I didn’t grow up thinking I’d become an artist.

In fact, I spent the first few years of my career in advertising and brand strategy, helping other people bring their ideas to life. It was creative, fast-paced and incredibly rewarding—but somewhere along the way, I realised I was spending all my energy building other people’s visions and not enough time exploring my own.

Ceramics entered my life as what was supposed to be just a hobby. That clearly didn’t go to plan.

Unlike many ceramic artists, I came to clay with no formal background in art or design. I hadn’t studied fine arts, and I certainly didn’t have a five-year plan that involved kilns, glaze buckets and obsessing over why one firing did that. I simply stumbled upon clay, got completely hooked, and eventually trusted my gut enough to leave a stable career and start again.

I went on to train professionally in ceramics through an intensive eight-month programme, where I learnt that clay is both incredibly forgiving and completely unforgiving—which somehow makes perfect sense once you’ve worked with it.

Today, my practice is fuelled by curiosity more than anything else. I love making functional pieces that carry an unexpected twist, experimenting with new surface techniques, and asking “what happens if…” far more often than “what’s the right way?” I’m happiest when I discover something accidentally that I can’t find in a book or on the internet.

The beautiful thing about clay is that I don’t think I’ll ever finish learning it. Every time I think I’ve understood the medium, it has a wonderfully humbling way of proving me wrong. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Artist Statement: I don’t usually start with an idea—I start by making.

Most of my work comes from following curiosity rather than a plan. I rarely sketch or work from references because I enjoy not knowing exactly where a piece is going. Somewhere between my hands and the clay, bits of everything I’ve seen, felt and experienced seem to find their way into the work. It’s almost like my subconscious has been paying attention this whole time.

I’m fascinated by how much clay asks of you. It rewards patience, punishes shortcuts and has a funny way of keeping you humble. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, it reminds you that you haven’t—and I secretly love that about it.

I enjoy making functional objects that don’t take themselves too seriously. A mug, a bowl or a vase can still surprise you, make you look twice or leave you wondering, “How did they think of that?” I like combining unexpected forms, textures and ideas, creating pieces that feel familiar but are just a little offbeat.

More than anything, I want my work to spark curiosity. I don’t want there to be one correct way of looking at it. If two people walk away with completely different interpretations, I think the piece has done its job.

For me, ceramics isn’t about reaching a point where I know everything. It’s about staying curious enough that every new piece teaches me something I didn’t know before.