For as long as I can remember, I’ve been interested in clocks.

Not just in the way they function, but in how they sit within a space. There’s something about them that’s both practical and quietly sculptural — always moving, but never demanding attention.

Over the past few years, my relationship with time has changed quite a bit.

After going through a difficult period, I found myself thinking differently about how I was spending it. Like most people, I’d spent a lot of time either looking back or thinking ahead — rarely just being where I was.

Since then, I’ve tried to approach things differently. Slower. More present. Paying attention to what’s in front of me, rather than constantly measuring what’s next.

That shift has naturally found its way into the work I make.

The clocks I’ve been turning recently are intentionally minimal — often without numbers or unnecessary details. Just the material, the form, and the movement of the hands. The concave faces draw your eye in slightly, encouraging you to pause rather than just glance and move on.

The timber plays a big part too. I’ve been working with Flaming Beech from Devon, and each piece has its own character — some calm and subtle, others more expressive. Rather than forcing a design onto the wood, I try to respond to what’s already there.

In a way, these pieces have become more than just clocks.

They’re small, functional objects — but also quiet reminders. Not to rush. Not to overthink. Just to be present in the moment you’re in.

That’s something I’m still learning myself, but it’s a direction I want both my work and my time to move in.