I never thought having all the time in the world could leave me feeling so unsettled. But there I was, in my first week in Bali, constantly searching for recommendations, asking everyone I met, with an entire day ahead of me and an endless list of plans.
I spent three months travelling through Asia and Indonesia. Almost two of those months I lived in Bali. And now I understand why so many people say the island either pulls you in or pushes you out, because it caught me in a way I never expected.
If I could have, I would have stayed many more months. But London, work, and my life here were waiting for me.
When free time weighs to much
The first week was hard. Not for the reasons you'd expect, it wasn't the language, the food, or being alone in a country so different from everything I know in Europe.
It was having free time. Too much time. I kept searching for recommendations, asking everyone around me, filling every day with tourist plans, as if I had to make the most of every single minute seeing things.
Until I remembered why I had gone to Bali in the first place, it wasn't to be a tourist for a few days. It was to go and live there for several months. I wanted a base, to build habits, to create a routine, something I had never managed to do in London. So I stopped chasing so many sights and activities, and focused on just a few things that truly mattered.
And I got there.
The day I found the studio of MY LIFE
I arrived at Mahteh Studio, in Ubud, on the recommendation of a ceramics shop I'd had noted down for years, longing to visit.
I remember that first day like it was yesterday: it made me want to cry the moment I saw it. Fara welcomed me, with three dogs and chickens roaming around an enormous rice field.
I planned to stay ten days. I ended up staying almost two months.
Learning to make, not to compare
Everything I felt in there was calm. Peace. A centre I didn't know I was missing.
I took photos throughout the day of anything I loved, anything that inspired me, anything I wanted to remember. The next morning, over breakfast, I'd go through them slowly… what colours, what shapes, what had moved something in me the day before.
I wanted to stop looking at Instagram for ideas. It's almost inevitable, you're on social media, you see something you love, and you think "I could make that my own way." There, surrounded by natural stimuli my eyes had never seen before, I wanted to reach a different place, to be inspired only by my own photos, my own memory, my own feelings. Without comparing myself to anyone. Just to try, and try, and try again.
On top of that was Celine's studio itself, the sheer number of glazes, colours, and types of clay there is incredible. Everything that comes out of that studio is beautiful.
43 Pieces, One Moment
I made 43 pieces during that time, so many that I had to buy an extra suitcase just to check them in on the flight back to London. I arrived with one suitcase. I came home with three. 33 kg only in ceramics.
They're not a masterpiece by any outside measure. They're very simple pieces, mostly cups or plates. But I love them madly. I've never once thought about selling them, they're mine to keep forever. I have given a few away, to family, but I've never put any up for sale.
Every cup, every line, every scratch, every pinch of clay, in each one of those pieces I was in my best moment, with no pressure at all, simply enjoying the process. Because what really pulls me in isn't so much the finished result, it's the process. The searching. Not knowing how something will turn out until it does. And once a piece is finished, the nostalgia it leaves me with makes me want to keep creating. It's almost like an addiction, I don't know what it triggers in the body, but it's what I love most about all of this.
What I take with me
I feel deeply fortunate to have been able to be there, to have worked and saved for years to be able to give myself a trip like that.
And above all, to have met Celine, who opened her studio to me, shared her knowledge of techniques and colours, and made me feel part of it from the very first day. Her partner Marco, who is an absolute sweetheart. Fara a total powerhouse, an all-rounder, wonderful in every way. And all my studio companions.
I carry that whole experience in my heart. I left with my chest full of nostalgia and peace. My eyes still well up whenever I remember it.
Now that I'm back in London, I hope to hold on to that way of working: not comparing myself, not looking outward for inspiration, and letting my style and my way of expressing myself keep refining, little by little, at my own pace.
