I am a homebody. Always was, always will be. My home is my sacred sanctuary and if I don’t have to leave it, I am more than happy to remain there, bad weather and cancelled plans are always welcome.

Living in a country like New Zealand with its breathtaking sceneries around every corner, this seems like criminal neglect, and my garden and neighbourhood are doing a lot of the heavy lifting for my nature experiences. Thankfully, Mother Nature doesn’t need her children to go far to partake in her beauty. With a good eye for detail, I am happy to observe the microcosmos within the larger world.

Still, I often fall into the trap of looking at pretty pictures instead of venturing out for a firsthand encounter. My Instagram feed is tightly curated around nature, art and all kinds of crafts – just like my home itself.

On one of my daily scrolls I noticed a post from a textile artist picturing a nest, crafted from yarns, wool and little bits of jewellery.

The image resonated with my sheltered, content life – my magpie hobbies of collecting pre-loved jewellery, filling my pockets with pebbles, sticks and leaves whenever I do venture outside, and hoarding books and images.

With my own creativity sparked, I pondered for a while how I could translate the woollen nest into clay and porcelain.

For my first try, I used black clay for the nest, and porcelain for some added bits. The problem became clear once the piece started to dry. Pottery is handled quite a bit on its journey from a lump of clay to the finished piece and asking the volunteers who kindly man the kilns at our club, to manage such a fragile construct was too much. As an afterthought, I crafted a branch for the nest to sit on, providing some stability and ease of handling. But I overcompensated, and when I tried to adjust it, the whole thing broke apart – as did my heart, for a moment.

Ah well. As long as clay isn’t fired, a potter can try and try again. I might have lost a piece but still learned something!

After stepping away for a few weeks, a three-in-the-morning epiphany nudged the project back into motion.

I threw a stand on which the nest would sit like a cake platter. I loved this idea instantly, because it elevates the nest not only from the ground but into something precious.

This time I used a different, terracotta-like clay for the nest. As with the black clay, it provides contrast in colour and texture to the smooth, white, translucent porcelain. I pinched some of the soft, cool clay from the larger block and rolled lots and lots of thin, uneven ‘twigs’, laying them out on a board. Then I marked the still pliable strings with a structured tool to emulate a natural texture. Once they dried enough to hold structure, I turned a small bisqued bowl upside-down and wove the nest around it. To create a magpie’s loot, I crafted leaves, buttons, feathers, a bird skull and a compass (to always find my true North) by pressing smooth porcelain into small moulds.

I also made three eggs and placed them into the hollow middle. Having never procreated, I am the only inhabitant of my own nest. I’ve regretted my solitude, because I appreciate the rich potential of my existence, and I trust that, for a long time yet, will not run out of unhatched ideas.

While writing this, I still haven’t figured out the next step of how to glaze and decorate the piece. I’d like to use lustre and gild some of the precious porcelain bits, but we don’t have a low-fire option which this would require. Maye a three-am-epiphany will help me out yet again.

Update! My Nest came out of the bisque kiln (mostly) intact, and I glazed the stand with a Vintage Gold glaze, the nest itself with an Iron wash and the porcelain pieces with glossy white glaze.

Quite happy with the result, and even happier after decorating the Nest further with bits and pieces I found in my own nooks and crannies. Here are some pics with the final results:

Still will attempt another one.