My hands haven’t touched clay in weeks. And then this morning, I felt the urge to make something. My Mum sends me images of ceramics quite often, and these blue and white tiles reminded me how much I miss playing with this simple palette. I then happened upon this striking sculpture (below) by British artist, Gordon Baldwin and these matte white vases embossed with sea creatures by Swedish artist, Anna Lisa Thompson. Who knows how all this will translate when I throw some clay around later. Very often, it’s the feeling an image conjures, that’s what comes out in the clay.

Bill Traylor was born into slavery, and spent most of his life working on a plantation in Lowndes County, Alabama. In his later years, Trayor moved to Montgomery and it was there that he started to draw. He produced nearly 1,500 pieces of art –– many sketched on scraps of cardboard –– all depicting rural and urban life. In this moving film, Cara Zimmerman, a Christie’s specialist in outsider art, talks about a Bill Traylor painting ––  Man on White, Woman on Red –– that director, Steven Spielberg gave actress, Alice Walker when they completed The Colour Purple. When Zimmerman took the painting out of its frame, she discovered another painting of a man and a dog on the reverse. “The work is unique in this respect,” she says, “and presents us with another intriguing story.” The name of the painting is now, Man on White, Woman on Red/Man with Black Dog. Traylor’s work offers a perspective into life in the South in the early 1900s, no longer the perspective of an outsider, but rather a glimpse into the mind and life of a self taught, modern artist. “We’re at a point in time, art historically and otherwise, where we’re really starting to evaluate what the dominant narratives should be in our society, and in our history,” says Zimmerman.

Under the stewardship of Edward Enninful, August Vogue is featuring 14 covers that celebrate nature, created by British artists from Nick Knight to Nadine Ijewere to Lubaina Himid. The theme is “reset”, poignant and timely, as we reflect on the world around us, and the experiences of the last four months. “The familiar patterns of our lives have been broken, the future is unknowable, and all of us are searching for signs and wonders, for reassurance, for hope, for things that make sense to us when everything seems desolate,” writes British writer and naturalist Helen Macdonald. “We are beginning to view nature through new eyes.” David Hockney’s painting, with its green meadows and honey coloured wheat fields, is a beautiful expression of the British country side. “It is a place rich with myth and reflection, and has long been seen as a repository of national identity.” Craig McDean’s image from the Lake District is so warm and mellow, and Mert Alas’ majestic red sunset speaks of hope and possibility. “Its maintenance enjoyed renewed focus as human activity slowed down in late spring, from the indelible images of clear canals in Venice to an absence of smog over Los Angeles,” said Enninful. “As the world rushes to find its feet again, we all need to be more mindful of the toll our previous pace of living took on nature.”

One of the things that I love about Louise Nevelson, are the outfits, not to mention the lashes, that the artist wore to work. Nevelson was well into her forties before she sold a sculpture to anyone other than another artist, and today, her huge, monolithic wooden structures are central to America’s art history. She was ballsy, fastidious and eccentric. She smoked Tiparillo cigars. And yes, she wore lashes made of mink. “I have never liked the middle ground –– the most boring place in the world.”

I came across the beautifully anthropomorphic ceramics of Jean Derval today, and immediately I thought about Picasso. Constant comparisons to another artist can’t be easy, especially an artistic titan like Picasso. The two men worked together –– Derval trained with Picasso in the late 40s at the famous Madoura workshop –– and Picasso’s influence is evident. In 1951, Derval founded his own studio, Le Portail and gradually moved from domestic pottery to sculpture. The truth is, Picasso’s influence runs through most artists because his work spanned so many years (he was wildly prolific) and because he explored so many genres and styles over his 80-year career. What an artist like Derval does with that influence, and all the many other things that inform his process, is what makes the work unique. As Mark Twain said, “There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of coloured glass that have been in use through all the ages.” As original as Picasso was, he also drew from the many inspirations around him. No doubt, that inspiration included the work of the many artists he inspired.

It’s a joy of mine to gather around a table with friends and family and eat and drink and make a big old mess. I like everyone to linger at the table long after we’ve put our forks down, with half eaten eggplants and fish bones before us. I am never quick to clear plates, because I find this stage of a meal thoroughly satisfying. Swiss artist, Daniel Spoerri, has elevated the remains of a meal to a high art. His photographs, which include the dirty dinner plates, the cigarette butts and the leftover bread rolls are beautifully messy, textured and real. And who doesn’t love dunking bread in olive oil long after the pavlova has been served?

If you have a moment, please take a look at this delightful embroidery. From galactic patterns and Sicilian lemons to birds, squirrels and daisies, ‘Juno’s’ work is detailed, delicate and original. She embellishes linens, clothes and accessories, all with a careful eye and sweet imagination. Just imagine this swallow flying across your napkins –– what a delight that would be.

I use very few glazes, mostly because glazing is a science, and I’m not fastidious enough for it. I do marvel over the magic of it though, what happens when a vitreous substance hits the intense heat of a kiln. There’s always an element of surprise. I came across the work of Melissa Weiss today, an American potter who uses a variety of celadons and ash glazes on her pieces. I love her designs, and the crudeness with which she glazes. Drips and chips add charm to her work. Have a look at her chunky mugs and highly patterned plates –– I think you’ll like them, too.

It’s a rite of passage to watch your youngest child ride away from you on two wobbly wheels. None of us expected Luma to take off on her first attempt. She flew. And fell. And flew. And fell. And flew. “It’s a miracle,” exclaimed Antimo, as he ran along side her. Given that both he and Iole spent a whole sweaty month learning to cycle at bike camp, it really is a miracle that Luma took off the way she did. “She was ready,” said Jason, who had spent a few days in our drive working on her balance. That’s the thing about being the youngest. You get to be ready. You get to do things at your own pace with none of the pressure that parents so often stress on their firsts (read, themselves). Luma will be six this summer, and the only reason why she’s even riding a bike is because she insisted upon learning to. She also has four full-time cheerleaders at her side. And that’s got to put a little wind in one’s sails.