Why I Keep Coming Back to Ranunculus

Every time I begin a new piece, I think I already know its form well. Then I look closely at a living flower and find that it is entirely different. A little more open. A little more airy. With a barely perceptible curve to the petals that could never be invented — only observed. That is precisely why I love making flowers from cold porcelain. The material allows for very delicate work. It sets in open air, without firing or specialist equipment, and the fine petals hold their shape for years.

I have no wish to make a perfect replica of a living plant. What matters more to me is conveying the feeling of a flower — its character, the light that passes through its petals, the quietness it brings to the space around it. Every ranunculus I make by hand comes into being slowly. First I spend a long time studying a living flower, looking at the structure of each petal, noticing what ordinarily slips past the eye. Only then does the work of building the piece begin.

I like to think that pieces like these inhabit a home differently from ordinary decorative objects. They ask nothing of you, they do not fade after a few days, and they can remain part of a home for years. That is why so many people choose cold porcelain flowers for their interiors when they want to bring a sense of warmth and calm to a space.

Over time I have come to understand something. Cold porcelain is not simply a material to me. It is a way of holding a moment still — of preserving the beauty of a flower on the very day it was most itself.

Several new ranunculus pieces have appeared in the studio lately. They differ from one another in small ways, as flowers in a garden do. That is what I love most about the work. Even making the same flower dozens of times, it is impossible to end up with two pieces that are truly alike.

Nature's beauty always leaves room for the unexpected. And that, above all, is why I love it.