I’ve never stopped loving the moon jar form. The piece at the British Museum that Bernard Leach brought back from Seoul is one of the few originals in existence. Leach and his contemporaries in Japan admired it for its lack of self-consciousness, and the beauty of its slight imperfections. I was also struck by these qualities, as well as its serenity and simplicity. I like the way a moon jar can become a canvas for concepts and surfaces. I make all but my smallest moon jars in halves, throwing two bowls then joining them together.
I like to let nature make its mark on my works. As part of my Earth to Earth project, I left a raw, unfired moon jar made from local clay at the top of Carn Treliwyd. It weathered the elements over 10 days, with a time-lapse camera capturing the clay returning to the earth. For another of my works, Veneration Bells (2013), I made large white bells from porcelain and hung them in sea caves on the coast. I filmed them at different tides, times and sea states, to create a film to be projected alongside the bells. For several years now, I’ve been placing tiny votive jars out in nature – I see these offerings as a quiet homage to the places that inspire me. This idea came from re-reading literature I studied at university; my degree was in archaeology and anthropology.
Making big pots is very physical work. Due to their size, they can only be fired one at a time in the kiln, and they have to be thrown in several stages. But the clay preparation and moving them are the biggest challenges. I have to use an electric forklift to hoist them around. The risk is high, but it’s worth it.