October 2025
w/c 29 September 2025
Clay Journeys and Quiet Reflections
It’s been an informative, interesting and thought-provoking week - one filled with inspiration, conversation and inevitably, a little exhaustion. Our trip to Stoke for the British Ceramics Biennial (BCB) at the historic Spode Factory was a highlight, there’s something grounding about being surrounded by so much creative energy and such a rich history of making.
The exhibitions did not disappoint. The BCB Award Prize Winner, Jo Taylor, presented truly stunning work and it was wonderful to see her success recognised after the generous time she shared with me during my research earlier in the year. Kyra Cane’s dynamic pieces captured that sense of movement and energy I always find so captivating, while Susan Halls’ awe-inspiring sculptures reminded me once again of the power of form to hold emotion and narrative. The colourful, abstract work of Alison Rees struck a particular chord with me - something about her use of shape and colour resonated deeply with my graphics background and my continuing fascination with the interplay between control and spontaneity.
The BCB Fresh exhibition was equally inspiring, brimming with vitality and new ideas. Catalin Filip’s work explored materiality in such a tactile and intriguing way, Ceri Shaw’s mark-making was utterly absorbing and Caroline Gray’s exploration of colour and texture drew me in immediately. Each artist reminded me that there are so many ways to interpret and express our connection with clay.
The afternoon brought another highlight - a guided tour of the Potclays factory. It was fascinating to see behind the scenes of a company so integral to the ceramics community and to better understand the processes that underpin so much of what we take for granted in the studio.
Back at university, we second-year students hosted a welcome lunch for the new first years - a lovely annual tradition in the ceramics department. It was wonderful to feel the energy of new beginnings in the air and to reflect on how far we’ve come since we were in their shoes just a year ago.
In the studio, form No. 9 emerged from the kiln this week. I must admit, I felt a little disappointed with it. Something about the freestanding sculptural direction doesn’t quite feel right for me - at least, not at the moment. I’m still processing why that is, and what that might mean for my next steps. For now, I’m working on several other forms at various stages - experimenting with underglazes, adding texture and exploring surface treatment through smaller maquettes.
A few of these small pieces have really surprised me. They’ve opened up new possibilities for surface development, particularly around mono-printing and mark-making. I keep coming back to this - the graphic language that sits quietly at the heart of my practice. Perhaps it’s time I fully embrace it, exploring the strength of a simple mark or a bold block of colour as a key part of my evolving visual vocabulary.
The MA Show also came to an end this week. It’s been a privilege to witness the incredible work of the graduating students and I wish them all the very best as they move forward in their creative journeys.
w/c 6 October 2025
Disruptions, Discoveries and Baby Steps Forward
As an artist, no two weeks are ever the same. Just when you find yourself slipping into a creative groove - working consistently, finding rhythm, seeing progress - something always seems to come along to disrupt the flow.
At the end of last week, I had a plan. Admittedly, a vague one, but a plan nonetheless - to continue exploring the theme of memories of place and the emotional connections woven through them and to give these ideas more context within my work. However, the arrival of our feedback from the last module on Friday sent me spiralling down a rabbit hole - or perhaps more accurately a warren - of reflection. Trying to understand how best to progress my work and thinking in order to elevate my practice has been unsettling, but I know that sitting with this discomfort is often where the most meaningful growth happens.
Once I made it into the university studio, I managed to complete the coloured clay tapered ribbon texture on Form 12. This piece feels like a culmination of several previous explorations - a point where form, colour and surface have begun to speak the same language. It’s inspired by the vibrant spring verge I see from my home studio window: the fresh greens of new growth, the buttery yellow of buttercups and the tall white cow parsley gently swaying in the breeze. It will be a few weeks before I see the results after its several firings, but already I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. Is this nervousness a good sign? Perhaps it means I am finally beginning to form that emotional connection I have been seeking with my work - that quiet dialogue between memory, place and clay.
Inspiration often appears unexpectedly. There’s a small painted stool at university that I must have walked past hundreds of times, yet this week it caught my attention as if for the first time. The simple bold pattern and blue hues on its seat made me think of a hot summer’s day - and suddenly, I saw how this idea could translate to the surface of a sculptural vessel. It was one of those fleeting sparks that simply made me smile and it’s now firmly noted in my sketchbook.
In an attempt to push my work further, I also began experimenting with using contour lines from a new perspective - rolling out slabs to create a more structured vessel form. Unfortunately, it didn’t go quite as planned. The slabs were too thin and I realised I wasn’t truly engaged with the process. I’ll reclaim the clay and try again when I feel more committed to the idea. For now, it’s a reminder that sometimes I try to run before I can walk - baby steps Shenac.
What’s Inspiring Me This Week:
This week, I’ve found myself drawn to the architectural yet organic forms of Ken Eastman, whose work captures that elusive balance between structure and emotion - something I continue to strive for in my own practice. His pieces feel both deliberate and intuitive, as though the clay itself is allowed to find its rhythm within the boundaries he sets.
The expressive mark-making of Ceri Shaw also inspires me. Her work is deeply rooted in her connection to landscape - translating the emotional experience of place through rhythm, movement and texture. This resonates strongly with my own exploration of memory and connection to place, and reminds me that landscape can be interpreted not as a literal depiction, but as an emotional response to the environments that shape us. Her confident gestures capture that energy beautifully, reinforcing for me the power of a single mark to hold feeling, memory and presence.
