Modern Slavery : Once you know, you can’t un-know

Over the last 6 months I have been working away on a commission for Undisclosed, a group show curated by Nicola Hockley and Caroline Evans, seeking to expose Modern Slavery as a 21st Century crime. The show runs from 2 March – 18th April at The Hostry exhibition space in Norwich Cathedral, with the Private View on 10th March 6-8pm. Everyone is invited! The plinths are being made, the catalogue is being printed – but before I share photos of the completed work, I thought I would post about the research and making process I have been through.

The Problem of Modern Slavery

I confess I did not know much about the subject before being invited to exhibit. It turns out despite slavery having been abolished in 1833 – it is still alive and kicking here in the UK, and frighteningly prevalent in the production of cheap food and agricultural products. Although it takes many forms from children in county lines drug running, to trafficked sex workers, to valet car washes, the bit that most shocked me was the prevalence of debt bondage in the supply chain of the food we buy weekly from our favourite supermarkets. The pressure to supply cheap cheap goods, means companies look the other way when agencies send them inexpensive and submissive workers, often non-english speaking, who turn up corralled into vans, often down at heal. These are some of the tell tell signs that employers need to look out for if they don’t want their products tainted by the scourge of slave labour. Victims of modern slavery are invariably in fear of their lives from those who lured them to this country with the promise of good work, and then demand that they pay back the cost of flights, accommodation, use of tools – with vastly inflated rates, and despicably low rates of pay. Victims of debt bondage slip ever deeper into debt, while attempts to flee or argue back are met with violence – or threats of violence to family back home. It is a sorry tale. And a blight on the way we consume. But once you know you can’t un-know.

Slavery blooming in UK agriculture

We have been conned by consumerism and seduced by the lured of the bargain. Indeed being a bargain hunter is pretty much considered a virtue. I fell for it. For more than 10 years I have been buying a couple of bunches of cheap daffodils in my weekly Sainsbury’s shop each spring. A two quid treat for me and my family to brighten the kitchen table. Where’s the harm in that? Well it turns out Cornish Daffs are/have been produced with slave labour. It’s no wonder when you consider they are picked by hand, and yet 10 blooms cost just £1. That one pound has to cover the bulbs, planting, tending, hand picking, processing, packaging, delivery to the distribution centre and then on to the supermarkets AND making a profit for shareholders. For me it became clear – if the goods are seductively cheap, and it involves manual labour, someone is getting screwed over.

This terracotta Janus Head, ‘Every Little Helps‘ references Tesco’s strap line. Every little bit of exploitation and cutting of corners, as well as mechanisation helps to keep the price down – but at what cost? This piece is my attempt to take responsibility for my role in the cheap daffodil trade. On one side I have sculpted a self portrait of me as the Bargain Hunter – with a crazed expression of someone who has just spotted an irresistible deal. On the other, is a portrait of an actual survivor of Modern Slavery who kindly agreed to sit for me. I travelled to the Welsh borders to meet up with her, hear about her experiences and take photographic visual references to be able to sculpt the portrait. I wanted to capture a sense of the desolation and dehumanising numbness that she described to me when she was trapped in forced labour. Although my muse was not herself involved in the daffodil production, it was confirming to hear she was glad I was wanting to highlight this story. The contrast between the charm and beauty of daffodils, and the processes at play to get them to market will hopefully shock viewers. The piece will be displayed in Norwich with fresh daffodils coming out of the aperture in the top of the head.

A Feast of Modern Slavery – it is everywhere

My research also revealed that that modern slavery is now so endemic in UK food production, from planting and harvesting, to packing and processing, that an expert who works in the industry told me if I wanted to sculpt the food that is produced using modern slavery, I could choose anything I liked to represent – it is everywhere! So I made a slavery salad – an homage to 16th Century master-ceramicist Bernard Palissy, press moulding shrimp and cockle shells (remember the trafficked Morecambe Bay Cockle pickers who drowned), shrimp, lettuce, asparagus, and eggs to create an abundant platter of glossy but tainted food.

