Working with clay is an intimate experience, a sensual relationship, an adventure of the senses. I make with my hands, my body, my breath and the ground under my feet—rooted. Throwing pots on the wheel can be both a deeply personal moment and a creative act offered into space.
Entering the workshop
The cool earth caresses my feet. The humid air of drying pots whispers against my skin. The birds sing. I pause – breathing in, breathing out – and tune into the rhythm of my body. An idea flickers, a spark of motivation. I cup it lightly, ready to let go if the moment leads somewhere else.
My hands meet cool, wet clay—I never know what will come. Each act of creation is a step into the unknown. Sometimes the process flows seamlessly; other times, it slips into chaos. But I am rooted to the ground, leaving my fingers free to explore and play the unknown.
Beginnings
Creation is a precise moment—a dot in space and time from which form emerges. The challenge lies in that instant, feeling it, trusting it and following it through no matter where it leads. It’s a path of ease, a balancing act in which fingers move with intent and clarity.
The process is not always kind. Pieces collapse. Fingers and tools rip apart a pot. Yet the adventure only ends when clay is cut from the wheel. Although imagination is always present, nourishing a world of possibilities, my practice is guided by instinct. I love the feeling of pushing clay to its limit and seeing what will happen.
A creative spiral
I most often throw series of 10-20 pots. While many potters sketch their ideas on paper, I’ve never felt comfortable with a pen in hand. Instead, the first couple of pots are my sketches: re-iterations of an emerging idea until something clicks. At this moment, I know I’m invited to repeat and explore a given form, design, texture and/or movement until the end of a series. With practice, the end of one series is often the starting point for a new series. And I continue to dance around a theme until the end bell rings.
The end is simple
No more clay on the wheel. Tired hands. A loss of concentration. It’s time for a break: a cup of tea, a walk in nature, or simply, lunch.