I have been working with ceramics for over 15 years, creating hand-built pieces inspired by the ocean, beaches, bush and natural materials found along the coast. Much of my work begins with driftwood collected along the shoreline. I’m drawn to pieces that have already lived a life in the water — weathered, textured and shaped by the elements. These fragments become the foundations for small ceramic sculptures that grow slowly and intuitively from their form.
On these driftwood bases I build tiny houses, sea creatures and detailed miniature elements. Small fish, shells, coral and other unexpected details are often tucked into the work, rewarding close looking. I like the idea that there is always something just out of sight — that if you lean in, you might discover another small story unfolding. The pieces sit between coastal landscape and imagined world, grounded in nature with a subtle sense of whimsy.
Storytelling has always shaped how I see the world. There’s a thread of childhood imagination running through my work — the feeling that behind a rock, beneath a jetty or at the bottom of the garden something small and magical might exist. I’m inspired by the coast, but also by a sense of quiet wonder and exploration. I aim to create work that feels familiar yet slightly unexpected.
My connection to making began early. My grandmother was a potter and dried flower artist who could turn her hand to almost any craft. She approached every creative task with patience and skill, and as a child I followed her constantly, watching and learning. She showed me that making by hand was both practical and joyful — not something mysterious, but something you simply did. That influence continues to shape my practice today.
I enjoy the contrast between the raw character of driftwood and the controlled process of shaping clay. Ceramics requires patience — building, drying, firing and glazing — and I value that steady rhythm. Each piece evolves through touch and adjustment rather than rigid planning, developing its own personality.
Through my work, I hope to invite viewers to slow down, look closely and reconnect with the small details of the shoreline — and perhaps rediscover a sense of quiet curiosity about what might exist just beyond view.