From The Interviewer:

When I arrived at Richard Ballantyne’s studio, tucked away in a quiet corner of the UK, I was greeted not just by shelves of mischievous ceramic creatures—hares mid-leap, chickens with an  attitude—but by an atmosphere thick with curiosity and calm. The smell of clay dust, the quiet chaos of a well-worn studio, and the artist’s steady, generous presence made it immediately clear: this is a place where things are made with intention, skill, and years of hard-earned insight.

We had the chance to not only sit down for a conversation about his journey, but to join him one-on-one at the pottery wheel, shaping clay from scratch under his guidance. Later, we observed him work through the alchemy of raku glazing—his signature process—where heat, smoke, and spontaneity come together to create pieces that are both wild and precise.

Richard Ballantyne’s journey into ceramics wasn’t linear, and that’s part of what makes his story so resonant. What followed was not just a career in pottery, but a lifelong love for experimentation, storytelling, and the joy of making. His creatures are full of comical character and quiet complexity—the kind of work that lingers in your mind long after you've left the studio.

Today, Richard works with a network of galleries across the UK, where his distinctive pieces are in high demand and often sell out. As both a successful artist and seasoned educator, he offers a rare perspective—shaped by decades of making, mentoring, and proving that a creative life doesn’t need to follow a straight line to hold deep meaning.

• Varnika Kirby

Q: So, to start us off, I’d love to hear a little bit about how you first got into art. Was it always a passion?

A: It’s a long story. I liked art as a child, but when I went to secondary school, we only studied it until Year 9, till around the age of thirteen or fourteen. Unfortunately, due to scheduling issues, I couldn’t continue with art and had to take physics and chemistry instead. However, I was able to take my exams early, which freed up time in my timetable. Instead of picking another subject, I decided to spend all my time in the art room. Between Christmas and June, I built up enough work to take my GCSE in art within six months. From there, I went on to study A-level art.

Not knowing what to do next, I applied to various universities and ended up studying textile design in Bradford. I found it incredibly dull—mostly technical aspects like weaving structures, with very little artistic creativity. After a year, I left and enrolled in art college to study interior design. Once I graduated, I started working for a brewery, designing pubs.

Q: That’s quite a shift - from textile design to interior design, and then to designing pubs for a brewery. How did that transition happen?

A: Funny enough, my chemistry teacher once told me, “With your A-levels in art, chemistry, and biology, the only job I can see you doing is designing posters for Guinness.” He was being quite flippant, but my first job was indeed designing pubs for a brewery in Tadcaster!

I wasn’t particularly good at it, though, and I wasn’t enjoying it. My wife, Alice, was a teacher and had significantly more holidays than I did while earning a similar salary. That got me thinking. So, I decided to retrain as a teacher. I did a one-year teaching qualification at Bretton Hall and got a job as an art teacher.

My first role was overseeing the pottery department—despite knowing nothing about ceramics! To keep up, I started attending evening pottery classes on Mondays to learn what I was supposed to be teaching the rest of the week. I quickly became hooked. Eventually, I bought my own kiln and potter’s wheel and started experimenting at home.

Q: If there is something we believe a lot of young artists struggle with - it’s family pressure to pursue a ‘proper’ degree. Did your family support your decision to become an artist?

A: My father was horrified. He wanted me to be a doctor or a civil engineer. He never outright criticised my choice, but I could tell he was disappointed. He was more accepting when I transitioned into teaching because it seemed like a more stable career.

Q: Were there any key moments in your career that solidified your decision to become a full-time artist?

One moment stands out. During my first year back at university, I visited an art gallery in the Cotswolds. It had ceramics from some of the best potters in the country. The French gallery owner and I got chatting, and he invited me to bring in some work. I was too intimidated at the time.

A year later, I returned, and he remembered me. He asked, “You were going to show me your work, weren’t you?” I had some pieces in the car but hesitated, thinking he’d laugh at them. He assured me he wouldn’t, so I brought them in. He examined them, sorted them into two piles, and said, “These, I will sell for you.” That moment gave me confidence. He was willing to showcase my work alongside some of the best in the field at the time.

Q: You’ve taught at both school and university level. In your experience, do you believe art school is essential for aspiring artists today?

A: Art schools can make or break people. They challenge your preconceptions and push you to think beyond what you’ve been taught. Many students enter with excellent technical skills but struggle when they’re forced to approach art from a conceptual perspective.

However, art schools don’t always focus on technique. They often prioritise ideas over practical skills. Some students leave with strong conceptual knowledge but weak technical abilities. I think that balance is essential.

Q: That’s interesting to hear. Having personally been a self-taught artist, I’ve always assumed that art school is mainly about mastering technique and that the conceptual side comes later.

A: Not necessarily. I remember a lecturer watching me throw clay on a wheel. He simply said, “That’s better than anything you’ve done so far—it has a looseness to it.” That moment stuck with me. It taught me not to be too precious about things—to play, experiment, and let things happen naturally.

Q: And how do you feel about social media? So many artists are investing in platforms like Instagram. Do you think it’s a viable channel for building a sustainable art career?

A: Social media is great for exposure, but it’s not a reliable sales channel. We occasionally sell through Instagram, but not often. A strong gallery network is far more effective. We don’t even have a website anymore because we found we didn’t need one. We had enough galleries representing us, and a website attracted too many scam emails.

Q: Speaking of career advice, how should emerging artists approach galleries in today’s landscape?

A: Universities often tell students to send an email with images and wait for a response. That rarely works. Galleries receive hundreds of applications each month. You need to make personal connections. Visit galleries, introduce yourself, and build relationships.

Once you find a gallery you like, ensure it’s mutual. You need to trust them with your work, and they need to trust you. Most galleries take work on a sale-or-return basis, so trust is key. If you’re lucky, galleries will find you at shows, but making the effort to establish personal connections increases your chances.

Q: Before we finish, what would you say to young artists who are filled with self-doubt or feel overwhelmed by the journey ahead?

A: If you’re any good, your biggest critic will be yourself. You’ll always see the mistakes, whereas others will see the piece as it is. The key is to be critical, but don’t let it paralyse you. Always strive to improve. If you ever feel like you’ve “done it” and there’s nothing left to achieve, it’s time to quit.