Clay as a Compass: Why Pottery is a Quiet Revolution for Our Mental Health

There’s a memory that returns to me every winter — the kind that burrows under your ribs when the days shrink and the sun forgets to visit. I’ve long danced with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), that grey, heavy coat that settles on the shoulders when the seasons turn. There were years when life felt like an endless list: lost, overwhelmed, overstimulated, overthinking, overtired — over it.

But clay — humble, messy, grounding clay — always showed me the way back to myself.

When I first wrapped my hands around a ball of earth, I didn’t know I was kneading my way out of my own head. I only knew that for the first time in months, the chatter in my mind quietened down enough for me to hear my own heartbeat. Pottery has been my sanctuary ever since — my map back to a gentler mind.

The Ancient Medicine in Our Hands

Modern research finally backs up what potters have known for millennia: working with clay is good for your brain and your soul.

A landmark study published in Arts & Health found that pottery, specifically hand-building, triggers a state of ‘flow’ — the same psychological sweet spot that elite athletes chase. This flow state quiets the amygdala, the brain’s fear and anxiety centre, while increasing dopamine, the ‘feel good’ chemical.

One systematic review (Frontiers in Psychology, 2021) concluded that ceramics activities significantly reduce stress and depressive symptoms while boosting self-esteem and social connection. Another study from the Journal of Applied Arts & Health found that clay work in community groups improved emotional expression and social bonds in people experiencing loneliness and mental health challenges.

It’s not just adults — clay works its gentle magic on children too. Child psychologists say tactile play with clay calms the nervous system, helps regulate big emotions, and fosters what experts call ‘creative confidence’ — the belief that they can shape their world, one pinch pot at a time.

Family Clay Play: Small Circles, Big Healing

Clay invites us to slow down, sink our hands into the earth, and remember what it feels like to play without a plan. It’s messy, forgiving, and it doesn’t rush us. It meets us exactly where we are — tired, wired, joyful, worried — and asks nothing more than our presence.

This is why I run Family Clay Play sessions at schools, often pro-bono — because I believe in this craft down to my bones. I’ve seen what happens when families gather in a circle around the table, lumps of clay in hand. There’s something ancient and holy about it.

Anthropologists remind us that humans have sat in circles shaping clay since before we even had written language. Clay was our first container for food, for water, for stories. It still holds us today.

I’ve watched children who came in with restless legs and worried hearts fall into a hush as their fingers press into the soft earth. I’ve seen parents arrive thinking, Oh, this will be good for the kids, only to find themselves rolling a coil and realising they’re breathing deeper for the first time all week.

One parent shared that sitting with clay helped them navigate a panic attack that snuck up in the middle of the session. Another told me their child — who rarely talks in class — opened up while pinching and smoothing the clay, words tumbling out as easily as the slip between their palms.

When we work with clay, we open our palms to the universe — we let our inner voice spill out, no matter how imperfect. We shape. We break. We rebuild. There’s no judgement here. Just earth, water, fire, and the quiet knowledge that we are always allowed to begin again.

More Than a Mug — A Mindful Ritual

In Japan, there’s an old saying: chawan no kokoro — “the spirit of the tea bowl.” It means that a simple cup can hold more than tea; it can hold intention, presence, and the chance to pause.

Each piece I make at Whistle & Page is my invitation to you: to sit, to breathe, to remember that your hands are wiser than you think. To build something, to hold something warm, to come home to yourself — even if the sun forgets to rise on time.

My Hope for You

If you’ve been feeling lost, overwhelmed, overstimulated, overtired — maybe pottery will show you the way back too.

I’ll be here, clay under my fingernails, ready to welcome you to the circle.

If you’d like to join a Family Clay Play session, or simply bring a bit of this quiet revolution into your own hands — my studio door is always open.

Until next time,
Nawsheen, your friendly homebody artist from Murrumbateman.

Sources & Further Reading:

Arts & Health Journal (2018): “Arts on Prescription: Pottery and Mental Wellbeing”

Frontiers in Psychology (2021): “Creative Arts Interventions and Depression: A Systematic Review”

Journal of Applied Arts & Health (2017): “Clay Work as Community Therapy”