Dr Samuel Bowser with [Katherine Glenday’s] porcelain vessel  |  McMurdo Research Centre, Antarctica  |  Photograph by Shawn Harper  |  2008

What is clay?


Humans have been mining and making things with clay for more than 30 thousand years. Long before formal agriculture, it seems that the worldwide use of clay — for pots, buildings, sculptures, ritual practices, pigments, medicine — is one of the most ancient human things. The material is particularly versatile and durable due to its tiny particle size (‘about the size of a virus’), the specific minerals in clay soil, and its great affinity for water. When wet, water molecules distribute themselves evenly throughout the clay, giving it a bendy plasticity — strong enough to hold a shape, soft enough to be squeezed between palms. When the water evaporates (in the heat of a kiln, or the sun), the clay transforms into a hard, brittle substance — vulnerable to weathering and shattering, but potentially strong enough to last for thousands of years.


Clay particles under microscope: large dickite plates in sandstone, Cretaceous, West of Shetland  |  Sample provided by Russell Gray  |  Photograph by Evelyne Delbos, James Hutton Institute

clay matters

This ancient hard-soft material is still everywhere. In addition to self-consciously ‘clay’ vessels and ceramic objects, it is so ubiquitous that we almost don’t see it. At least a third of the world’s population is estimated to live or work in clay structures (raw earth or fired bricks). We eat and drink from clay vessels, it coats our paper, is used in all sorts of industrial contexts for its absorbent and adhesive properties, for thermal energy storage, the treatment of acne and eczema, ‘to extend the life of rubber tyres,’ to plug holes in leaky dam walls

And, as we see in the collaborative work of Katherine Glenday, Christina Bryer and Claire Beynon, it might also draw us into material and imaginative dialogue with single-cell organisms in Antarctica.

To arrive where we started: porcelain and foraminifera in Antarctica

Foraminifera, or forams, are evolutionarily ancient, highly adaptive single-cell organisms. They have been around for at least 650 million years (predating dinosaurs by many hundreds of millions) and most of them live at the bottom of the sea. Somehow glueing together various sediments from the seabed around them, forams are identifiable by the protective shells (or ‘tests’) that they construct around their single-celled bodies. Serving as an archive of seabed sediments, these ‘tests’ are also very beautiful and geometrically intricate, perhaps suggesting a mysteriously brainless kind of aesthetic sensibility.

Millions of years after they die, the bodies and shells of the forams turn into fossilised sediments on the sea floor. These sediments might then turn into chalk, which might eventually be mined to make porcelain. For South African ceramicists Katherine Glenday and Christina Bryer, it was.

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]  |  Photograph by Claire Beynon  |  2008

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]  |  Photograph by Claire Beynon  |  2008

In 2008, as part of a collaborative research trip to study the foraminifera of Antarctica, Katherine Glenday and Christina Bryer sent their own porcelain objects back to visit the forams in the ice. Glenday made vessels that could be sounded like gongs — with the invisible resonances of the sound perhaps evoking similar material resonances, for a moment bridging the millions of years between the living forams and their fossils in the porcelain. Bryer made a geometric homage to the ‘tests’ of the forams, evoking that which is both materially ancient and always new. 

These porcelain pieces were carried down to the motionless Antarctic seabed, where they remain. And we can imagine that eventually they will disintegrate, and that new forams will find them and glue them into new shells, and that the porcelain-making circle will complete itself. Perhaps, to arrive where we started. Or to re-see a material relationship that has always been there.

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]  |  Photograph by Claire Beynon  |  2008

Katherine Glenday Antarctica

Katherine Glenday’s porcelain vessels [in Antarctica]  |  Photograph by Shawn Harper  |  2008

”The case of the three species of protozoan which apparently select differently sized grains of sand, etc., is almost the most wonderful fact I ever heard of. One cannot believe that they have mental power enough to do so, and how any structure or kind of viscidity can lead to this result passes all understanding.”

— Charles Darwin (in a letter written to W. B. Carpenter in 1873, expressing wonder at the shell-building capacities of agglutinated foraminifera)


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  9. Binczewska, A. et al., 2015. Foraminifers (Benthic). In: Harff J., Meschede M. et al., (eds) Encyclopedia of Marine Geosciences. Springer, Dordrecht.
  10. Pearson, P., 1998. The glorious fossil record. Nature,.
  11. Beynon, C., 2010. Nature’s Little Masons: Seven Meditations on Two Antarctic Seasons, Junctures: 13 [unseen].
  12. Darwin Correspondence Project, “Letter no. 8869,” accessed on 13 January 2022:
Foram microscope image

Majewski, W. &  Gaździcki, A., 2014  |  Agglutinated and unilocular calcareous foraminifera from Polonez Cove Formation



South African ceramic artist Katherine Glenday lives and works in Kalk Bay, and exhibits all around the world. She has worked with porcelain and its various material, imaginary and interpersonal resonances since the early 80s. Glenday’s virtuosic control of the medium gives rise to a paradoxical relinquishing  – her vessels drop out of an ongoing exchange between the hands and the clay and the fire of the kiln. 

Formally and conceptually emphasizing the porousness of borders and skins, the artist’s vessels defy categorization. They stretch into the most translucent edges of what we think porcelain should be able to do, and are continuously coming into being at the blurry intersections of ‘form’ and ‘function’ – between ‘the sacred’ and the kitchen sink, both impossibly perfect and always just about to spill or crack. 

Without reducing it to a metaphor ‘about’ anything else, Glenday uses the material resonances of porcelain as an entry point into the rest of the world. The porcelain vessel becomes a literal echo-chamber for light and sound, st illness and movement, the unsaid conversation, and the resonances that outlast it. The artist has alternatively described her use of porcelain as ‘painting with light.’

Defined by multiple collaborations with other artists, places and materials, Glenday’s approach to making is also strongly autobiographical – with an awareness of ‘the self’ as an inherently collaborative, dialogical construction. Similarly, the artist’s porcelain vessels are ‘about’ porcelain, and so they are filled and comprised of the whole material world.


South African artist Christina Bryer worked as a jeweller for 30 years before turning to clay – mostly porcelain – in the late 90s. Her first ceramic studio was a kitchen in a London apartment. The shift from diamonds to earth enabled an approach that could be profoundly ordinary and alchemical at the same time – rolling it out like biscuit dough on the kitchen counter, transforming it into an unrepeating geometric expression of all living things. 

To repeat without repeating, forever and ever – the artist has referenced and extended Penrose geometric tiling patterns since the beginning of her ceramic career. Identified by British mathematician Roger Penrose in the 1970s, these infinitely unrepeating patterns are reflected in the geometry of DNA – perhaps emerging as a kind of visual recipe for life itself. And a recipe that Bryer was able to find and return to in the kitchen.

Manifesting as geometrically intricate porcelain objects that hang on the wall, the artist describes her ceramic work in terms of painting, and making fabric, and icing cake. And there is the influence of her many metal-working years too. The result is an uncompromising celebration of form, process and earth – in all of its soft-hard contradictions, with everything arising exactly as it is. 

Bryer describes herself more as a conduit or a facilitator of the pattern that is somehow too real or too perfect for anyone to sit down and ‘make’ – here one can only pay attention and give form to what was already always there. 

katherine glenday

Katherine Glenday  |  𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘵 𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘰, 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘰𝘳𝘬  |  2017  |  Photograph by Alistair Blair

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]

Christina Bryer’s Porcelain foram [in Antarctica]  |  Photograph by Claire Beynon  |  2008