Hags Pottery - What’s in a name?
People often ask me “Why Hags Pottery?”
They seem a little surprised that I would choose such a name - with all its negative connotations - for an essentially positive creative venture at this stage in my life. I also wondered whether people would be comfortable dropping their children at Hags Pottery for fun creative workshops. But the more I explored the idea, the more it resonated with me.
I liked the image of a woman, who has devoted her life to children, family, creativity and learning, finally finding the time and strength to invest in a venture that allows her space to experiment and play - to truly become herself. She is confident in her ideas about learning, wants to work undistracted and has a strong desire to collaborate with and inspire others who share her vision.
Mad? Eccentric? Wise? Non-conformist? Carefree? I decided to own the term “Hag”, to turn it on its head, embrace it, and make it something positive..
Goya’s Witches and Old Women
A while before Hags Pottery was even in my mind, I worked with some young people exploring Goya’s Witches and Old Women Album in an exhibition at the Courtauld Gallery, where I work as an Educator. These small sketches, created between 1819 and 1823, explored visions, nightmares, superstitions, and the challenges of old age. I was fascinated by them. Goya’s witches laugh, grimace and often appear cruel – perhaps reflecting the reality that many women accused of witchcraft were simply harmless old woman. The very notion of the witch was often an exaggerated and cruel embodiment of what elderly women were perceived to be.
I found these intriguing images strangely humorous and empowering. Although they carried chilling undertones about attitudes toward older women – attitudes that still persist today - I saw in them a strength, freedom, and resilience that I deeply empathised with. They led me down a rabbit hole, exploring stereotypes of older woman: ageing, wisdom, beauty, witchcraft, alchemy, creativity, experimenting, madness, anger, irrationality, eccentricity and menopause. I found many others doing the same.
Challenging Stereotypes
Whilst developing the ceramics studio at the end of my garden - a place where people could meet, create, talk, laugh, experiment, and escape - I read, More Than a Woman by Caitlin Moran (2020). She also embraces the terms “Hag” and “Crone” in a positive light, encouraging women to be proud of their “Hag years” and to celebrate the support and friendship that groups of women bring at this transformative stage of life. Negative stereotypes surrounding women’s friendships, eccentricity, irrationality and even madness are so deeply rooted in history and still creep into discussions about older women today. I hope that Hags Pottery will be seen in this new positive and empowering context - where women own the wisdom and freedom that later life brings and give themselves permission to indulge their passions, using their deep wisdom and particular knowledge of the world to make a difference. This beautiful wisdom is too often considered unimportant, rendered invisible - forgotten and hidden in kitchens, gardens, sheds and studios at the bottom of gardens where play, learning, talk, experimental science and philosophy take place.
So, when my husband jokingly asks as I head out for an evening with my friends, “Are you out with the witches tonight!”
I raise my eyebrows, roll my eyes and proudly reply, ‘Yes I am!’
The Birth of Hags Pottery
As I joined the growing tide of women talking about the menopause, I was unsurprised to read about the links between witchcraft and the menopause in Mariella Frostrup’s book Cracking the Menopause. The chapter Myth and Menopause unpacks countless historical references to witchcraft, madness and menopause, revealing how relatively recently these ideas persisted.
Meanwhile, my work at the Courtauld and my interest in ceramics led me to Italian maiolica albarello - pharmacy jars. I became fascinated by how in 16th and 17th Century Florence, images of idealised, beautiful women were painted onto jars to “advertise” the remedies within. These images subtly promoted health and longevity, forming an early version of the marketing strategies that continue to drive today a multi-million-pound beauty industry aimed at older women striving to remain youthful.
Reading Hamnet by Maggie O Farrell (2020), I was captivated by the portryal of young Agnes (Anne Hathaway – Shakespeare’s future wife). She is the daughter of a woman who gossips claim “might have been a wood-dweller who got lost, who became separated from those of her kind, or she might have been something other… who can cause boils and illnesses can sour the milk just by touching it with her fingers… predict the future… and the spirits of Puck and Titania and the witches of Macbeth cluster about her.”
This image of a girl shunned by society, gossiped about, simply because she was in tune with nature, was green fingered and made herbal remedies - who had strength in her conviction to live her life as she wished, at a time when society ostracised her – struck a powerful chord with me. It chimed with my own family history: from my struggles to work within the rigid structures of school and museum institutions, to my current experimentations in ceramics at Hags Pottery at the bottom of my garden, and my observations of my own 80-year-old mother, still tirelessly beavering away on her allotment.
Inspiration from Contemporary Artists
I hope you can imagine my excitement - as I develop my own ceramics practice and strive to create work that reflects my concerns - that I find my interests echoed in the work of other contemporary ceramists. Katrin Moye, for instance, also draws inspiration from the maiolica pharmacy jars in the Courtauld collection, reinterpreting them in stunning pieces such as Ego Iratus Sum Super Nihil (I become enraged over nothing). Her jar explores “occasions when I’ve been consumed by an ungovernable explosive rage,” reclaiming the dragon/angry woman association for her own empowering reasons.
Serena Korda similarly focuses on underrepresented subjects, particularly older women, who have long been derided and hidden in history. “Often associated with the Witch, Hag, or Crone, Serena references this history attempting to reclaim the wild women in ancient stories, who have been lost through patriarchal retelling and distortion. [Her] artwork delves into womanhood with a particular focus on the transformative phase of menopause… [and] she aims to challenge negative stereotypes while questioning the lack of understanding and body shaming which is prevalent in medical institutions.” (Press release: East Quay Watchet)
Lindsay Mendick also undermines traditional notions of beauty, ageing and the older woman. She explores the perils of ageing, noting on her Instagram feed that the “witch or hag has long existed as a monstrous incarnation of the aging female body – an outsider in a patriarchal society”. I was delighted to see some of Goya’s old women appearing on the front of some of her recent ceramic work.
There is also currently a whole exhibition dedicated to the Hag which “seeks to reclaim and redefine the term ‘Hag’ for the current age by celebrating the strength, wisdom, activism, rebelliousness and creativity of craftswomen. The exhibition in Fife has ambitious aims to challenge societal prejudices and foster a deeper understanding of the rich tapestry of experiences that women, who engage intensively with their craft, bring to contemporary culture.
Crafting Identity Through Clay
All these diverse references spur me on, challenging me to consider my own relationship to these ideas as I develop my practice.
I feel fortunate to live in a time when these conversations are thriving. I often reflect on what life must have been like for women in Goya’s time - perhaps I too would have been one of those women, shunned and left at the bottom of my garden, quietly going mad, mixing up remedies, and making pots.
Finally, I am reminded of a workshop in a school, where I was mixing homemade dyes for a painting project with children. As I set up my little pots of colours, vegetable dyes and objects, a young boy came up to me and practically whispered in my ear, “Are you a sorcerer?”
I smiled – delighted - almost winked at him and said “Yes… I am!”