Immortalising Nature in Clay

The final results? Three hand-sculpted, seasonal food platters that celebrated the bounty of the Kitchen Garden, each one a unique representation of the plants and foods for the tables. To create these, I went on a shopping spree (not my favourite activity!) for all the fruits, vegetables, and flowers I could find. These became my still-life subjects, and I started sculpting each piece by hand—no molds, just pure hand-building techniques. I pinched, carved, pressed, rolled, cut, and smoothed the clay until each piece looked lifelike.

The process was incredibly therapeutic. I lost all sense of time as I worked and noticed details in food that I’d never paid attention to before: the intricate patterns, the subtle color variations, and the beautiful textures that leaves create. Capturing these details in clay felt like I was immortalizing the beauty of nature.

Summer

Autumn

Playing with clay has always been my favorite escape; I get completely lost in the process of making. This recent project, however, was a real challenge—not just creatively, but also because of all the project management, community consultations, and activities it required. It was incredibly fulfilling, but it definitely left me pressed for time!

Creating from nature’s gifts has taught me a lot about timing and patience. Nature has its own rhythm, and respecting it is essential to getting things right. There were several points during this project where I was cutting it fine. It was the school holidays, and with three kids needing attention, GCSE results day, a sweet 16 plus another large project waiting for installation and taking up studio space, it felt like everything was working against me! To top it off, my kiln decided it needed a break. But despite all the challenges, I pushed through, and we achieved something beautiful.

I wanted to push my limits with this project—aiming to sculpt life-sized food items for each season’s platter, adding layers of detail and depth without the time to properly experiment or test my designs. For spring, this ambition worked well. But by summer, I was so caught up in the making process that I overlooked the abundance of seasonal produce I was replicating. The pieces were hollow, complex, and heavy—and this complexity increased the risk that things might go wrong in the kiln. I hoped fervently that the kiln gods would be on my side!

My mind swirled with questions: Had I remembered to poke vent holes in every food piece? Had I accidentally covered any holes during assembly? I was firing to a high temperature, which makes clay more vulnerable before it gains strength, and I could feel my heart racing as I imagined every possible outcome.

To add to the pressure, with my own kiln going on strike right before the project began! I scrambled to find a kiln I could hire locally, as I dreaded the thought of transporting these fragile, intricate pieces. It turned out that my kiln wasn’t the only one in need of attention—finding an available kiln was not easy! After some anxious weeks of searching, I found a place on August 13th. The Ceramics Co-op came to my rescue, and I was able to fire the platters in their kiln. On August 31st, the day before the celebration, I finally collected the three platters. It was emotional. i had done it.

The result? Three hand-sculpted, seasonal food platters that celebrated the bounty of the Kitchen Garden, each one a unique representation of the foods found in the kitchen garden throuth out the year.

The Art of Sculpting Nature

To create these, I went on a shopping spree (not my favourite activity!) for all the fruits, vegetables, and flowers I could find. These became my still-life subjects, and I started sculpting each piece by hand—no molds, just pure hand-building techniques. I pinched, carved, pressed, rolled, cut, and smoothed the clay until each piece looked lifelike.

The process was incredibly therapeutic. I lost all sense of time as I worked and noticed details in food that I’d never paid attention to before: the intricate patterns, the subtle color variations, and the beautiful textures that leaves create. Capturing these details in clay felt like I was immortalizing the beauty of nature.

Take a Closer look!

I wanted the colors to look as natural as possible, and since time was tight, I didn’t have a chance to experiment with glaze tests. Instead, I used Nano stains and underglazes by Scava for a stable, reliable color finish. It reminded me a lot of watercolor painting—layering, blending, and washing on a three-dimensional surface. Although I loved the matte finish, I knew it wouldn't be durable, so the final step was applying a glaze.

Reflections on Working with Nature’s Rhythm

This experience reinforced something I’ve learned repeatedly as an artist working with clay: nature has its own timeline, and there’s a beauty in respecting it. When I tried to rush, things didn’t go as planned, but when I allowed myself to work with the natural process, the results were worth every bit of effort.

This experience reinforced something I’ve learned repeatedly as an artist: nature has its own timeline, and there’s a beauty in respecting it. When I tried to rush, things didn’t go as planned, but when I allowed myself to work with the natural process, the results were worth every bit of effort.

What has been your experience with working alongside nature? Have you ever found unexpected beauty in something simple, like a leaf pattern or the shape of a vegetable, or been taught a valuable lesson? I'd love to hear your stories—please share in the comments!

This project reminded me how fulfilling it is to work with both clay and paint, connecting my passion for sculpting with painting techniques. It’s wonderful to see these creations come to life and to know that they will stand the test of time.

All Done and Ready for the Table

Spring