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MUD-fired clay, raw clay and cloth

MUD. I am starting an exciting new body of work. I am not sure where I am going with this and where the road will take me. As always, I just make in a frenzy and totally immerse myself in the process, only realising why, afterwards. But I think it is because I have been thinking of the farm allot. About the time when life was simple and carefree. The time before. Before all this change. When we used to play in the river with mud between our toes. A time when we used to explore nature and find old mud crusted medicine bottles and you could not wait to wash it, to see what colour the bottle was. A time when you went fishing and you had to walk miles to get to the perfect spot, you know, waar die visse byt. When you tried to teach yourself how to cook by making mud cakes and slapping the soft mud in your hands. And walking over the cracked earth, liking the sound it made under your feet, and hurting just enough for it to be ok to walk over. A carefree time. Happy. Living in the moment, because your mind is free from all the bullshit of being old and tired and somme net misluk, because life is hard sometimes. And people are shit and everything just feels harder. And you take so much longer to get over it. Its nice to play a bit again. Its nice to be reminded that this to shall pass and everything eventually returns to MUD.

Stiched - porcelain

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