In your own words, how would you describe your creative work?

Emotionally provocative. Whether it's pottery or photography, I use these mediums to help process my experiences and emotions. I hope my work resonates with people and their own experiences. My photography provided a visual language to a dysfunctional and abusive relationship—subjects that are hard to discuss. Unfortunately, people can be dismissive of your experiences. Creating photographs that reflected what I went through was very cathartic. Similarly, I've used ceramics in the same way. My graduation project featured spinning tops, with each side of the body representing an emotion or reaction to someone or something. The underside symbolises our hidden emotions, the feelings we conceal to protect ourselves. Creating an interactive form led to some very moving and personal conversations. When it comes to teaching, I love sharing the knowledge and passion I have for clay, in a fun accessible way. Stepping into making something creatively can be very intimidating I hope I put everyone who attends my classes at ease.

When did you first discover your passion for art?

I’m asked this question a lot, and it’s something I often think about. Art and creativity have always been a big part of my life, thanks to my father, who encouraged curiosity and creativity from a very young age. As soon as we could squeeze our hands into little fists, he would place warmed plasticine in them for us to experience the sensation and tactility of the material. This was in the ‘70s, and his understanding of the importance of sensory input for a child’s development was incredible. You would often find me making mud pies and sploshing my hands in frog spawn—we had the freedom to explore the world around us in every creative way possible without restriction or judgment.

However, there was a pivotal day in my childhood, probably when I was 6 or 7. I had, how shall I put it, a strong dislike for school (which continued until the day I left education). One day, after the usual tears and heartbreak of dragging my feet to school, we had a special guest: a potter. For once, I was engaged. I loved this material, and I loved school that day. I made a wibbly-wonky pot. Apparently, it was terrible, but I didn’t care. That day triggered a lifelong love of clay, but pottery is expensive, and it became a medium I couldn’t explore properly until I was an adult (there is so much more to this, but that will have to be for another day).

As life is rarely linear and often complicated, it took me a while to get back onto the path of a potter. I have only ever had creative jobs. Straight from school, I was a window dresser for Army and Navy and Debenhams (in Gravesend). I worked briefly in an office, which was a disaster—I am definitely not an office person. I’ve dabbled in photography; my dad loved photography, and my aunt used to take wonderful photographs, influencing my love of the medium. My heart belongs to clay, though.

The short answer would be: I fell in love with it at the age of 6! 

What's the creative process?

My creative process usually begins after an existential crisis and a good stare into the abyss. Eventually, I stop telling myself I can’t do this and get down to work (usually). When I have complete creative freedom and am making for pleasure rather than a commission, my approach is very different, as each has its unique process.

When designing new work, I often draw from my lived experiences as my main source of inspiration, designing through making rather than using a sketchbook. I would describe myself as a 3D thinker; I visualise and troubleshoot in my mind because what I want to create doesn’t always translate well onto paper. My process isn’t easy to describe. For example, if I’m turning plaster on the lathe to make a mould, I have a rough idea of where I want my work to go, but as I work, I dig deep into my core memories and emotions. Thinking about someone or a time in my life often brings a shape out of my subconscious. From this initial idea, I develop and refine the plaster form. It’s like automatic drawing, but with plaster!

Music and movement are often key and work hand in hand with the making process, though this typically comes at a later stage.

What does a typical day look like to you?

Every day is so varied. I’m trying to maintain a routine, and as much as I loathe it, I know I need it to succeed. I get up between 6 and 6:30 am, mainly because I stubbornly want to keep to this time for when I have a busy day and I am not floored by fatigue from the shock of getting up early. I'm currently trying to kick the terrible habit of doomscrolling for a couple of hours, so now I get up and go for a walk. I lost my lovely dog Sammy a few years ago; he’s the reason I established the early morning start in the first place. Now I borrow dogs or, recently, I go for a walk on my own, hoping to see as many dogs as possible to help kickstart my day with a dog-infused serotonin fix. I also have chronic pain, and getting moving is key to a successful day.

If I’m teaching in one of my workshops, I might have a kiln to unpack, students’ work to wrap and repack, and a car to load. I currently work out of two studios: I teach in the attic studio at Munns, and my kiln is at home. This means there’s a lot of back-and-forth with the work, as most pottery needs two firings.

There’s always admin to do, and having two studios means double the cleaning. I recycle all the clay from my home studio and from my classes. There's testing, planning for the coming months, and making to do. Some mornings can be very chilled, and I can be at the potter’s wheel by 7 am. I’m usually in one studio or the other, preferring to be there thinking, planning, or researching rather than watching TV.

I’d love to say I am a picture of serenity, gracefully moving from one job to the next seamlessly, crushing this boss work. But it’s usually organized chaos, with a fragmented mind stumbling through. Yet, my unwavering passion for sharing my knowledge drives me through each day. 

What have you learned most about yourself in recent times?

Gosh, this is going to be hard not to sound like a cliché. Over the past couple of years, I've learned a lot about myself. There have been pivotal moments that have made me view myself and my life differently. First, losing my beautiful dog Sammy. Sammy came crashing into my life a few years back as a rescue dog with issues. As much as we changed his life, he changed mine massively and altered its trajectory. In his short life, he showed me how to push myself further than I thought possible and how you can change people's preconceived ideas of who you are. He showed me we are capable of change and of being the best version of ourselves.

Last year, at the ripe old age of 53, I graduated from Central Saint Martins. This is something I never imagined I could achieve. I had an absolute disdain for formal education—oh boy, do I wish we had forest schools and home education when I was younger. At the end of my second year, I finally requested an assessment for dyslexia, something I had delayed due to my awful school experience. I truly thought I was just stupid; it had been ground into me from a young age, becoming an internal monologue that held me back.

During the assessment, I spoke to my assessor about my terrible education experience. She was kind and caring. As the assessment progressed, I reached a point where I had enough, but she encouraged me to keep going. At the end of the assessment, she explained that I was severely dyslexic but had a high IQ. I had a good cry afterwards. A late-in-life diagnosis can be very freeing but also leaves you yearning for the life you could have had. This diagnosis changed how I viewed myself. I had to lift the lifelong restrictions I had placed on myself due to how others viewed me.

Not only did I graduate with first-class honours and A's throughout my final year, but I also discovered a newfound love for writing and finally began to believe in myself and my capabilities. Although I'm still plagued with imposter syndrome, I'm surrounded by people who believe in me, and now I'm starting to listen to them.

Do you have any wisdom you can share with others who are thinking of launching a creative business?

I’m not sure if I have any pearls of wisdom or if I am the right person to give advice, but I would say: be brave, have faith in yourself, and, most importantly, be authentic. Go for it. It can take time, so be patient. Don’t listen to anyone who tries to rain on your parade or steer you off your path. Stay focused on what you want to achieve. Listen to good advice and discard anything that doesn't serve you well. Oh, and surround yourself with a supportive community—the power of encouragement is absolutely priceless.

What is on your mind right now?

That's a question! I have a million things on my mind at any given moment—it's like a spinning Rolodex. Right now, I'm thinking I've written way too much. It's Friday evening, and I'll be heading back to the studio soon and there are a million things to do, so I am forming a list.

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