Clouds are a terrible thing to try to hold onto. They shift as you look at them, dissolve at the edges, refuse to resolve into anything fixed for long. You think you’ve understood the shape and then, almost immediately, it’s gone — reassembled into something softer, stranger, less certain.
Frances Palmer’s Cirrus plates begin there. The collection takes its cue from cirrus clouds — high, diffuse, always in motion — but rather than imitate them, the forms seem to echo their behaviour. A slight lift at the rim, a line that doesn’t feel overly fixed, a sense that the shape could shift if you looked at it differently. They sit on the table with a kind of lightness that’s hard to engineer and even harder to fake.
Palmer’s work has always been about looking closely, then looking again. Her practice moves between ceramics, gardening, and photography, but the impulse is the same across all three: observe, repeat, adjust. The Cirrus collection feels like an extension of that process — forms arrived at slowly, then returned to until they settle into something that feels inevitable.
The original pieces were thrown in her Connecticut studio before being developed into moulds with 1882 Ltd., allowing the shapes to travel further without losing the imprint of how they began . You can feel that origin point in the finished pieces — not in any overt way, but in how they sit, how they hold weight, how they meet the table.
There’s a lineage running through the collection, though it’s worn lightly. A Korean celadon plate at the Met informs the dinner plate. Song dynasty forms surface in the salad plate. The bowls carry a nod to the Omega Workshop service at the V&A. These are shapes that have lasted because they work — practical, generous, built for use rather than display.
And that’s where the Cirrus pieces land. They don’t ask to be handled carefully or kept for best. They’re made for everyday use — for studio lunches, for overfilled tables, for whatever happens to be placed on them at the last minute. They make space for the food, and for everything that happens around it.
We spoke with Frances on the occasion of the collection arriving — about looking, influence, studio lunches, and the forms she continues to return to.
PORTA: Your work feels rooted in looking—at the garden, at the sky, at things that shift and don’t quite hold still. We’re curious what that practice of looking feels like for you day to day, and what’s been catching your eye lately.
FRANCIS: For me, looking is a a way of understanding the world and what is happening. Now that spring is here, I am observing what is blooming with a fresh eye and thinking about what shapes I need to produce for upcoming exhibitions. The garden and ceramics are a collaborative effort, and I always wait to be told in what direction to move in when I am working with the clay or in the garden
PORTA: We read somewhere that you felt inspired by the Bloomsbury Group and master studio potters like George Ohr. What other artists or art forms have informed the way you carry out your practice?
FRANCES: I admire the Viennese/English potter Lucie Rie, the American potter Warren MacKenzie and Japanese potters that make functional, everyday ware. I especially love to read cookbooks because I find the way chefs think about food parallel to the garden and ceramics. I also love Lucien Freud’s botanical paintings. I have been studying the history of terracotta and spending time at the Oak Spring Garden Foundation in VA with Bunny Mellon’s topiaries.
PORTA: The Cirrus pieces carry something of the sky in them—soft, lifted, almost weightless. We’d love to hear how those molds came into being.
FRANCIS: For the Cirrus collection, I wanted shapes that were simple, elegant and would look beautiful on any kind of table, classic, modern etc. The dinner plate was inspired by a Korean porcelain plate with a celadon glaze that is in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I study it every time I visit. The salad plate references a classic form from the Song dynasty. I came across a wooden plate in Kyoto, Japan that gave me the idea for the salad plate. The soup and salad bowls were influenced by the Omega Workshop dinner service that is on display in the Victoria Albert Museum. To me, these forms are the epitome of practicality and graciousness.
PORTA: What might we find plated on these everyday dishes in your home for an easy studio lunch?
FRANCES: I have been making a version of the goat cheese and leek tart from the first Chez Panisse Menu cookbook as my go to studio luncheon. My recipe can be found in my first book,Life in the Studio. It is an easy to prepare ahead standard, served with a salad and usually some cookies, either ginger snap or chocolate chip.
PORTA: We saw a photograph of you in your garden, standing in a sea of dahlias. What are you most looking forward to seeing come into bloom this summer?
FRANCIS: I was just out in the garden this morning cutting the first spring bulbs such as fritillaria, hyacinth, tulips and daffodils. Every part of the growing season excites and inspires me. I delve into all of this in my second book, Life with Flowers. Although I love the dahlias, my garden produces a tremendous amount of flowers from April all the way to early frost and each bloom is a joy.
PORTA: Over time, you’ve returned to certain shapes again and again. What keeps a form alive for you—what draws you back rather than letting it go?
FRANCES: I am continually drawn to ceramics produced during the Cycladic, Etruscan, and classical Greek periods. There is a poetry to these vessels that cannot be improved upon by contemporary potters. I love to construct forms, the actual making of them. No matter how many times I throw a shape, there is always more to be explored and studied. I also love to throw spouted vases inspired by 17th century Delft ceramics.
PORTA: What are your most treasured things in your home, and what do you find yourself reaching for most often?
FRANCES: The pots that I use every day, in addition to the Cirrus dishes, are different sized porcelain bowls and vases that have made their way over time from the studio to the house. Oxblood, Tea Dust and Celadon porcelain are a part of my serving ritual. My most treasured piece is a George Ohr unglazed terracotta bowl.
