhibition at the Craftsman and Potters shop, London. I love the everyday aspects of these pieces and the way that Pop Art celebrates the mundane and ordinary.

There was an interesting bunch of students at the time, Paul Astbury was a third year student who went on to the Royal College, I have always found his work exciting and defying most ceramic conventions. John Webber who stayed on to lecture at Stoke became an immediate friend.
One of the most memorable influences from this time was the college film club on Wednesday nights. Films included “Last Year at Marienbad”, Fellini’s Eight and a Half, and many other weird and wonderful avant-guard films. In the context of the potteries in the 1960s, where they still put sawdust on the floor in the local pub, watching these films was a mind-blowing experience.

In the early seventies I married Geoffrey, and had our daughter Heidi. In their separate ways they are my best critics, and ardent supporters, always demanding that the work retains its’ humanity and humour. Although I continued to make work during the seventies, it only really gained momentum towards the end of the decade in a series of pieces that were autobiographical and contained images of us as a family. It was the first time I made portrait busts, a taste of what was to come.

I became increasingly interested in portraits when we lived in California in the 80s. With portraits it’s always a challenge achieving a likeness but this alone is not satisfying. The sculpture has to express something about human nature, and the time in which it was made. I was fortunate to work with Bob Arneson at the University of California at Davis for a couple of years, as his assistant specialist. It was a wonderful set up, with very large kilns and I began to work on a large scale. Bob was an enlightened teacher and he showed me how to give a piece presence. I was grateful for the experience and have wonderful memories of the time.

I seem to have retained some of my early rebellion, and hate to conform to any imposed notion of ceramic good taste, but my attitude to tradition has changed and I enjoy looking at historical ceramics and using old plates and dishes. In 1998 I began an M.A. at the Royal College. It was difficult to return to being a student after lecturing for many years but the experience was very rewarding and I would recommend it to anyone. I enjoyed meeting, and talking with many of the lecturers who had also spent their lives dedicated to making. My personal tutor was Alison Britton who provided support throughout the course, and has written about my work since, in a review of my Audrey St show in Ceramic Review. There are many other friends who were particularly supportive at this time including Chris Erwin who enabled me to overcome my fear of writing, Fran Ross who is my technician and wise and affectionate sidekick, also Fran Landsman and Rachael Clyne, two of my oldest and dearest friends.

In a recent series of portraits of contemporary artists I began to consider different approaches that would communicate something of the work of the artist themselves in the portrait. One of the things that I noticed was predominant in their work is the risks they take in exposing themselves in some way, and tackle issues that are normally considered taboo, and I have adopted that philosophy. Either the work is controversial or exposes something about myself.

This research really opened my mind to the difference in perception of ceramic art and fine art. Without having to consider the making of an object, the meaning becomes everything. This is a great simplification of the whole art/ craft debate but has relevance and meaning for me. led me to make work outside the context of it being ceramic, and was very liberating.

Overcoming my initial dislike of anything traditional, I became drawn to the Staffordshire potters of the 19th Century whose mass produced portrait busts and flatbacks have a similar democratic quality to the work of the Pop artists of the Sixties. These works depict popular figures of the time and because they were mass-produced, and cheap, were available to everyone. They have a remarkable innocence and naivety which I love. Also, they are about people and as souvenirs they tell us much about the time and circumstances in which they were made.
Similarly my work can be seen in the same light. It is a physical manifestation of my life and times, and a ceramic documentation of my experience, souvenirs from the world of Windham.