Finding Inspiration at Tate Modern: A Walk Along the Thames

My journey started at Waterloo, where I set off on foot along the River Thames towards Tate Modern. Rather than rushing from A to B, I took my time, weaving around the crowds of tourists while soaking up one of London's most iconic walks. The skyline is always fascinating here—a city where centuries-old architecture stands comfortably alongside striking contemporary buildings. The contrast between old and new is further enhanced by the layers of history, innovation and design that unfold along the river.

My destination was Tate Modern, with a clear purpose in mind: to gather inspiration for future ceramic pieces. I wasn't looking for specific ideas to replicate, but for colour combinations, surface patterns, textures and compositions that might spark new directions in my own work. However, ultimately, I was most inspired by the unusual processes employed by the artists.

I spent several hours exploring the galleries, allowing myself the luxury of slowing down and really looking. One of the joys of visiting Tate Modern is the sheer diversity of its collection. Each room offers something completely different, inviting you to shift your perspective and notice details you might otherwise overlook. From bold abstract works bursting with colour to quieter, more subtle pieces built around texture and form, there was inspiration everywhere.

As a ceramic artist, I often find that inspiration comes from unexpected places. A palette used by a painter, the rhythm of repeated shapes, or the balance between contrasting colours can all find their way into glazes, carved surfaces or decorative patterns. Sometimes it's not about a single artwork but about the feeling it creates, or the confidence with which an artist uses colour and composition.

Below are some of the works that particularly caught my eye and the elements that resonated with me as I think about future ceramic collections.

Marilyn Diptych – Andy Warhol

One of the first works that drew me in was Marilyn Diptych by Andy Warhol. It particularly resonated with me because I've been enjoying experimenting with a variety of printing techniques in my own ceramic practice.

Created in 1962, Warhol used a cropped publicity photograph of Marilyn Monroe as the basis for a series of striking screen prints. By applying bold blocks of colour, painting over some of the images by hand and then repeatedly printing Monroe's face over the top, he transformed a single photograph into a powerful exploration of colour, repetition and variation.

What I found especially inspiring was the way each print feels both familiar and unique. Small shifts in colour, alignment and texture create entirely different visual effects, despite using the same image. It sparked ideas for my own ceramic work, particularly experimenting with monoprinting by layering the same motif multiple times in different colours. Allowing each print to be slightly offset or imperfect could create depth, movement and unexpected colour combinations, echoing Warhol's use of repetition while developing a style that feels distinctive within my own practice.

As I continue to explore printing onto clay and layering decorative surfaces, Warhol's approach has given me plenty to think about. His confident use of colour and repeated imagery has inspired me to be bolder in my own experiments and to embrace the unexpected results that come from the printing process.

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Cage Paintings – Gerhard Richter

Another series that really captured my imagination was Cage Paintings by Gerhard Richter. There were six paintings displayed together, and I have included photographs of three of them above. Richter created these works by building up thick layers of paint before repeatedly scraping across the surface . By embracing an intentionally unpredictable process, he allowed unexpected colours, textures and patterns to emerge as the layers were revealed.

This approach immediately made me think about my own ceramic practice. Rather than applying slips or glazes solely with a brush, I'd like to experiment with dragging and scraping them across the surface of my vessels using a variety of tools and implements. The appeal lies in giving up a degree of control and allowing the materials to create effects that couldn't be planned in advance.

To a certain extent, I already explore this idea using handfuls of seagrass to apply and manipulate slips. Seeing Richter's paintings has encouraged me to push this process much further,

experimenting with different tools, thicker layers and bolder scraping techniques to discover what unexpected marks, colour combinations and textures might emerge. Sometimes the most exciting results come from allowing the process itself to take the lead.

Tirage (Shooting Picture) – Niki de Saint Phalle

One of the most fascinating works I came across was Tirage (Shooting Picture) by Niki de Saint Phalle. Part of her famous Tirs (Shootings) series, these works were created by embedding bags of paint within layers of plaster and chicken wire. Rather than completing the painting herself in a conventional way, Saint Phalle invited participants to stand at a distance and shoot at the surface, rupturing the hidden paint bags and allowing the colours to burst and run across the work in completely unpredictable ways. The artwork was as much about the act of creation and performance as it was about the finished piece.

What I found particularly compelling was the extraordinary sense of movement created by the flowing paint. The colours cascade across the surface in ways that could never have been precisely planned, giving the work a wonderful feeling of energy and spontaneity.

It immediately made me wonder how a similar idea might be explored in ceramics. I'm intrigued by the possibility of creating reservoirs or pools of glaze on a vessel and then finding an unpredictable way of releasing them so they flow naturally over the surface. The challenge would be to balance control with chance—setting the conditions for the glaze to move while allowing gravity and the material itself to determine the final result. It's an idea that feels both exciting and full of creative possibilities, and one I'd love to experiment with in the studio.

Guano – Judit Reigl

Another work that really appealed to me was Guano by Judit Reigl. Once again, I found myself drawn not only to the finished artwork but also to the fascinating process behind its creation. This piece belongs to a series that began almost by accident, with Reigl placing canvases beneath other paintings while she worked. Layers of excess paint dripped and accumulated over time before the surfaces were scraped back, reworked and transformed into richly textured compositions that resemble archaeological excavations or weathered landscapes.

What I find so inspiring about this work is the way it embraces the unexpected. Rather than trying to control every mark, Reigl allowed chance to become an active part of the creative process before responding to what had emerged. The resulting surfaces have an incredible sense of depth and history, as though each layer tells part of the story of the painting's creation.

This has made me think about how I might introduce a similar approach into my own ceramic practice. Instead of treating excess slip or glaze as waste, perhaps I could allow it to build up naturally on selected pieces before carving, scraping or revealing the layers beneath. The idea of creating surfaces that evolve over time, with traces of earlier decisions still visible, feels like an exciting direction to explore. It reinforces the idea that the making process itself can become just as important as the finished object.