HERBARIUM

Why do I call the studio my Herbarium?

The word Herbarium sits at the heart of my studio practice. It's the name of my gallery and also the essence of what I do.

Herbarium: noun
“A collection of preserved plant specimens—usually pressed, dried, and mounted—used for scientific study, reference, or artistic documentation. Traditionally housed in museums, botanical gardens, or universities, a herbarium captures the form and structure of plants at a moment in time.”

In my work, flowers, foliage, and garden forms are preserved not on paper, but in clay and porcelain. By pressing seasonal blooms and leaves directly into the surface of clay, I capture their structure, texture, and fleeting beauty at a specific moment in time—before they fade, wilt, or return to the soil. I also create three dimensional recreations of flowers, fruits and foliage in porcelain, attaching them to both functional and sculptural forms.

This process is both an act of preservation and of translation. Clay records every vein, curve, and irregular edge, allowing the quiet complexity of plants to live on in functional and sculptural form. Through firing, these impressions become permanent—transforming something ephemeral into an object intended for daily use, ritual, and enjoyment.

A keen gardener and cook, I was naturally drawn to organic subjects initially fruits and vegetables, and later flowering plants. My longstanding interest in the historical representation of flora in European ceramics informs my approach, guiding a more contemporary, natural interpretation of botanical form. Rambling vines and blossoms have become a signature of my work, designed to complement food and enhance both table and home.

Alongside pressing fresh plant material, I also cast elements from my vegetable garden—leaves, stems, and produce into plaster. These casts become reusable moulds for slip-cast porcelain tableware and sculptural pieces, allowing the shapes and textures of my garden to be carried across multiple pieces. In this way, the garden is not just inspiration, but a collaborator in the making process.

Like a traditional herbarium, my work documents nature as it exists in a particular place and season. But rather than being stored away, these botanical records are brought into everyday life used, touched, shared, and lived with. They are objects that hold memory, mark time, and invite a closer relationship with the natural world through the rituals of eating, gathering, and home.