And then there’s Alison Rees, whose graphic sensibility and vibrant use of colour connect so deeply with my own creative roots in design. Her work reminds me that boldness and precision can coexist - that the graphic and the organic need not be opposites, but can instead enhance one another in ways that feel fresh and compelling.
Each of these artists, in their own way, reinforces the notion that contrast, control and intuition can exist side by side - much like the themes I continue to explore through my Memories of Place series.
w/c 13 October 2025
Exploring the Space In Between
Still drawn to the idea of creating a vertical, freestanding sculpture informed by the contour of a place, I’ve been quietly developing new exploratory forms in my home studio this week. So far, my attempts in this direction have felt unresolved, yet I remain determined to keep testing and refining the possibilities.
Revisiting the work of Pinar Baklan, I’ve been especially struck by the dialogue she creates between paired vessels - a conversation held within the space in between. I’m beginning to see how this notion of an “in-between” space could be defined by the contour of a place, allowing the emotional connections I’m exploring to flow through and between the vessels. It feels like an idea worth pursuing more deeply.
Back at university, I’ve been building on the small maquettes from a few weeks ago, pushing the idea of a slab-built vessel whose form is shaped by a specific contour line. The surface becomes a site for exploration through graphic mark-making and colour, each informed by my memory of that landscape. I can envisage this evolving into a series of vessel-based sculptures which, when placed together, form a larger, continuous contour - an interconnected flow of memory, form and place.
Much of this week, however, was spent away from the studio at the Great Northern Contemporary Craft Fair (GNCCF), held at the beautiful Victoria Baths in Manchester. I was privileged to show some of my work on the University of Lancashire stand (it still feels strange saying that new name!) alongside past MA Ceramics students Kim Stuttard, Stef Kerek and David Gammage. Watching people engage with my work - seeing their curiosity, emotional responses and interpretations - was both fascinating and deeply affirming. It reminded me why I make: to spark that quiet moment of connection between viewer and object.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but this sense of connection feels like an important step - a small but powerful reminder that the conversations I’m trying to hold through my ceramic forms are beginning to be heard.
What’s Inspiring Me This Week
This week’s inspiration has centred around artists who explore dialogue within form - both in physical space and through visual rhythm.
Pinar Baklan’s paired vessels continue to fascinate me, their tension and harmony defined by the negative space between them - that quiet, poetic in-between that holds emotional resonance.
Similarly, the work of Paola Paronetto and Caroline Gray has drawn my attention, particularly in how they use groupings of forms to create a visual conversation. Both artists employ tonal colour palettes that shift subtly between pieces, establishing a sense of unity and flow, while still allowing each form its own voice. Their arrangements have a gentle rhythm and coherence that mirror how memories and emotions can overlap - distinct yet connected.
Together, these artists’ approaches have encouraged me to think not only about each individual form, but about the collective language my pieces might speak when seen side by side.
w/c 20 October 2025
Where Reflection Meets Making
While the studio is where I feel most grounded and at ease, I’m realising that making alone isn’t always enough. Sometimes the most essential part of the process is stepping back - pausing to reflect, questioning what I am trying to communicate and considering how others might experience the work. Learning to slow down in this way has become one of the most valuable aspects of undertaking this MA. It is teaching me not just to make, but to think with intention - to allow my practice to deepen, expand and evolve.
The response to my sculpture ‘Where Winter Breathes’ at the Great Northern Contemporary Craft Fair last week has stayed with me. Watching visitors engage with the piece, seeing how the form and surface evoked emotional responses, offered a moment of clarity. My methodology of shaping sculptural vessels from the contours of place - and using surface to evoke memory, atmosphere and emotional resonance - feels increasingly rooted. The aim remains the same: to distill the essence of landscape, to create surfaces that are dynamic yet quiet, powerful yet subtle and to hold a memory in form.
With this renewed sense of purpose, I’ve been thinking more deeply about the role of mark-making within my work. I’m allowing myself to return to the graphic sensibility that has always been part of me - to explore rhythm, pattern and repetition as ways of expressing the movement and flow of remembered places. Over the coming weeks, I intend to work more freely in my sketchbook - pens, inks, paint, pastels, anything that feels instinctive - experimenting with how these marks might translate to clay surfaces in a meaningful and honest way. It feels like opening a window I had only been peering through.
What’s Inspiring Me This Week:
Sakiyama Takayuki - His sculptural vessels echo the movements of wind and water - surface and form working together to capture the sensation of landscape itself. There is a quietness and rhythm to his work that resonates deeply with where I hope my own practice is heading.
Culture Colony: Gordon Baldwin In Conversation with Moira Vincentelli at Ruthin Craft Centre in 2013
“Titles are like signposts - they indicate the way I view it, not necessarily the way you view it.”
While listening to this interview, this comment from Gordon Baldwin has stayed with me. Naming ‘Where Winter Breathes’ recently, opened a new level of connection for me - an internal alignment between memory, meaning and material. A reminder that titles can clarify intention, without closing the work off to other interpretations.
