Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Back when I was in my twenties, my then boyfriend installed a kiln in his room in the squat where we lived. He bought plain white tiles and painted designs like Atora Suet packs and Tampax boxes on them, building up a roaring trade in some of the more chichi shops in Brighton. I made a little porcelain baby whose hand fell off, and also some rattles and things which I think he still has. It used to get very warm in the room when he was firing the kiln, which operated on stolen electricity piped up from the basement where a squatter electrician had a flat. O, the stories I could tell!