There are good reasons why contemporary standards for ceramic tableware specify very low water absorption, and when I am developing a body for restaurant use, I take those requirements seriously. But I also find the subject fascinating because, historically, the story of ceramics is full of vessels that are deliberately porous. So where does that leave us? Is porosity something we should always try to eliminate, or is it simply a property of clay that can be useful in some ci

If you follow my journey on social media, you know how much I love this community. I love sharing the behind-the-scenes in my studio, the satisfying swoosh of a brush mark, the meditative rhythm of carving, the heartbreak of a failed piece, or the triumph of a wood-ash glaze. I genuinely love answering your questions and helping you understand this beautiful, muddy craft. But today, I want to have a candid, gentle conversation about something every maker faces: the price tag.

I didn't grow up dreaming of becoming a potter. I was an engineer, fascinated by mathematics and physics, before life slowly led me towards clay. Looking back, what once felt like a series of unrelated chapters now feels like one continuous story. This is the journey that taught me it's never too late to change direction.

The question often comes quietly, usually while someone is turning a cup in their hands. “Is this fragile?” It’s an understandable reaction. Raw clay looks closer to the earth than glazed ceramic does. It can feel exposed, almost unfinished, as if it might need careful handling or special treatment. But that feeling is slightly misleading. Stoneware is not in a fragile state. It has already been through fire. Why I like to leave parts of the clay exposed I often choose to lea

Every pottery fair brings a familiar question: "How long does it take to make one of these?" It's usually asked with genuine curiosity, and I completely understand why. Watching a potter throw a cup on the wheel can look wonderfully effortless. In a few minutes, a lump of clay becomes something recognisable. If that short moment were the whole story, a £30 cup might seem surprisingly expensive. But the truth is that the few minutes spent shaping the clay are only a tiny part

In modern terms, we often translate wabi-sabi simply as "the beauty of imperfection," but its roots run much deeper into Japanese history and Zen Buddhism. Originally, these words weren't even positive. Wabi referred to the loneliness of living a solitary life in nature, away from society. Over time, it evolved to mean finding quiet fulfillment in simplicity, rustic solitude, and minimalism. Sabi meant withered, rusted, or weathered. It came to represent the beautiful, gracef

When I step into my pottery studio, I often find myself caught between two opposing urges: the desire to control every detail and the need to surrender to the unpredictable nature of clay. This tension is familiar to many pottery enthusiasts. The wheel spins, the clay shifts, and my mind races to guide the process, yet the material resists total domination. Finding balance between control and letting go is not just a technical challenge but a deeply personal journey. In this