A closer look at The Dead Dad Book by Vicky Lindo

Devon-based ceramic artist Vicky Lindo was awarded the top prize at the 2019 British Ceramics Biennial (BCB) for her moving ceramics series, the Dead Dad Book. Vicky received a £6,686 National Lottery Project Grant for her winning exhibition which explores themes of migration, racism and identity.

Vicky applied to National Lottery Project Grants after being invited to exhibit at AWARD, the headline exhibition at BCB. As a mid-career artist, the funding enabled her to work on her creative and artistic development without the pressure of making commercial sales. 

The Dead Dad Book is based on research into the life of Vicky’s late father, Michael Anthony (Mick) Lindo, who travelled alone to England from Jamaica as part of the Windrush Generation, when he was just 11 years-old. One day, whilst dealing with trauma and alcohol addiction, Mick disappeared - leaving his wife and four children. After not hearing from him in years, Vicky was told that her father had passed away. Seven years after his death, the family learnt that he had died alone in a wood in County Wexford, Ireland.

The Dead Dad Book refers to a research diary Vicky and her family kept whilst trying to find out what happened to her father on a journey to Ireland. Vicky hoped the art project would help her answer some crucial questions around the death of her father and to learn how Windrush and immigration affects people today. The project is particularly relevant to audiences that have experienced family fragmentation, addiction or alcoholism.

Vicky and her creative collaborator Bill Brookes were selected as the AWARD winners from a shortlist of ten artists by a judging panel chaired by Alun Graves, Senior Curator in the Sculpture, Metalwork, Ceramics and Glass Department at the V&A. 

Dead Dad Book is opening at the Burton in Bideford, one of our National Portfolio Organisations in Devon, in December 2019.

Vicky Lindo talks us through her work:

The Green Man

‘My dad’s body was discovered in Balladinas Barntown woods two months after he died. Next to his curled up body was a pair of boots and a carton of milk displaying a date from two months earlier. I think of him as a green man, going back to the earth. This wood is where he wanted to be and it seems fitting that this is where he lay down to die. His eye is open because I don’t want to think that this was the end of his life. He was 46 years old when he died.’

Swimming in Coolree Reservoir

‘This is based on the time that my Dad had left us and not told us where he had gone. We found out all of this information after he had died. He was living a hermit’s life in the woods near Wexford Town. He had made a camp and swam regularly in Coolree Reservoir. I believe that, despite having left us behind, he was trying to live a ‘good’ life and control his drinking. I think he was happy there for the last few years of his life. A neighbour had offered him a room in their house; he did take this offer up but after a few months he moved back to the camp on the mountain. He was happy there living a solitary life.’ 

My Dad

‘A poem that came to me in the middle of the night - I think I dreamt it. I woke up and typed it into my phone because I knew I would not remember it in the morning.

My dad is the only black man in the village.

My dad is a gardener for the rich people in the big house.

My dad is sharpening his tools and listening to radio 4 in the shed.

My dad is sleeping, I am watching him sleep.

My dad is a keen cricketer, best player on the village team, he was from the West Indies.

My dad keeps dropping his knife and fork.

My dad has adopted my big sister, he wants her to have his name.

My dad has helped a man who has fallen off his bike, he has his St. Johns ambulance card in his wallet.

My dad has cut his leg badly, there is blood everywhere.

My dad has caught pheasants and rabbits; they are hanging in the back shed.

My dad is good with his hands, when they aren’t shaking. He made me a kite from paper and canes.

My dad is kind to animals, Sophie dog follows him everywhere, always carrying a cricket ball for him, go home Sophie.

My dad has written off the car.

My dad is the life and soul of the party.

My dad is pissing in the washing machine.

My dad is being shouted at by my mum.

My dad has spent all the money.

My dad has moved out.

My dad wants to treat us, he has taken us all to the pub for a roast dinner.

My dad has burnt the caravan he is living in to the ground.

My dad has moved away.

My dad has gone.’

Find out more