Clay Gathering

Journal Entry clay gathering 6th august

Today I visited three different clay gathering spots along the Yorkshire coast, armed with little more than buckets, a trowel and plenty of curiosity.

My first stop was Cayton Bay. After a short walk down the hill, and an essential coffee along the way, I stepped onto the beach beneath the striking red cliffs. Almost immediately I noticed a small stream trickling down through the cliff face, where the water had exposed a rich pocket of red clay. It felt like the landscape had quietly revealed one of its secrets.

I couldn't resist making a quick pinch pot before filling my bucket, my hands quickly stained the same earthy red as the cliff itself. Alongside the clay, I gathered a bag of washed-up seaweed and a small container of beach sand. Three simple materials, each carrying the geology and ecology of this place.

Standing there, it struck me how differently I now experience the coastline. I no longer see just cliffs, sand and sea. I see potential glaze ingredients, clay bodies and stories held within the landscape. Every stream exposes a new material, every tide leaves behind another possibility. The Yorkshire coast is slowly becoming not just somewhere I visit, but the palette from which I make.

This project is teaching me that making begins long before I step into the studio. It begins here, with muddy hands, full buckets and the quiet excitement of wondering what the kiln might reveal.

My next stop was Speeton Beach. It was my first visit, and I felt that familiar mix of excitement and uncertainty, never quite knowing what the landscape might reveal. The journey itself felt like a small adventure. I wandered through a field of inquisitive but friendly cows before stopping for a sandwich on a bench overlooking the dramatic cliffs and the vast North Sea stretching to the horizon. From there, the path joined the Cleveland Way before descending steeply towards the beach. Questionable wooden steps gave way to a small patch of woodland, then an even steeper scramble down weathered foot holes etched into the cliff by countless walkers before me.

Even before reaching the shore, I had spotted what I hoped was a band of black clay exposed in the cliffs. Trying not to get too excited, I hurried down, and as soon as I stepped onto the beach my trainers sank gently into the dark mud beneath my feet. To my delight, it was exactly what I'd hoped for. Another quick pinch pot marked the moment before I began filling my second bucket of the day. Further along the beach, a small stream had exposed even more of the black clay, while nearby a striking seam of deep red, iron-rich mudstone cut through the cliff face. I collected a few handfuls of this too, along with pieces of the brilliant white chalk scattered across the beach below the towering white cliffs. Before beginning the long climb back to the top, I filled one last container with beach sand. By the time I reached the cliff top again, every bucket felt heavier, not just with clay and stone, but with the possibility of what each material might become once it reached the studio.

My final stop of the day was Hunmanby Gap. After the adventure of Speeton, the journey felt wonderfully gentle, a quiet walk down the road followed by a winding path to the beach. Waiting below were towering cliffs of rich red clay, similar in colour to those at Cayton Bay. As I wandered along the shoreline, I could see the darker Speeton cliffs stretching into the distance, where the black clay disappeared in and out of view with the folds of the coastline.

Standing there, I made a plan. Once I've tested the Speeton black clay, I think the easiest way to gather larger quantities will be to walk along the beach from Hunmanby Gap, carefully timed with the tides, rather than making the steep descent at the Speeton end. It feels like a route I'll return to many times.

Now the real work begins. The buckets of clay, seaweed, sand, chalk and iron-rich earth will be washed, processed and transformed into clay bodies, slips, test tiles and raw glaze ingredients. Today was about gathering. The next stage is about listening to what these materials have to say. Somewhere within them are the colours, textures and surfaces of this coastline, waiting to emerge from the kiln.