You Can’t Walk Away

The third sculpture that I have made for the Undisclosed is called – ‘You Can’t Walk Away‘ – a quote from Blood and Earth by Kevin Bales. This statement is the simplest definition of modern slavery. If you can’t walk away from your job for fear of violence, arrest, and crippling debt then you are experiencing slave labour. This terracotta shackled foot, that is straining to get away and yet fixed in place also references the terrible shackles of the transatlantic slave trade. I chose to sculpt in terracotta clay as its high iron content – just like blood, gives the clay its distinctive red colour.

Ancient Clay Infographics

Finally, I made a fourth piece called 77 Percent that responds to a 2020 survey by The Ethical Trading Initiative with the Hult Business school which revealed that 77% of UK corporations believe that they have modern slavery somewhere in their supply chains. I was shocked – that’s over three quarters of everything we buy has been produced using unacceptable labour practices at some point in their supply chain. It takes the shine off consumerism no?

77 Percent is inspired by cuneiform clay tablets, humanity’s oldest known form of writing. Babylonian and Sumerians often used clay tablets for accounting purposes – to record bushels of wheat harvested, or numbers of slaves owned. It felt appropriate that this story of slavery – sadly a tale as old as time – should be told using a clay tablet.

To communicate the statistic I divided a leather hard clay slab into a 10×10 grid, and then inscribed the cuneiform word for female slave into 77 of the 100 squares.

Why female slave? I was fascinated to learn that cuneiform means wedge script – due to the wedge shaped stylus used to score the clay. But this wedge shape also shares an etymological root with the Latin Cuneus – for triangular wedge and the arguably vulva – that is the root for the modern words: c*nt and c*nilingus

I used a chop stick to inscribe the clay

Moving Darwin

My first solo show – Moving Darwin, is finally opening to the public Monday 26th July – 12th Sept at the Home of Charles Darwin.

It has been quite an journey. From the germ of an idea as a 3rd year student at Central Saint Martins making work for a hypothetical exhibition at Down House, the intensity of making a stop-frame clay animation and series of ceramic works in my final term, the delight when the museum’s curators embraced the idea and invited me to exhibit in 2020, its subsequent cancelation due to COVID, to English Heritage re-kindling the project this spring which presented a new opportunity. It is now installed and ready for the doors to open on Monday.

Excitingly, the work is bang up to date. I have sculpted new pieces to respond to the current pandemic which highlights just how relevant Charles Darwin’s theories about the expression of emotions still are today. Hands up if you are struggling to understand the emotions or ‘read the room’ when staring at zoom in gallery view? Or looking at a face half-obscured by a PPE mask and wondering if that person is sad or angry? Contemporary life is challenging what Darwin knew to be true – that the facial expression of emotions are normally universally understood as they are a core constituent of how we have evolved as a species. They are a pre-linguistic language, one of the reasons we are such a successful species on this planet because we can communicate quickly, silently, and with great sophistication. What happens if we can’t understand each other’s emotions in these current circumstances?

Emotional Field – Wedgwood-inspired emotional portraits

When I first got the invitation to exhibit at Down House, I decided I wanted to develop the work further and make a new version of Emotional Field focusing on a woman. On reflection my degree show installation was completely male dominated. The current Emma Darwin, great great granddaughter to Charles and Emma, and an expert on her family’s history, seemed the obvious choice to ask to sit for me for this update. Emma came to my house in autumn 2019, and I photographed her, taking ‘mug shots’ of her front, left and right views expressing and holding the six emotions that her forebear defined as universally understood whether you life in Pinner or Papua New Guinea: Happiness sadness, fear, surprise, anger and disgust. Since then I have sculpted numerous versions, but it was not until this spring and the prospect of the show was revived that I decided to sculpt these six emotions again, this time in Wedgwood inspired colours, with the added frisson of one Wedgwood Blue head wearing a porcelain white face mask. The Jasperware colours also allowed me to make a strong visual link between the Darwin and Wedgwood family dynasties.

Abstract Fear – an interpretation of what visceral fear feels like in the body.

