Woodman has tirelessly exercised her understanding of the history and intrinsic qualities of her material of choice. In her ostensible embrace of the frippery of decorative ceramics lies an uplifting ‘sprezzatura’ towards any craft-phobic tendencies which made the artistic acknowledgement of her oeuvre so hard-won. She is the antipode to the male potter wrestling with the material in order to elevate its sculptural worthiness. The performative quirkiness of her sculptures deftly satirises the objectifying trope of the woman as vessel, while the intentional crudity of perspective escapes the claustrophobic notion of space as finite and measurable