Why I Create Sgraffito Collections

For many years, clay has been at the centre of my working life. As a trained potter, I have spent countless hours teaching people to throw on the wheel, helping complete beginners discover the excitement of creating something with their own hands.

Teaching has been rewarding, but over time it gradually took over more and more of my creative life. My days became filled with lessons, kiln firings, preparing clay, cleaning the studio and helping students develop their skills. Somewhere along the way, I realised I was spending very little time creating work purely for myself.

A few months ago, something changed.

I found myself with a rare free afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Halton Mill was unusually quiet. I picked up one of my blank clay plaques, carried it outside the workshop, and sat in the warmth of the spring sunshine.

I hadn't created a sgraffito piece for months.

As I began scratching lines into the clay, something unexpected happened. Within minutes, I felt completely absorbed in the process. The worries and demands of the day disappeared, replaced by that wonderful feeling of being fully present in the act of making.

I only completed one small piece.

But the feeling stayed with me for the rest of the week.

I felt energised, inspired and genuinely happy. It was a reminder of something I had forgotten: creativity isn't simply what I do for a living. It's something I need.

That afternoon helped me realise what had been missing.

Creating my own work brings a sense of joy that is difficult to describe. It allows me to slow down, observe the world more carefully and connect with the things that inspire me most. I knew then that I needed to make space for that part of my life again, even if it meant teaching a little less.

So I began to carve out time for myself.

I took a sketchbook down to the River Lune, which flows past my studio. I sat quietly watching the water move through the landscape. I drove to the coast and spent time on the shores of Morecambe Bay, watching the changing weather, listening to birds calling overhead and studying the shapes of clouds moving across the sky.

I wasn't thinking about products or sales.

I was simply observing.

Sketching.

Recording ideas.

Allowing myself the freedom to be curious again.

Many of the designs in my first sgraffito collection have grown from those moments. The birds, coastlines, sea life and landscapes that appear in my work all begin as observations gathered during these quiet periods of looking and drawing.

Creating collections feels like a natural way to work. Rather than producing the same pieces continuously throughout the year, I can immerse myself in a particular theme, gather inspiration, develop ideas and then release a body of work that reflects that creative journey.

Each collection becomes a snapshot of a particular time, place and season.

This first collection represents something more than a group of ceramic pieces. It marks a return to personal creativity. It represents long afternoons beside the River Lune, sketchbook pages filled with ideas, walks along the coast, and the decision to make space once again for the part of my life that brings me the greatest joy.

And perhaps that's why I am so excited about sharing it.

Because these pieces are not simply objects made from clay.

They are the result of rediscovering something I had almost forgotten: the importance of making time to create.