Thursday, 14 October 2010
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
Some of Esther’s cake stands were featured on BBC Twos ‘Mary Queen Of Shops’, which is still on BBC iPlayer,. In this episode Mary tried reinventing a tired, bizarre homeware shop in Kingston, turning it into a popular vintage interiors store, where the cake stands took centre stage in the fab new look… watch it here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00syzr0/Mary_Queen_of_Shops_Series_3_Under_the_Moon/
There is also a feature on Etsy’s blog ‘The Stork’ all about Esther’s DIY/up-cycled wedding. (just one of the things we’ve been up to here!) With lots of cake, ice cream and up cycling tips for the wedding season, including photos of how the cake stands came into their own as wedding cake towers…
Have a peek here:
New work is now up on the etsy shop, check it out:
Soon there will be work for sale on with new stockist ‘the Itch Galleries’ website.
New work is also available at the National Gallery shop in the next week or two.
Monday, 29 March 2010
British Craft Trade Fair, 11th - 13th April. http://www.bctf.co.uk/
At Craft Central Open studios, 20th - 23rd May.http://www.craftcentral.org.uk/summer-2009
H@ndmade in Winchester, 4th July. http://handmadewinchester.blogspot.com/
Friday, 26 March 2010
Monday, 15 March 2010
Here is another beautiful illustrated fiction post by the wonderful Julia Green. It's a response to the image I recently sent her of a great cake stand I was really pleased with, it had been ordered by a shop and then I smashed it to smithereens while attempting to move from a shelf to my packing table i literally just dropped it form the highest shelf onto brick floor, it didn't have a chance in hell!
But here's a great piece if fiction to make up for its loss!Esther
I was on my fifth salad plate, a tumbler of gin in my other hand, an angry young woman yelling on the stereo, when I realized I no longer existed. Still I wound up and frisbeed the plate across the room, where it momentarily drowned out the music when it crashed against the wall, broke into pieces and crashed to the floor. Admittedly, the plates did not shatter into the million satisfying pieces that I had wanted, that the cartoons and movies had promised me. I didn’t know if this meant we had registered for very good china or very bad china, but I discovered later it was an easy cleanup job—all those big and chunky pieces went right into the dustpan and then doubled trash bags. Even this was a crucial part of my disappearance—I had become a woman who, upon discovering her husband was having an affair, an affair that had begun many many months ago, immediately began drinking and breaking dishes, only to clean them up herself afterward. I slipped into a cliché, a square peg in a square hole, and in becoming a stereotype of a woman scorned, I watched my actual identity—I was a great dancer, but a bad singer, I liked artichokes and beagles and biking, couldn’t stand coconut or musicals—the infinite idiosyncrasies that defined me had dissolved, and I was nobody. I flung another plate at the wall—we never used the china, only bought it because my mother insisted that people register for china—and marveled at how the only thing left that I could control was the trajectory of the plate, the angle and its velocity. The rest was up to man and God.