To continue exploring my love of ceramic shards for this a-n bursary project I proposed a day-long conversation and research session with Danny Callaghan and other members of Ceramic City Stories, a group of local ceramics enthusiasts that seek to uncover hidden histories behind the industry that made Stoke-on-Trent what it is. It was Danny who suggested that we open this conversation up to the public, inviting other people to join in and bring their own shard collections, questions and stories to the table. I agreed that this would be a great idea, and arranged the date for the 20th June, hosted at Clayhead Secret Museum, Ceramic City Stories’ base and part working tile factory in the heart of Stoke.
I had been collecting shards for a month previous and had written about the discovery of some of them, as I had proposed to do from the start. I expected the day to be quiet, a long and winding discussion with Danny about the joy of collecting, refining the taxonomy, reading the stories and researching the shards and their find locations. Perhaps with one or two people popping in to join throughout the day. How wrong I was!
Before we had officially opened, our first shard lover walked through the door. There began 5 solid hours of visits, collections and conversations- 11 of us in total, crammed onto a tiny deck between shipping containers that housed the museum’s exhibits.
Conversation first landed on the topic of ownership. As sharders, are we allowed to manipulate, adorn or embellish shards- i.e. turn it into jewellery etc.- and sell them if they are found on private or public land? Technically, we are on shaky ground. According to the law, just because someone throws something away does not mean they don’t own it. So if it can be proven that the shard had a rightful owner, it would be illegal to take it. However, we also discussed how a shard alone has no monetary value, it is the attention and craft applied to it by the sharder that gives it value. This quandary brought to light the issue of who our cultural heritage belongs to, and who has the right to disseminate its meaning and benefit from it. If these remnants of culture are owned physically by landowners and (possibly) conceptually by brands, what are we left with that we can call ours?
In the extreme, sharding on private wasteland or brownfield could be framed as an action against irresponsible and antisocial land ownership, drawing attention to the many long-term disused, unproductive fragments of land scattered across the city; as worthless as the shard itself- broken off from the functioning object of the city, ownership status only contested when others act to give profile, function and meaning to these spaces.
During the day many other conversations were had, about the origins of the shards, the potential age, what items they were once part of, where they were found and the reaction others had when they see you searching. Many stories were exchanged, as well as shards themselves, gifted from Margate beach to a sharder in Stoke.
The taxonomy was fully tested by the visitors on their own collections, which led to minor adjustments in the formula. I read one of my pieces of writing aloud to the assembled group, which people found both funny and moving.
At the end of the day, exhausted and hoarse from constant talking, I had barely touched my own shard collection. But I was content- bringing others together with this shared passion for shards, and having the opportunity to fully test the taxonomy was more than I ever expected, and I think it is something that could certainly be repeated in the future.
As my first visitor left after about 3 hours, we said our goodbyes at the door. “We should go out sharding together some time,” she said, “I’ll show you my sites if you show me yours.”
‘For the Love of Shards’ public conversation was recorded for the Cultural Quater of an Hour Podcast and should be available to listen to soon.
