7 - 31 August 2025: When The Earth Turns Blue by Lucía Ocejo

How did you come to the name and idea around this collection of work? 

The name came from a conversation I had with Steve Sheridan a master potter with whom I apprenticed with in the Australian Blue Mountains. His work is deeply inspired by Chinese ceramics, especially the blue and green celadons of the Song Dynasty. These glazes, he explained, are naturally derived from the earth by firing iron-rich natural materials in a way that produces those jade-like colours.

How did you end up working with clay and what drew you to it as a material?

Working with clay was a wild card for me, it was never something I particularly aspired to when I was younger. I originally applied to study painting in Boston, but that quickly shifted into a sculpture degree with a focus on metals. During university, I kept hearing my peers praise the ceramics department’s throwing instructor, Ben Ryterband, which got me to sign up to his class. His passion and charisma for wheel-thrown ceramics was immediately contagious and ten years later, I get to call myself a potter.

You have built your own gas kiln outside of London, what were the biggest challenges and learning curves you came across? How did you go about deciding on the design? 

I decided to build a gas kiln myself because it was the most cost-effective option compared to buying one commercially. It was also a challenge I had been looking forward to. I’m fascinated by understanding how things work, and that curiosity extends to kiln building. The biggest challenge was constructing the arched roof, especially since I hand cut all the bricks myself instead of buying pre-cut ones - an attempt to save money that might have been my biggest mistake! The design was a compilation of my experience working with different kilns, electric, gas, and wood, and the various pottery experience under my belt from my early days in Boston, my time running and repairing the kilns at Crown Works Pottery,  a yearlong work placement soda firing with Lisa Hammond, and most recently, my apprenticeship with Steve, who generously offered a lot of insight and advice.

For those who don’t know, what is the biggest difference between gas and electric fired pottery?

A gas kiln allows for a reduction atmosphere by restricting the oxygen available during firing. When oxygen is limited, the flame draws it from the materials in the clay and glaze, especially iron. Typically, iron enters the kiln as ferric oxide (Fe₂O₃), but under reduction, it converts to ferrous oxide (FeO), causing a shift in colour, from tones like yellow or brown to cooler hues such as blue or green. These subtle changes are especially visible in natural materials like ash, stone, or clay. I’ve always felt that reduction firing brings a depth and complexity to glazes that’s hard to achieve in an electric kiln.

What is your favourite part of your process?

There’s no better feeling than opening a kiln to discover a gem. I think most potters would agree that the margin for error is huge, and it’s never truly a done deal until the finished pot is in your hands. As for the process, I really enjoy throwing - working with the movement and rhythm of the wheel brings a lot of energy to the piece.

Tell us a little about your interest in glaze chemistry; and the things you love about it? Or find the most challenging.

Not sure exactly when the glaze chemistry bug bit me, but once the vastness of how glazes work hit me, it became an obsession. When I teach, I always like to tell my students that the history of ceramics tells an epic tale of humanity. It’s a story of people, place, technology, and innovation. This is especially reflected in how glazes developed over time: from the earliest green ash glazes in the BCE era, to the jade-green celadons of 11th-century China, to the red shinos of 16th-century Japan, glazes capture the intersection of science and culture. Each innovation reflects the technology of its time, the landscape of its place and the ingenuity of potters who transform lumps of clay and rocks into expressions of daily use.

How has living in London influenced your path to making pottery? Was it something you ever imagined you’d end up doing? And since starting here, what or who has been the biggest influence on your work?

I think London made me a potter. Before arriving in the UK, I had very little awareness of pottery beyond a fine arts approach to thrown ceramics. It wasn’t until I moved here in 2018 that I discovered the UK’s rich history with ceramics, especially the studio pottery movement led by Bernard Leach in the early 20th century. In many ways, I was re-educated on the artistic merit of craft and the immense skill and mastery of materials involved.

You are soon continuing your adventure back in your home town, Mexico City; do you expect your pots to find a new expression of place, maybe in shape and form or material? Kind of like the ceramics in your exhibition, displaying new “geological readings and expressions of place”.

I think inevitably moving back home will trigger new explorations of material - I’m already quite keen to develop glazes using corn. Beyond the new range of materials, Mexico has its own ceramic history which I’m really looking forward to learning from.

And finally a few of my favourite questions to end things off; who is a maker whose work you love and admire that we should know about but might not?

I remember seeing my first ever Richard Batterham jar at a friend’s kitchen—and the world stopped. This was about five years ago, right before he passed away. The pot seemed so thoughtfully made: quiet and resolute, holding the beauty of use without asking for praise. A particular quality of Batterham’s work that I find myself drawn to is the delicate way he allows the energy of the wheel or mark-making to come through in the piece. In this jar, I was able to trace the four subtle vertical ridges that he created by running his fingers up the inside of the pot. This gentle embossing was beautifully complemented by the glaze which pools and breaks as it navigates the change in surface. 

What is the most recent ceramic vessel or piece of pottery you bought for yourself, from where and by whom?

At home, I have a small collection of pots that I’ve been slowly curating over the years. The latest addition is a paddled bottle by Mark Griffiths, which is decorated with a rich iron slip that produces a soft blue hue beneath a Jun-like glaze. I find the wax-resist brush marks in Mark’s work particularly beautiful.