Why I began working with clay

I have always been drawn to traditional crafts.

Before working with clay, I spent many years writing software. I came to see it as a kind of craft in its own right — something that requires care, attentiveness, and a sensitivity to structure and process. But the things it produces are intangible. Code can be elegant or clumsy, resilient or fragile, yet it can never be held. It leaves no weight in the hand.

Over time, this absence began to feel noticeable.

Working on large software projects, I often found myself wanting something physical to show for the effort — something shaped slowly through repeated attention, something that carried traces of use and making. This feeling stayed with me for a long time.

I tried other crafts. I worked briefly with leather, making small functional objects, but the connection didn’t last.

It was only later, at a craft fair, that I encountered wheel‑thrown pottery for the first time. Wanting to understand the process more deeply, I enrolled in a short throwing course at Cardiff Pottery Workshops.

I remember returning home after the first session feeling unusually tired and focused, in a way that was both unfamiliar and satisfying. The act of throwing demanded a kind of concentration that left little room for distraction. Before long, it was clear that this was something I wanted to continue.

Over time, what began as curiosity slowly became a sustained part of my life.

In some ways, it was the intangible nature of my previous work that led me to clay. Pottery offered a counterbalance — a way of working where material resistance, repetition, and small variations mattered, and where the outcome could be held, used, and lived with.