Finding a way

Sarah Walton found herself studying Ceramics after setting out to be a painter. In this month’s post she describes the influences that changed her direction, while leaving all the sensibilities of a fine artist evident in her work. The video perfectly encapsulates the quiet reflectiveness and love of landscape that give her birdbaths and larger sculptural pieces their stillness and poise.

I had an art teacher at school, a Pole (who had survived WW2 and a Russian
gulag) who said to me “Go and look at great Art.” In my teens I prowled the London museums and became familiar with a lot of European painting. After that I was a nurse for 5 1/2 years and looked at three dimensional work in the British Museum nearby. It was seeing ceramics and sculpture in the Musee Guimet in Paris that got me onto the studio pottery course at Harrow .
By the end of the four years studying Painting I had lost my way (though I certainly couldn’t admit that to myself at the time.) Losing one of my brothers at the same time had a part in making me a nurse. Now in retrospect I think that touching people as a nurse led me to 3 dimensional work. When I then attended the Harrow Studio Pottery course I think I imagined that since I’d failed at Fine Art I might nevertheless succeed at making pots.
A big factor in moving up in scale, that is my progression to birdbaths, has been making things that are illuminated by the play of natural light (the outdoors.) Landscape was what I had walked, drawn and painted from childhood till my mid 20’s . Landscape painters and landscape photography have been what I’ve looked at a lot.
In recent years my birdbaths have bought me time to explore abstract sculptural work. I find the prospect, at my age, of finding new gallery contacts somewhat daunting. This year, after some years of being too frightened to go, I went as a visitor to the London Art Fair called  ‘Frieze.’ Coverage in my weekly paper had got me sufficiently interested in something specific to want to go. I searched out that, found it very interesting, and then found the stands of 3 galleries I knew of but had been too scared to visit. That was very interesting too. I thought I wouldn’t bother with the rest of the razzmatazz. The following day my legs ached from having walked on hard pavements all day.

Sarah Walton

Sarah Walton from OmVed Gardens on Vimeo.

In Search of Colour

In today’s post, Alison Ellen talks about where she finds inspiration for her subtle colour combinations, drawing on her visual environment to create the palettes which make her garments so distinctive.

I’m always looking around me at colours in landscape and garden for ideas; for combinations and textures that can be translated into knitted garments. Dyeing my own yarn is like painting, as I can mix and achieve the colours I want, building up a range of closely related variations, for example a palette of greens as represented by all the different shades of green in plants from grey-green through bright fresh grass to softer olive greens.

I’m also looking at local building materials as a source of colour ideas, with my eyes opened by family members involved in geology, building conservation and vernacular architecture.

In the area of Bury Court and Farnham, the local bricks are a soft warm orangey terracotta, often mixed with Chalk stone (clunch) in chalky whites and greys; a lovely combination. I used to work with printed textiles and natural dyes, and am aware that iron can make beautiful dyes on cloth, or in clay and brick, amazing stains in rust or dark metallic blacks.


With all this in mind, I’m patterning yarn by dyeing in a range of clay, chalk and mud colours with strong rusts, and tie-dyed flecks and patches, with colours bleeding into each other. These will be lovely to knit into textured patterns.

Orange & Grey , detail

Please follow us on Twitter @craftpraktis and call back if you’d like to see how we progress towards our exhibition, and share with your friends.


Towards an Idea

In this first of a series of posts, Julie Ayton relates her own introduction to making,  a step that led eventually to her career as a potter. 


This year’s ‘praktis/ exhibition at Bury Court near Farnham in Surrey presents a group of makers who have spent years developing their creative voices to produce distinctive work that is both highly skilled and deeply personal.

Behind every artist and maker, whatever their discipline, is a story of discovery.  Like many others, my own interest in clay was born when, as a child, I was bundled along to an art activity session for children on Saturday mornings. My first creation was a wonderful galloping horse, its main and tail flying, sinewy legs outstretched. I was in another world.

I don’t know what happened to it, but that really doesn’t matter. The making of it was the thing.

With the clarity of hindsight, I can see that the reality was a rather stodgy sausage-like creature, with an unruly clutch of straw stuck up its bottom. But what also remains true is that the act of creating something takes us, in our heads, to a different place. My mother, like every parent, saw the first part of the reality, and understood the second.

We humans have evolved to create things with our hands, and our brains are hardwired to spark and respond to that instinct – to be curious about what materials can do, to experiment, to interpret the world, to express ourselves. And, over time, to learn to use our hands as readily as our imaginations.

Those of us who have made a life of making things are following that impulse to create with our hands the vision in our heads, and to do it better and better. It is challenging, sometimes frustrating, but deeply satisfying when things go well. As a maker, to see someone ‘get’ your work is a wonderful confirmation of a shared recognition, of having hit the right note.

The getting of knowledge is a lifelong process. And gradually, as we exhibit more widely and connect with those who appreciate what we do, our enquiry and thinking becomes still more sharply focused. Feedback from our audiences informs our ideas, sometimes confirming our impulses, sometimes challenging them.

So we never stop learning, and as makers we never stop responding to the fascination of what can be done with materials and processes, whether to meet a practical need – a favoured cup to drink from – or to create a work that defies practical purpose but simply delights us with its human ingenuity, mastery of process, and its beauty.


The exhibitors showing at ‘praktis/  at Bury Court Barn this October are makers who have established themselves through years of refining their practice, and are still looking for ways to move forward creatively. At this year’s exhibition, in a wonderfully sympathetic setting, we will be showing fresh and inspirational work across disciplines prompted by a strong sense of enquiry, with illustrated talks and demonstrations and an invitation to talk to pre-eminent makers about their craft.

Between now and October, through this blog, you are invited to share some of their insights, find out what inspires them and see examples of polished skills, the trial and error that leads to successes and occasional failures, and above all the thinking that goes into the work of 21st century makers.

Please follow us on Twitter @craftpraktis and call back if you’d like to see how we progress towards our exhibition, and share with your friends.