It’s a human instinct to seek out experiences that tend to our need for solitude while embracing our pack animal urges. Activities that are both solitary and communal are of great appeal to me. Matinee movies are one of my greatest indulgences. It’s also why I love lane swimming. It’s communal, in that we’re sharing the same pool, but under water, you hear nothing but your own breath. My pottery studio is not so dissimilar. I’m aware of the people around me –– the sound of wheels turning, tools scraping, brushes mixing –– but I am also able to find great focus. Long car journeys where no one feels the need to talk, speak to the level of closeness and comfort of the people travelling in the vehicle. Same goes for train rides. And flights. Communal worship –– churches, synagogues, mosques –– brings people together and provides moments for private repose and reflection. I don’t often go to church, but when I do, it is this aspect of the experience that I most embrace. In these times of social distancing, many such opportunities –– communal swims and communal prayer –– have been limited, and that’s hard for people. I wonder how long it will be before two strangers sit side by side at the cinema sharing in the experience of being alone.

French artist, Anne Breton‘s work has such humour imbued into it. Look at these little toucan mugs, and vases shaped liked puffs of smoke! This tiny teapot is the sweetest thing I’ve seen since Luma got a bob last week, and these delicate tiles would be so special on a wall or as a coaster. I love discovering artists such as Breton, and a way of seeing that is so charming, weird and unique.

Simon Bodmer-Turner’s alabaster white sculptures look like mammal bones brought in by the tide. I find them breathtaking. His collection of ceramic vases influenced by ancient ceremonial vessels and mid-century architecture and design are just as bold. The Bridge Handled vessel is inspired by Pre-Columbian and Etruscan water jugs. There’s something so tactile about his pieces. Please do touch the art.

“Autumn exists to remind us that things must end to begin again.” While I know this to be true, I wasn’t quite ready for the sight of crimson leaves on the pavement, or the absence of children’s voices in our home. I wasn’t quite ready for evening porch hour to turn into Netflix hour, or for my Chup socks and Birkenstocks to meet. I wasn’t quite ready for night to fall so early, and for our neighbours to retreat to their kitchens and dens before dark. I am never ready for the chill in the air, and more so than usual, my body is opposing it. I am not quite ready. But are we ever?

I love dahlias, but cut ones rarely last more than a few days. I’d sooner look at this painting of dahlias by Irish artist, Oisín Byrne. It’s thanks to his husband, Jasper Conran that I know of it. Conran posted it this morning on his Instagram feed, with a lovely ode to his late, great Dad, Terrence who passed this weekend. “Dahlia heaven. A treasure to last many lifetimes . Thank you so much @byrneoisin and to my Daddy for giving me a passion for dahlias.”

“My preference is always to work in silence,” says ceramic artist, Amy Dov. “I need to hear the sound of the wheel or the tone from the tool on the clay. Somehow I see better when it is quiet.” I love that last line. It’s so true. “Let us have the luxury of silence,” writes Jane Austen in Mansfield Park. Dov’s home studio looks like such a peaceful place, with all her warm, earthy wares scattered around it. These vases remind me of pomegranates, and these ones look like large pebbles that have washed up on a beach. Take a look at her beautiful wall hangings, also.

It was the cover of a Nancy Mitford book that led me to Lourdes Sanchez. I then discovered that a few years ago Penguin had published new editions of a series of Nancy Mitford books, all featuring the Cuban-born artist’s beautiful geometric patterns. Her watercolours are hard not to love. And it’s not just her bold use of colour that draws you in. There’s a looseness, and a surrendering to the medium’s natural urge to bleed and blend that I find an interesting contrast to the geometry of her patterns. Sanchez also created art for 250 limited edition copies of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic. Each one was printed on satin and stamped with gold foil.