I embrace the feeling of immense nature, the kind that silences everything inside you.
Cliffs shaped over millions of years.
The endless rhythm of the sea.
Forests with towering trees that stood long before me and will still stand long after I’m gone.
Stones softened by centuries of tide.

Places like the cliffs of Ault hold that kind of vastness.
They remind me how small I am, and how deeply I belong.

In my work, I try to capture the atmosphere of these places. My color palette is drawn from mist, waves, weathered stone, lichen, moss. Not to depict nature, but to evoke it. Most of my pieces are wheel-thrown. I love the rhythm and weight of this ancient craft. I create simple forms, sometimes with natural textures added, always aiming to let the clay speak for itself.

Clay moves me because it carries that same grounded, ancient feeling. It’s literally earth , old, quiet, real. And the firing process continues to fascinate me: the extreme heat, the transformation, the way you can never control it entirely. The fire speaks last.

When I first began, I spent a lot of time testing materials, exploring glaze responses, chasing certain effects. My original plan was to work as a production potter. And I did for a while under the name Triskel Pottery. But over time, I felt the need to slow down. I no longer wanted to produce in large quantities or repeat the same forms. I wanted to make with more attention, in smaller amounts, and at a quieter pace. A way of working that feels more intentional and more sustainable.

I also wanted to step out from behind a name that had started to feel like a brand. Triskel Pottery was a place of learning and growth, but it became a layer between me and the person holding my work. Now, I work under my birth name. It feels like the most honest step I can take, personal, grounded, close.

At the heart of it all, I hope the essence of my work is connection.
A connection with nature.
With earth.
With something quiet and true.
If someone holding one of my pieces feels even a small trace of that, then I’ve made something worthwhile.