New Practice 2026

Shedding and New Beginnings...sewing seeds

As I enter my seventh decade, I find myself in a period of contemplation, reflecting on the paths that have shaped my work and life. This moment of reflection is opening space for new possibilities and ways of working, where I can align my practice more deeply with my heart, my values rooted in care for the Earth, and responsive to the climate crisis that defines our time.

I now see myself as an orchestrator — weaving together creative encounters along the way, inviting collaboration and sharing at every turn. My hope is to inspire others to remain playful and imaginative, even through dark or uncertain times, and to find meaningful, expressive ways to hold and transform grief, as well as our hope.
Through my practice, I seek to create spaces of tenderness, renewal, and connection — places where creativity becomes both a witness and an act of repair.

Reflection on my Artist’s Journey

For 25 years, my practice has been shaped by a kind of survival intelligence — adaptability, graft, ingenuity, and stamina. That intelligence has served me well. It built a life, a reputation, a body of work, and a community. But it also demanded relentless motion.
I am now gently letting go of the belief that busyness equals legitimacy.

After years of working as a self-employed artist, I recognise that the focus of my creative life has, out of necessity, been bound to financial return. I take pride in having sustained a living through my practice, which includes teaching and running workshops, lecturing, exhibiting, and selling work at galleries and national ceramic shows. I’ve forged collaborative partnerships, managed public art projects, and received Arts Council funding for several initiatives. These experiences have been enriching and diverse — bricks, clay, poetry,song and creativity weaving throughout my professional life.

Yet this chapter of reflection allows space for something new: a practice driven less by survival and more by intention and alignment. I want my work to arise from curiosity and care, particularly in response to the climate crisis and the emotional landscapes we navigate together.
Turning sixty has brought with it a wider lens. Alongside my artistic practice, I have been Mother to a bright, creative, neurodiverse daughter — sharing in her unfolding journey and the unique perspectives it brings. In the same year, I cared for my dying father, an inspiring poet and musician with a generous spirit and  humour.  Honouring his life through the planting of trees, the reading of his poetry, the scattering of his ashes, and the creation of Ceramic Memory Stones that held fragments of his being — deepened my understanding of art as remembrance, and of love made tangible.

Now, from this quieter space, I am listening for what comes next — seeking a slower, truer rhythm. One that honours the intelligence that kept me moving, but also welcomes a gentler wisdom: to create with heart, with intention, and in kinship with the living world.

I am letting go of a practice shaped by economic urgency and moving toward one shaped by ecological, relational, and spiritual responsibility—where making is inseparable from listening, and where clay is allowed to return what it teaches