May 2026 Monthly Analysis of Progress

The month of May has been less merry than tradition states and more of a festival of stress. The older I get, the less I cope with deadlines, and this last month has been lived under the looming cloud of Ceramic Wales.

I'm an organised kind of person and this should have been fine, but I've had a few disasters that set my progress back somewhat.

My plan was to have Lady Delores and Her Weaponised Parasol as a large piece, alongside Jago Deaders 1881 RIP as the main pieces for my stand. Having made Lady D and noting she took a full six days simply to build, aside from my needs for the fair, I had reservations on this as a way forward with my practice. This simply would never be financially viable, as with this amount of time to build, fire and ultimately glaze a piece, I could never attach a price tag worthy of the time taken.

This realisation felt rather significant. Up until this point I think I had been viewing my work primarily through the lens of making and aesthetics. However, Ceramic Wales forced me to consider my practice from a more practical and sustainable perspective. There is little point in developing a body of work that I cannot realistically continue to produce. It made me appreciate that creativity and commercial realities are not opposing forces but need to work alongside one another if my practice is to have longevity.

I went home and, over the next few days, I engaged my business brain. I devised a business model for my practice with levels; large pieces with a suitable price tag, busts as an interim level, plaques as the level below and then mini heads that hang as small pieces. Each level should then take relevant levels of time, e.g. the mini heads should be a quick build. It was reminiscent of David William Sampson's approach that we discussed during my interview with him for my assignment last year.

The more I thought about this structure, the more sensible it seemed. It allows me to maintain ambitious, larger narrative works whilst also creating pieces that are more financially accessible and achievable to produce. More importantly, each level still belongs to the same fictional world and contributes towards the overall narratives. Rather than diluting my practice, this layered approach actually feels as though it strengthens it.

Back to my original plans for Ceramic Wales and I made the decision to implement the new way forward, despite the ensuing time constraints. I drew up some designs for busts and plaques and set about building. The busts would be head and shoulders only on a plinth but were designed to incorporate the personality of the character. The plaques would be half of my characters with some kind of narratives added in. The mini heads would be a variation on the ones I had already made.

I came back to uni the following week on a mission. I had already built three plaques and was pleased with them. Chatting to Rob about my new organisational structure, he suggested I made some mini clockwork mice for the fair, as opposed to the mini heads. I liked this idea and decided it would suit another business model aspect I had decided upon; making limited edition small pieces that people could collect.

I decided to fire the plaques at home as that was where I made them. This was my first disaster. One of the three, Jago Deaders, simply exploded. I'm unsure why, but I suspect, having discussed it, that it was too fast a bisque firing.

Whilst initially frustrating, I am accepting that technical failures are simply part of working in clay. Unlike many materials, ceramics can happily wait until the very end of a lengthy process before informing you that something has gone terribly wrong. The explosion was inconvenient, but it also reinforced the importance of understanding and respecting process rather than attempting to rush it.

My next disaster was not at my own hands but happened when Lady Delores and Her Weaponised Parasol was being put into the kiln, slightly later than envisaged due to delays beyond my control. She was accidentally knocked and damaged quite significantly. I ended up driving back to uni on the Friday evening and collecting all of the bits with a view to fixing her at home.

I managed to rebuild her. It was very, very challenging and stressful, but I got her back together again and in one piece. I fired her to bisque with more than one prayer to the kiln gods. She survived with a war wound of a very minor crack on her box.

However, the glazing I had planned would now not be possible as she could only be low fired due to the crack. I came up with a Plan B. I simply dirty washed her with underglaze and bisque fired her again. Once more, she survived. She's exactly as I envisaged her, but I think a clear matte glaze atop the underglaze wash would improve her. I'm wary of firing her for a third time due to the crack on the box.

In hindsight, this whole episode demonstrated something important about my practice. I am becoming increasingly adaptable. Earlier in my studies I suspect I would have viewed the damage as catastrophic and perhaps even abandoned the piece. Instead, I problem-solved my way through it and accepted compromises where necessary. Whilst the finished piece is not exactly as I had originally planned, it still communicates what I intended and has taught me that flexibility is every bit as important a skill as making itself.

All of this was taking up much of the short amount of time I had. By this point I had made the decision to decamp back to my home studio and save myself two and a half hours a day commuting time to university. This could obviously be better spent.

This decision also forced me to consider how I value my time. I often think only in terms of making hours, but the commute was effectively costing me the equivalent of another working day each week. With deadlines looming, reclaiming that time felt less like convenience and more like a strategic necessity.