Another piece I have remade for ‘Moving Darwin’ is Abstract Fear – I wanted to include a gestural piece that showed what the emotions feel like in our bodies. But the only placement possible, on a marble mantle piece against a cream wall, led me to rework the original piece in delicious black clay to add to its visceral sense of menace.

WhyTheFace? Viewing Cabin

Needless to say, my stop-frame clay animation is also on display at Down House. I worked with the wonderful set designer Colin Peters to make this demountable viewing cabin, to create an immersive experience while watching the film, complete with surround sound, and a periscopic side view of the original raw clay head of William Pryor that was used during the making of WhyTheFace?

I will be on site at Down House on the opening day Monday 26th July – running a series of drop in clay emoji workshops. Come along if you can. If not, Down House makes a wonderful summer’s day out of London. You can get there using just an Oyster card, if you don’t have car – via trains to Orpington or Bromley South, and then a bus to Downe Village. Apart from seeing my work, it is fascinating to visit Darwin’s study where he penned The Origin of Species and The Expression of Emotions in Man and Animals, but also roam in his walled garden and green house where he studied plants, insect and animal varieties up close during his scientific research.

And finally if you would like to hear a really generous interview with me by BBC Radio Kent’s wonderful Dominic King the take a listen by clicking on the image below and scrolling to 1hr 12mins in, where I gabble on excitedly for 10 minutes.

Click on image to listen to interview – scrolling to 1hr 12mins in for start of the conversation

Funerary Urn For a Top Cat

Our beautiful cat, Emily, companion of 14 years, sadly passed away this week. The days blurred into one, as her condition gradually worsened, loosing her sense of balance and appetite. Yesterday, we had to allow her to drift into the Big Sleep. We will miss her terribly.

Thank goodness I was consoled by my wonderful friend, artist and ceramics mentor Stephanie Buttle over a drink a few nights before. A true creative, she reminded me to put the sadness into the clay. Steph suggested I make a funerary urn to place Emily’s ashes in. What could be more fitting? And another great excuse to work with unfired clay, that would allow Emily and the urn to melt back into feline Mother Earth.

Yesterday afternoon I did just that, and spent a perfect couple of hours with my daughter, who came home for the weekend to nest, condole and recooperate from the excesses of Uni. The stars seemed to be aligned as I went down into my basement to retrieve a bag of terracotta, only to uncover some forgotten clay with the perfect provenance – dug up from a depth of 25m from a construction site opposite our house a few years ago. This ‘home grown’ clay was a deep deep grey, very sticky, tricky to work with and cold to the touch. From that depth, drilled up by piling machines, it would not have seen the light of day for about 20,000 years. Primeval stuff.

The whole process felt very ancient too, linking back to the some of the earliest ceramics of human civilisation, where the passing of loved ones involved making effigies, and funerary urns to carry them back to Mother Earth or into the afterlife.

I’m not used to making ‘functional’ ware. We rolled the clay to make the base and sides of the urn, trying to ‘do a good job’ using wooden battens so that the clay was even, using a prosaic Vanish plastic tub as the form to wrap the slabs of clay around. Miscalculating the dimensions of the sides, a disconcerting, gapping hole stood there slightly accusingly. Instead of starting again to make the ‘perfect’ pot, I filled the gap with an extra slab of clay, pushing the two sides together roughly with my thumbs. The junction resembled the backbones of a spine. Uncanny.

The urn would need a lid. Why not decorate it with an Emily? We sat sculpting, trying to capture the form of Emily’s body. Together Elsa and I reminisced about Emily and then our making went very quiet. I based my little figure on a photo of the last time that she had sat drinking from her water bowl. It felt like we were making manifest our feline friend, and really conjuring her into, perhaps not life, but into existence. It was one of those beautiful moments, when a sense of peacefulness and purposefulness came together. Prrrr.

It’s a wrap and many thanks!

Here are a few highlights from the Degree Show, the last day of term and my subsequent graduation. I was so pleased to be awarded my degree with First Class Honours. It made the graduation celebration all the more sweet this week with my lovely Mud friends and family. Thanks to all those who have helped me on this journey. It has been very special.