Clare Gaylard Glass 

Sometimes I have to fight an urge to keep my certain pieces of my work, some things just 'say' what you wanted them to. It might not be complex but it can be deep. Primavera just went and I shall miss her ultra femininity. When I was nine my mother made me an 18thC crinolined lady as a birthday cake. Her upper torso was entirely sculpted from icing, she held a fan and wore a white pompadour wig studded with tiny roses. That elaborate, royal-icing and Victoria Sponge lady could kick any of todays Barbie cakes to the kerb. Primavera makes me think of her.

My amazing mother also made cakes of Aladdin's Lamp, forts, treasure chests, Sleeping Beauty asleep on her bed, dragons, dinosaurs, fairytale castles and another personal favourite, a large pumpkin drawn by plump white mice on liquorice strings. Her talent fairly gilded a childhood where I'm sure I was once I was told I was having a new sibling instead of a bike.