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interest and just enjoy what I enjoy. Cooking, serving food on lavish platters, filling large<br />
overbearing vases with even larger overbearing flowers - creating a welcoming,<br />
beckoning spectacle in this place I call home: this half-reality and half-fantasy of<br />
cohesiveness, of familial bliss and quiet security. Domestic objects are intuitively and<br />
historically part of my psyche, and for me to make clay work that embodies the ritual of<br />
domestic use, is a natural and honest pursuit.<br />
The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir:<br />
A reception involves something more than merely welcoming<br />
others into a woman's own home; it changes this dwelling into a<br />
domain of enchantment; the social function is at once a party and<br />
a ceremony. The hostess displays her treasures: silver, linen,<br />
glassware; she arranges cut flowers. Ephemeral and useless,<br />
flowers typify the needless extravagance of parties marked by<br />
expense and luxury; open in their vases, doomed to early death,<br />
they take the place of bonfires, incense and myrrh, libations and<br />
offerings. The table is laden with fine food and precious wines.<br />
The idea is to devise gracious gifts, which, while supplying the<br />
needs of the guests, anticipate their desires; the repast is changed<br />
into a mysterious ceremony. Virginia Woolf emphasizes this aspect<br />
in a passage from "Mrs. Dalloway": And so there began a<br />
soundless and exquisite passing to and fro through swing doors of<br />
aproned white-capped maids, handmaidens not of necessity, but<br />
adept in a mystery or grand deception practised by hostesses in<br />
Mayfair from one-thirty to two, when with a wave of the hand, the<br />
traffic ceases, and there rises instead this profound illusion in the<br />
first place about the food - how it is not paid for; and then that the<br />
table spreads itself voluntarily with glass and silver, little mats,<br />
saucers of red fruit; films of brown cream mask turbot; in<br />
casseroles severed chickens swim; coloured, undomestic, the fire<br />
burns; and with the wine and the coffee (not paid for) rise jocund<br />
visions before musing eyes; gently speculative eyes; eyes to whom<br />
life appears, musical, mysterious.<br />
The woman who presides over these mysteries is proud to feel<br />
herself the creator of a perfect moment, the bestower of happiness<br />
and gaiety. It is through her that the guests have been brought<br />
together, an event has taken place; she is the gratuitous source of<br />
joy and harmony.<br />
During the normal daytime meals of my childhood, our family would eat from Melmac<br />
dishware; a plastic set of plates, bowls and cups that would sometimes come inside<br />
laundry soap boxes as incentive gifts. These dishes could take the heavy use of children<br />
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