WORK EXPERIENCE: Pots of fun to be had at the wheel

The person brave enough to let me loose with terracotta clay and a pottery wheel was Ned Heywood, who has been throwing and glazing pots, bowls and plaques at his Lower Church Street studio for 30 years.

I was skeptical about the outcome. I once created a pot in school using coils of clay, built up in layers, but had very limited success on the wheel. Would my A-grade in A-Level Art be worth its weight in clay?

Anyone interested in ceramics will tell you it takes years to master just the basics of pottery, let alone to achieve the symmetry and balance of one of Ned's pieces.

Ned, who hails from Stockton-on-Tees originally, has been working with clay since he was 10 years old, when he would dig it up in his parents' garden.

Years later a design degree followed, which led to a job interview at a sixth form college.

When asked if he could teach pottery as well, Ned was creative with the truth.

"I stayed at one page ahead of the A-Level students and learned from there," laughed Ned, who moved to Chepstow in 1982 and went on to become a town councillor, mayor for a time, and chair of the Chepstow Festival for the past 28 years.

Ned's studio is everything you expect a pottery to be - lightly dusted, mostly brown, and peppered with dozens of beautiful pieces. The much more serene and spotless upstairs gallery contains a variety of 'seconds' at a discounted rate, as well as a fascinating model of a hotel which is based on a real building and picked out in minute detail, right down to the bins at the back.

Needless to say, that particular item is not for sale.

Returning to the centre of activity downstairs, I donned protective clothing (a spare T-shirt) and tried to recall what I already knew about throwing, which didn't take too long.

The trick, Ned told me, is to keep the clay in the centre of the wheel and keep your hands steady despite the wheel's constant rotation. Done correctly, this leads to a pot with sides of even thickness which you can then scrape and refine using rubber tools.

After pummelling a grapefruit-sized ball of clay to expel any lurking air pockets, Ned threw the clay onto the wheel, which takes pride of place in his front-of-house studio.

Sitting at the wheel and sponging water on the terracotta clay - which Ned has been using to create prizes for Cardiff In Bloom - a pot materialised in a matter of minutes.

Then it was my turn to have a go.

Sitting at the wheel, which you operate using a foot pedal similar to the accelerator in a car, I spun a fresh ball of clay into a round, flat shape.

Making sure to use plenty of water, the idea is to slowly raise the height of the pot with your hands, then create a recess in the middle with your thumbs.

Once the former ball of clay begins to take on a more pot-like shape, you steady the clay between the flat of your right thumb and left middle finger to thin out the walls, maintaining an even width.

Ned's years of teaching experience meant he was unflustered as he watched the clay begin to veer off to the side.

Despite struggling to keep the clay steady, after about 45 minutes I managed to create a fairly decent-looking pot, which Ned was kind enough to award an A*.

'Tricky' is not a strong enough word to describe the difficulty level involved, and it's clear why it takes years to become a master craftsman.

When he isn't showing hapless journalists how to make plant pots, Ned spends most of his time making blue plaques for listed buildings, and street signs for heritage projects in Brighton.

A large round plaque, destined to be mounted on a house where Lenin once lived in London's Tavistock Square, made it into the Argus as 'Picture of the Day' when it was spotted in Ned's window.

I soon learned that while most commemorative plaques require standardised lettering, heritage street signs are a different matter.

"I'm used to doing everything in batches," said Ned, who also has his own gas and electric fired kilns on site. Gas-fired kilns can have startling and exciting effects on the glaze of a pot, often resulting in a streak of a different colour or an unexpected pattern.

However, an electric kiln is required for high-quality blue plaques, as it produces the necessary uniformity in colour for a sign which often commemorates someone important who is now deceased.

Through Brighton council, a number of heritage groups have commissioned reproductions of Victorian and Georgian street signs - all with individual lettering.

"I'm so used to doing everything so it's identical, so it's quite a challenge," Ned added.

The ways in which potters get work and collaborate with those who commission pieces has changed a great deal since Ned first set out in the business.

"A lot of work is done on the computer," explained Ned, who uses design software to give an impression of what the finished result will look like.

"You used to go to Boots, buy a film, take photos of a design, get the pictures developed, post them off and wait for the person to write back.

"Now that is all done digitally, via email. With plaques you can go through up to 10 variations of design a day." Longer term, Ned is hoping to produce slabs for a memorial at Senghenydd, Caerphilly, to commemorate 100 years since the 1913 mining disaster.

The project, involving local schoolchildren and descendants of the 430 men who died, is set to start in October.

Meanwhile Ned and partner Anne who curates Chepstow Museum are upping sticks to the end of the street, which will see Ned's studio transfer from one listed building - the 200-year-old Lord Nelson House, on the market for £155,000 - to another, the former Mermaid Inn. And Ned's favourite aspect of his job?

"I am making a good living at what a lot of people do as a hobby," he said simply. "I love it. I think creating things is the most satisfying human endeavour."

You can see Ned's work at The Workshop Gallery, Lower Church Street, Chepstow. Call 01291 624836 to arrange a visit.