(Cannon Dredged from the First Wreck of the Ship of Fools)

The world of fools has such a store, That he who would not see an ass Must bide at home and bolt his door, And break his looking glass. Anon

This is the tenth sculpture in a series devoted to the theme of the 'Ship of Fools', a commentary on the foolishness of mankind wrapped in wry humour. Uncomfortably penetrating insights into human frailty and our seeming inability to learn from experience are all present in Endeavour. At first sight the bronze cannon looks real and convincing, a traditional weapon of war with its terrible ammunition placed in a pile close by and ready for use.

On closer inspection, however, the image falls apart. The cannon balls are representations of our world. The gun-barrel is the trunk of a tree, sprouting a leafy growth; it is supported by a crouching 'stick' man, sexually well endowed. Potential movement is found to be impossible as the wheels could not possibly work. They are metaphors for aspects of human life. Books represent an accumulation of knowledge from which we seem not to learn and here become dubious supports. A reel of cord, staked to the ground so that forward motion would cause it to unwind, hints at futility. A drum, the skin of which is pierced so that it could not possibly be played, is supported by a spindle which is a burning candle and would soon cease to exist. The last, a tray of food to keep the prisoner alive, has a spindle which is a flute for music to feed the mind. A prisoner? Well, yes, the undercarriage appears to be a prison door. Music sustains us, the prisoner plays a rousing tune on his accordion, the wolf/dog (the head of the man/man's friend?) bites its own leg.