Colin Devine

No matter what our circumstances or beliefs, collectively we are being threatened by a new European war. The horrors of Gaza perpetuated by the self appointed guardians of Western Civilisation are not separate but rather an antechamber to more militaristic treats in the offing.

In the light of such gloomy reflections, it often occurs to me to question the validity of putting paint brush to canvas or pencil to paper in the pursuit of artistic excellence. What relevance can such micro personal activities have when we are continually threatened by the ancient sword of Damocles wielded by our social superiors? Why not give into despair? Why not just get drunk? Perhaps art is nothing more than a form of luxury or self-indulgence.

However, even despair is perhaps a luxury not available to those in the midst of tragedy and the imperatives of that slattern, necessity!?

The answer to these doubts must surely be this: in the midst of destruction and threatened destruction, an apparently gratuitous self-originating act - because nobody actually 'needs' a 'work of art' - is automatically a statement of faith, because the outcome of success or failure is not known in advance and therefore a statement of hope and affirmation of the future in an uncertain and fragile world. And we all need hope! In any work of art worthy of the name, there is always a felt but undefined something. An artwork is more than the sum of its parts. And it is within the area of the 'more than' an indistinct 'something' that hope and the poetry of hope reside. It goes without saying that the soul needs poetry. I sincerely hope that my artwork and indeed my ceramics give profound aesthetic pleasure and intimations of the 'undefined something.'