A Turn in the Clay: Embracing Complexity Through Simplicity

There’s been a shift in my work lately — subtle at first, but now it's unmistakably present in the pieces I make.

I've found myself thinking more and more about the complexity of life forms: how they grow, overlap, interact, and evolve. But instead of trying to capture that intricacy with detail or technical precision, I’m moving in the opposite direction. I’m simplifying.

This plate — still damp and waiting for its first firing — marks that change. It holds three bold, almost childlike apples, outlined loosely, their red skins layered with expressive brush marks and textured splashes. The leaves are green, but not the “perfect” shade. The background is alive with flicks of colour, giving the piece movement and spontaneity. None of it is exact, but it all feels right.

In the past, I might have tried to refine it further — to “correct” the shape or sharpen the lines — but now I’m learning to let the clay speak in its own voice. The beauty is in its immediacy, its honesty.

What I’m exploring now is the idea that simplicity can hold complexity. That you can suggest a whole world — the curve of an apple, the energy of a growing tree, the messiness of nature — with just a few bold strokes and intuitive choices. It’s not minimalism for the sake of aesthetics. It’s clarity. Confidence. Even vulnerability.

My pottery is turning toward this new rhythm: looser, more painterly, more expressive. I’m not trying to imitate life; I’m trying to interpret it. To respond to it with my hands and heart.

This shift also echoes something deeper happening in my creative practice. I’m more interested now in process than perfection. In play rather than performance. And in sharing something real — not polished or gallery-ready, but alive and human.

So here's to turning — to letting our work evolve, and trusting the clay to carry that change.