From Stone to Clay: The Art of Letting Go

Recently, I’ve been making sculptural lamps out of rocks. No precision carving, no rigid blueprints—just a raw connection between nature and function. I pick the stone, stare at it for ten minutes, and then figure out how I could make a lamp out of them. It is an intuitive process, more of a dialogue than a construction. But recently, I found myself drawn to something else, alongside the rocks: clay.

So, feeling I needed a little guidance, I called up Honeybourne Pottery and long story-short they ended up connecting me with Dave Short—a great chap with a kiln, a deep love (and skill) for clay, and, as it turns out, a finalist on The Great British Pottery Throw Down, 2024. A local legend!

A few sessions in and I am really enjoying the process. I’ve already made a couple of lamps that are ready to be fired, and now I’m onto vases. And let me tell you—clay is a whole different beast.

From Chisels to Bare Hands

Unlike stone, which resists and demands tools, clay yields. It moves. It flows. It takes on the shape of my hands, responding in real time instead of fighting back. No chisels, masks and eye googles here—just fingers, palms, and gravity. No plan, just the clay doing what it wants to do. And bonus? It’s much lighter than stone (which my back definitely appreciates) and I do it in the warmth of the kitchen that is a nice contrast from the art studio that turns into the tundra in the winter. 

Creativity Without a Plan

There’s something about this way of working that just clicks. No overthinking, no measuring, no forcing an outcome. Turns out, there’s actually a name for this approach—automatism. The Surrealists used it in painting and writing, letting the subconscious take the lead. There’s also a Zen concept called mushin—a mind free of preconceptions, open to whatever unfolds.

For me, making these clay lamps feels like stepping into that space. Sometimes the clay collapses, sometimes it stretches into something unexpected. And when that happens? No frustration. No “wrong” turns. Because there was never a set path to begin with. In my true style, they are turning out quite surreal, but I am going with it.

The Magic (and Chaos) of the Kiln

If making the lamps is about surrender, glazing and firing them takes it to another level.

With stone, I always had a decent idea of how the final piece would look. But with clay? The moment it goes into the kiln, it’s out of my hands—literally and figuratively.

Glazes have a mind of their own. Colours shift. Textures change. The fire leaves its own unpredictable marks. So, when I open the kiln, it’s going to be a reveal—maybe close to expectation, sometimes a lesson in imperfection, but always something new. I will let you know how the glazes go. For now, here are a few forms that are ready for firing and glazing.

First attempt at a, let's say, surrealist vase (unfired)..

And another one (unfired).

An attempt at a pair (unfired).

The Beauty of Uncertainty

This whole process—clay, fire, unpredictability—again, it reminds me that creativity isn’t about control. It’s about responding. It’s about collaborating with the material instead of dominating it. Whether it’s stone or clay, chisels or bare hands, the rhythm remains the same: start, let go, and see what happens.

And honestly? Maybe that’s not just a way of making art. Maybe it’s a way of living, too. I know it’s something I’ll be bringing more into my psychotherapy work. I think everyone can learn from an opportunity that sometimes, the best things happen when you stop trying to control the outcome—and just let the process unfold. In fact, as I have found at many times in my life, if I allow the flow of creativity, the opposite of anxiety it balances those survival parts that at times attempt to chair the board. Fingers crossed the sculptures will survive the kiln and I will update when they are glazed!