I rebuilt the Jago Deaders plaque so that I would have a complete set for Ceramic Wales.

Earlier in the month I took a trip to visit Ceramic Art London. It was a very enjoyable day, full of inspiration, information and beautiful ceramic artwork. Whilst there, I noticed a few stands that utilised metallic glazes rather than lustres. I made a note and completed some online research. A trip to Potclays was in order so that I could go and explore the possibilities.

I found two glazes, Spectrum Metallic in Wrought Iron and Amaco Potters Choice in Saturation Metallic. One was a high-fire glaze and one a low-fire glaze. Potentially combining these with my two matte transparent glazes and the dirty wash that I liked held possibilities. Additionally, I purchased a matte transparent crackle glaze that I liked the look of.

I have long since recognised that visiting exhibitions and fairs functions as research in its own right. Seeing work in person often reveals technical possibilities that would never occur to me through books or social media. It also reminds me how much information is lost through photographs and how surfaces, finishes and scale fundamentally alter the experience of a ceramic piece.

My next larger build was a bust. As I have a larger Deaders build and had made the Lady Delores larger build, I opted to make a bust of Scrawny. I started with the plinth, which I was quite pleased with. It did, however, turn out a tad larger than envisaged and the Scrawny I made for the top was too small. I made a larger Scrawny and then a smaller plinth, so in the end I had two busts.

This felt like another useful lesson in scale and proportion. What I can visualise in my head and what actually exists in three dimensions do not always align. Fortunately, clay is rather forgiving in this respect and often rewards happy accidents. Instead of ending up with one bust, I ended up with two possible outcomes and a better understanding of proportion.

Whilst these were either air drying or in the kiln, I set about making the wee clockwork mice. I decided to put them on a circus drum to tie in with my Freakshow theme. I also carefully timed how long it took me to make a batch of ten mice. All told, the build of both mice and plinths, glazing each piece and then further dirty washing before bisque firing again took me twenty hours. Two hours per mouse.

They met my brief and looked really cute. I wrote the limited edition details on each base with a glaze pencil and added metal whiskers before the final firing.

I found myself rather pleased by this outcome because it demonstrated that my newly devised structure might actually work. The mice felt complete as pieces in their own right rather than scaled-down versions of larger works. They also retained their narrative qualities whilst remaining relatively efficient to produce. This balance between storytelling, individuality and practicality is increasingly becoming central to my thinking.

The task of glazing the busts saw me trial all my new glazes. I opted to use the dirty wash on the plinth and accessories, with Gordon Baldwin on top. The body, head and eyes of the cat I used the Amaco Saturation Metallic and fired the piece to cone 6 (1230°C).

The crackle glaze I applied to the bottom of the smaller bust intending to Indian ink it once fired. Whilst it came out of the kiln looking suitably matte glazed, there was no trace of a crackle. I obviously need to undertake further testing on this piece with my clay body.

I think I am slowly arriving at the conclusion that glazes rarely behave entirely as anticipated. Every test seems to answer one question and produce three more. Whilst occasionally exasperating, this process is also gradually refining my aesthetic preferences. I continue to return to matte finishes and dirty washes, and the consistency of this preference perhaps indicates that I am moving towards a more defined visual language.

So, as a recap, the merry, merry month of May was not to be this year. After completing many ten and eleven-hour days in the studio, I feel my life was taken over entirely by my practice and can only apologise to those around me who felt the effects.

I've learned a great deal and accomplished much. Mostly, I actually do have work to take to the fair with me now, which I really didn't have before. I also feel I have an organised way forward with my practice and I'm taking that as progress.

Perhaps the most significant thing I have learned this month is that progress does not always feel positive whilst it is happening. Much of May felt chaotic, stressful and rather overwhelming. However, looking back, some of my most useful developments have emerged directly from setbacks, compromises and enforced changes of direction. In many respects, this month has felt less about producing objects and more about developing resilience, adaptability and a clearer understanding of how I want my practice to function.

As the end of my MA looms ever nearer, I'm beginning to see how much progress I have made over the last couple of years. However, I don't have time to dwell on this given how much work I still have to cover before I complete in just a few short months.

Increasingly, though, I am beginning to appreciate that the MA has not simply improved my technical skills. It has fundamentally altered the way I think about my practice. I am making more informed decisions, questioning my processes more critically and beginning to understand how narratives, making and business considerations can work together. There remains much to do, but I finally feel as though I have a framework from which to move forward.