I love the language and imagery of superstitious folklore, and the delicious slivers of fear invoked by a scratchy mark, a twisted root, a skulking crow.

I badge this vocabulary facetiously as “witchy” and enjoy it, but of course, the reality of historical witch-hunts, and the persistent embodiment of misogynistic fears in the idea of The Witch – are far more chilling to pull apart.

The pots in the ground are my idea of Lachrimosa – vessels to collect tears in order to measure out a period of mourning.  There is no explicit narrative I would expect anyone to decipher in the work; I tried to create something that uses the language of the organic and references a discomfort with the female body.  The pots are on spikes or stakes that pierce the ground (but equally they might be read as stems), they collect rainwater.

I am displaying them in the local Arts Trail in the grounds of the Friends Meeting House this month, then I’m taking them to Force8 in Dorset in August.