Marking the halfway point of our Material Matter[s] Learning Journey we embarked on a weekend of site visits, hands-on workshops and hours of discussions tied to the theme of clay.

Moments after arriving at Ketley Brick Factory in Staffordshire, one of Britain's last remaining independent brickmakers, we were proudly informed that these bricks were like no other - these are  “the toughest bricks in the world”. This fact was one of many we learnt that day about the Staffordshire Blue’s produced at this fascinating factory, which felt at times like a living history museum, steeped in  low-tech machinery and adorned with  hard working laborers crafting many hundreds  of bricks and tiles each day.

We spent the first half of our day at Ketley with founder of The Roundhouse Company and natural building expert Annabel Cameron-Duff getting hands on with the raw clay dug just a few miles up the road. We each discussed what it is we love most about clay; many referred to the feel and simplicity of the material as well as the connection to our own histories and past. An innate feeling for some who had never had any experience touching or working hands on with the material.

 The workshop with Annabel was fast paced and more of a quick taster into the process of clay plastering but we managed to mix together two plaster mixes with two different fibres: straw and hemp shiv. Some participants tried out the traditional way of mixing, rhythmically stomping and stepping in the mix with bare feet, whilst others opted for the more efficient approach using an electric drill with a large metal paddle attachment.

Time was of the essence but we managed to try out working with the two mixtures, lathering them onto a wood wool panel with various different trowels and experimenting with a little bit of sculptural relief work.

The afternoon took us on a tour of the brick factory starting out in the hand-building shed. Ketley doesn’t make standard bricks by hand but they do make some ornamental bricks and tiles which they refer to as 'specials'. 

This type of sculptural clay work and hand-building is really fascinating for me. It brings up previous thoughts I’ve had about work of unknown craftspeople embedded within industrial settings and the skills, time and repetitions taken to hone these crafts by invisible workers hidden behind factory walls. 

This reminds me of the installation ‘Factory’ by Neil Brownsword who reflects on the work of Stoke potters with his thought-provoking performative piece. An artwork that continues to be unearthed in my research practice as a poignant and thought-provoking statement on labour roles and social status around handcraft within industry.  

Each and every clay piece that makes up just a tiny part of a large ornate building could be positioned on a plinth and shown in a Mayfair gallery by a prestigious ceramic artist and sold for hundreds of pounds. This idea makes me question the setting in which we view an object, who made it and how it is presented to us. But also our own perception of material value and why we consider  certain items to be worth much more than others.

Walking around the factory we ducked between endless conveyor belts that seemed to cross over excessively in a Kerplunk like fashion. We gawped at the machinery, which despite being more than 50 years old still initiated  feelings of awe and wonderment at their Wallace and Gromet like complexity.

Perhaps  so captivating because the contraptions are just complex enough for us to grasp how it could work, with visible cogs, belts, pistons and slicers on show, yet complex enough for us to be amazed that humans have developed such elaborately entangled machines to make a simple rectangular brick.

I had heard about the ‘Staffordshire Blues’ from my previous research into brick colourations [Building the Local] but hadn’t had the opportunity to see them in real life until now, or had the chance to appreciate the incredible iridescence that comes from the locally dug clay combined with the controlled firing process. 

Neither the  clay or the firing alone would create the same exact tone, but a mix of the two amalgamate to create a unique colour - linking place, people and process. 

Well that’s how it once was. 

One of  the Material Cultures team later told us about a much larger, mass-production site nearby owned by brick-giants Ibstock. They told us how the same colour was achieved at their factory by spray painting the shiny blue effect onto a fired brick, removing the need for locally dug clay or accuracy in the firing. 

This seemingly trivial fact created many complex thoughts and feelings for me. 

Some of which I’ve touched on before in my previous work in relation to place, belonging, heritage and provenance. 

For now I will conclude with a question that I intent to delve deeper into during the rest of this Material Matter[s] Learning Journey -

How does this small act of material mimicry reflect on a much greater perception of materiality, value and authenticity in today’s world?