Bari Ziperstein‘s is an artist who is constantly stretching the possibilities of her material. Clay is versatile to begin with, and Ziperstein embraces that. “The transformation of clay and testing its technical limits informs so much of my practice,” says Ziperstein, whose large scale, colour rich vessels stand out in any room. Just look at this acid yellow cubist planter and this giant Yves Klein vase. And what of all the whimsical, wacky vessels below? Her work is bold, irreverent and highly original. “… it’s about creating a new ceramic silhouette with unexpected processes that excites me.”

On Saturday, we sat outside in the sunshine and marvelled at the majesty of Spring. It’s neither beautiful nor bountiful out there, but with every snowdrop, every crocus, every chirp of a bird, comes a tiny sense of triumph. We survived another Winter. And beneath the leaves and dirt and debris, lies the promise of perennials. Of bare feet. Of drinks at dusk. Of bicycle bells. Of possibility. This winter has flown by. Was it the mild January? Or was it that we sledded through February? We did so little, and yet the days trotted on. And maybe that’s just it. Keep it simple. Relish in the small stuff. A beautiful Winter sky. A fresh fall of snow. And Winter finds a way of turning into Spring.

Anna Varendorff‘s metal vases look like jewellery, delicate bracelets and earrings on which to perch a flower. I particularly love the ones where the flower completes the circle; those I can picture as much on a table as on a woman’s wrist. There are as many possibilities as there are flowers in the world, but this lisianthus arrangement may be my favourite. I also love the exquisite simplicity of a sprig of green. And one can never tire of the classic tulip.

Some people’s chosen métier begins to constellate as early as five or six years of age. In this poignant short film, a ten-year-old boy in rural South West France, shares his dream of becoming of professional DJ. “In the countryside you can hear almost nothing,” says Benoit. “You feel free….. In my room, I hear nothing but rain and wind.” If he doesn’t make it as a DJ, Benoit says he’ll be a horticulturalist like his Mum. “Or, um … I’ll figure it out later.” The young boy made me think of a documentary I’d watched last week on Instagram’s Ian Spalter, and how his urge to problem solve traced back to childhood. Every year, on his birthday, Spalter’s parents gave him a blank bound book to fill with drawings and ideas. “Ian gravitated towards anything technological,” said his dad. “Whatever technical issues anyone had in the building we lived in, they would come to the door and ask, ‘is Ian home?'” The documentary is one of several brilliant profiles on the Netflix series, Abstract. I’ve only watched a few –– Platon, Ilse Crawford and Tinker Hatfield –– and what I enjoy most is seeing how the dots connect, seeing how early experiences weave their way into the creative process, and into who and what a person becomes. The path is rarely linear, but if you trace it, there always is one.