Responsible Making
Finds excavated at Babylon between 1902 and 1914 in Berlin (British Museum) I have talked before, in this space and more widely, about how I am a maker who does not make things. For a number of years, it has been a sort of existential issue for me, especially since I spend my time surrounded […]
A poetic response to objects
Almost all of my adult life has been engaged with thinking about objects: as an archaeologist, museum education officer, maker and now creative consultant working with craft practitioners. Wondering who made them and why, how they were used, what they say about people or the society they lived in. Contemplating how the materials used tell us about where people lived, the environments they found themselves in, how certain materials hold added value or show status. Objects are fascinating receptacles of thoughts and ideas, hopes and aspirations, they can show our true selves to the world. More recently, as my focus shifted from historical objects to contemporary ones, I revelled in the fact that you can ask the maker all the questions you like. Things which we may have to guess at for old objects we can learn easily now. The object is knowable in so many new ways and that is hugely exciting. I love to hear about how objects are made, where the inspiration comes from, how they came into being. These two approaches, historical and contemporary, are two sides of the same coin.
Books to inspire: London in Fragments
A long time ago I trained as an archaeologist. It’s where my love of objects, of the narratives we weave about our lives, and of searching out unseen things comes from. If you’ve ever nosied around on London’s Thames foreshore, you’ll have had a glimpse of these things for yourself. I’ve written about it before (and no doubt will again) as it’s an amazing experience and connection to the past, a connection to things people have made.