Have you ever found broken pottery and wondered how it got there? Artist Mark Lawson Bell’s playful imagination will lead you to realise just how broken pottery finds its way to potholes, trenches, unmade pathways and planted borders of urban parks.

Tales From Broken Plates charts the final moments of 52 plates before each met its end.

With one eye always to the ground, Lawson Bell collects broken sherds* of crockery that others have walked over, unseen or ignored, for decades or centuries more. Revelling in the fact that he’s the next to hold it after so long, he deduces the impossible: that being, WHO dropped the plate, WHEN it succumbed to gravity, and the LAST meal it carried.

In this new book, he bequeaths 52 fragments with the names of an owner, date and dish, and tells the tale of its last meal. He confesses to hearing the expletives uttered as the plate succumbed, but that may be one imagining too many.

What is Tales from Broken Plates?

It’s a book, the result of a 15 year ‘obsession with the unknown’, based on a collection of broken pottery I have, found in gardens, parks, and holes in roads.

My fascination is who dropped each plate?  (because there is a name) When? (as there is a date), and the last meal it carried (rabbit pie?)

For a long time, I was happy ascribing the person, date and dish to a piece and box framing them as gifts or for exhibition, but four years ago I started writing short stories, tales charting the plates final moments before they broke.

What do we find in the book?

A set of short stories leading to each plates demise. Some of the tales are arguably

far-fetched or surreal, but that was part of the joy and pain in thinking of 52 reasons how plates might break. All the stories are fictional, but the details are correct. One of the characters was poisoned with strychnine. The police would have a field day if they saw my search history – ‘What’s the difference in effects between Cyanide, Arsenic and Strychnine?’ It’s 160 pages set into a hard back with a linen effect cover. A gorgeous raspberry pink bookmark is there to chart one’s progress. The locations are noted too. All found in England and Wales, from Cornwall to Chelsea.

Where did the idea of this book come from?

A first date, in the grounds of a country estate four years ago. As we walked, I told of my fascination. She left and I wandered round to the side of the house and sure enough, in the woods lay a few pieces of pottery. I sent her a picture of one, with its image of a flower. She responded as you might expect, but then asked the question that changed everything: “I wonder what the story was”. That led me to write the first tale. I researched the house and fell off my chair when I read that the renowned cookery writer Elizabeth David grew up there. It blew my mind to think she may have dropped the plate.

How did broken pottery inspire you and what does each fragment mean to you?

Each fragment is an opportunity, a blank page and fresh pencil. It’s about observing, wondering, and then imagining. I do this with my art:

I conjure stories from found objects, items, either detritus, or botanical. I don’t find them as such, I see them as being found, as if they were lost, waiting patiently for me to upon them. ‍I tell a tale to accompany the piece. Essentially, I re-imagine their reality.

For example, and you can see them on my website:

‘Meeting one’ as its called is a Victorian child’s shoe I found at low tide, encased in mud. It had become an anchor for seaweed – but for me, and as the story I wrote goes, it belonged to a boy who’d heard of mermaids and entered the sea to be with them.

Or ‘Mother and her daughters’

A monumental Gunnera Manicata leaf in a 2m tall box frame – its veins symbolizing the rivers of the world. 

Are any of the stories inspired by your life?

My first meeting with him and I was telling my publisher my inspiration for a couple of the stories. His reply? “Your back stories are as interesting as the stories themselves”. So, I wrote a second chapter which tells of these. The initial idea came often from the pattern or motif, sparking a thought, and then the tale would be embellished by memories, childhood, or of my time living in London’s East End.

How does your imagination shape your work?

My imagination is my work. I see ‘things in things’ and I invite others to see them as well. Children have a period in their lives I call the ‘age of wonder’. It typically wanes when they’re about 10 when reasoning and knowledge kicks in. I don’t think I ever lost that age of make-believe.

You are an artist, a creative director, a writer, a sculptor. Which of these titles describes you better?

An artist. I’ve had many journeys in my life; child naturalist, then photographer, which led to sculpture and furniture maker from found objects. These three loves, this culmination led me to be a creative director for 25 years. My agency Plinth Creative, working for brands like ABSOLUT and Veuve Cliquot and I was artistic director of ‘sketch’ in London for years. Many clients were saying to me “Mark you’re an artist, do your art”. I always shrugged it off, I loved solving problems with creativity, translating what the client wants into something tangible and memorable. For me an idea, especially for an event, wasn’t interesting unless it had the potential to go horribly wrong.

I relented, and three years ago I decided to concentrate on my own work. It’s terrifying and exciting in equal measure.

How is life in Hastings?

I was brought up in Cornwall and then I was in London’s Hackney for 27 years. Hasting’s a little bit of both, wilds and woods either side of a town layered with history and havoc. I love being by the sea. If she lets me in every morning I run to it, whip my T shirt off, go in, and then run home. It’s a perfect start to any day and saves a fortune in coffee. It makes me feel connected, the English Channel is maligned, but it’s the same body of water that circles the earth.

Why do you have a leaf in your breast pocket?

I like to carry a little bit of nature around with me!

I choose leaves like some men choose ties. In the summer they’re emerald green and freshly picked, in autumn and winter, brown and pressed. London Plane tree leaves are my favourite, the maple like shape means you can fold them like a handkerchief.

What are your future plans?

To be able to carry on telling stories with my work. I’m looking for opportunities to show, to sell, to create site specific works in interiors, commercial or otherwise and I’d love to have a solo exhibition.

What message would you like to leave our readers with?

To not forget one’s inner child, if you don’t know it already, it’s in you. Let it out occasionally, it likes to hang out on a shoulder. It has a good sense of direction.

Marks work can be seen here:

Art: marklawsonbell.co.uk

The book: https://www.talesfrombrokenplates.com

Creative Direction: plinthcreative.london