Swedish Ceramics: Finding Calm in Clay

Creativity is not about perfection; it is about presence. It is about allowing ourselves to make, to shape, and to see beauty in imperfection.

• Most importantly, it is about realizing that life, like clay, is meant to be touched, molded, and experienced, not simply scrolled through

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

In our hyperconnected world, where every pause seems filled with scrolling, swiping, and the endless rhythm of screens, I began to feel an urgent need to step away. I longed for something slower, something tangible, and something that would ground me in the present moment. That search for stillness led me to a ceramics course, arranged by a folk university just a short drive from home. The venue was in Gustavsberg, a town steeped in a centuries-old pottery tradition and home to the famous Porcelain Factory founded in the 1820s. From Nacka, the journey took only 15 minutes, yet it felt like traveling worlds apart, from digital noise to earth, texture, and the quiet beauty of shaping something with my hands, connecting not just with clay but with history itself.

The Arrival

The ceramics course was part of Sweden’s long-standing folk university tradition, where learning exists not for profit but for curiosity, creativity, and joy. When I arrived, I was the first to step into the large, airy workshop, a welcoming space filled with long tables, shelves lined with past creations, and the earthy scent of clay. The quiet gave me a moment to absorb the atmosphere, so different from the artificial glow of my laptop screen. Soon, two more participants joined, along with another instructor, and together we formed a small group ready to begin our creative journey.

The instructors started by introducing us to the material itself. The clay we were handed was no ordinary earth; it had been imported from Germany, known for its unique qualities and long tradition of fine pottery. France and the United Kingdom are also major exporters, each with its own distinctive varieties, and I was struck by how even raw clay carried with it a story of geography, culture, and craftsmanship. The workshop’s special kilns were essential for firing this particular type, underscoring the precision and care that ceramics demand. Holding that lump of clay, I realized it was not just material; it was a fragment of history shaped by centuries of geological formation, artisan knowledge, and cross-border exchange, now waiting to be transformed by my own hands.

Touching the Earth

Then came the part I had been waiting for; we were finally allowed to touch the clay. At first, the cold, damp earth resisted me, clinging stubbornly to my fingers and making every movement feel clumsy. But with the instructor’s gentle guidance, I learned how to press, mold, and coax the material into shape. Slowly, a form emerged: a small pot, modest yet deeply satisfying.

The process itself was unexpectedly calming. Each movement required focus, patience, and presence. Unlike the digital world, where I could scroll, swipe, or multitask without thinking, the clay demanded all of me. Its cool texture grounded me, its rhythm silenced the noise I had carried in from outside, and in that stillness I felt as if I were rediscovering something ancient, a quiet connection to the earth.

Around the workshop, the atmosphere grew alive. Children laughed as they rolled playful little animals; teenagers experimented with bold, uneven shapes; elderly participants worked with steady, practiced movements, their bowls and vases elegant in their precision. The shelves around us displayed finished works, mugs, and decorative pieces, glazed creations that hinted at what patience and practice could achieve. I admired them not with envy, but with a sense of possibility.

It struck me then that this, too, was part of Swedish culture: the idea that creativity and craftsmanship belong to everyone. Rooted in the tradition of ‘folkbildning’, “people’s enlightenment”, and the belief in lifelong learning, Sweden has long held that education and artistry are not privileges but rights, accessible to all who wish to explore them.

A Place for Everyone

What struck me most was the diversity of people who later filled the workshop. Before long, the quiet room was buzzing with life. Children as young as five, teenagers eager to experiment, young adults seeking creativity, and elderly participants with decades of wisdom all gathered in one space. The atmosphere was joyous, filled with laughter, conversation, and the rhythmic sound of clay being shaped.

It was a rare kind of gathering, multi-generational, creative, and free of judgment. Each person was absorbed in their own work, yet connected by the shared experience of creation. Watching an elderly woman carefully mold a clay bowl beside a young boy making playful shapes was a reminder of how art bridges generations. No smartphones in sight, no rush, just people creating with their hands and hearts.

This place reminded me of Stockholm’s KTH, the Royal Institute of Technology, where there was a professor whose responsibility was to review the final versions of PhD and Master’s theses. It was an intensely serious and time-consuming task, demanding focus and precision. Yet, there was another side to her personality, equally captivating. She carried with her the touch of clay as an essential part of life.

At home, in her kiln, she would mold clay as though shaping dreams, sometimes crafting bowls, sometimes mugs, and at other times giving plates a unique and striking form. But this passion of hers was never confined to her private world. She often brought her handmade mugs and bowls to KTH. Many times, we would sip tea from those very mugs she had shaped with her own hands.

I remember vividly that drinking tea from them was never just a simple act. It felt as if, in that very moment, the seriousness of knowledge and the delicacy of creation had quietly merged into one another. Those bowls and mugs were never mere utensils; they carried within them fragments of her personality, her effort, and her refined taste.

The Magic of the Potter’s Wheel

The highlight of the day came when the instructors demonstrated pottery on the wheel. If hand-molding clay had felt grounding, watching the wheel was pure magic. With practiced ease, the instructor placed a lump of clay on the spinning surface and guided it with wet hands. The clay seemed alive as it rose and transformed, first into a cylinder, then a bowl, then a vase. Each subtle pressure shifted its form, revealing both its fragility and its responsiveness.

We watched in silence, captivated. The transformation was so fluid, so graceful, it felt like witnessing a dance between human and earth. What appeared effortless was, of course, the result of years of practice, yet the sense of wonder was undeniable. The wheel itself seemed symbolic, a reminder of cycles, of time, of tradition, and of the quiet creativity that turns the ordinary into the extraordinary.

In that moment, it was impossible not to think of Gustavsberg’s long heritage. For nearly two centuries, artisans in this town had worked with similar techniques, producing porcelain and ceramics that became central to Swedish households and admired worldwide for their balance of function and beauty. To sit in a workshop here, shaping clay much as those artisans once did, felt like more than a lesson; it was a connection across time, a small but meaningful link in a much larger story.

Lessons Beyond Clay

As the day drew to a close, I felt lighter, not in body, but in spirit. Hours had passed without me once reaching for my phone, yet I hadn’t missed it. Instead, I had rediscovered the joy of slowing down, of feeling, touching, and shaping something real. The simple act of creating with my hands had reminded me that creativity requires patience that imperfection carries its own quiet beauty, and that stillness can restore what constant motion erodes.

I left Gustavsberg while thinking about the small clay pot that I made, imperfect yet precious, but also with something harder to hold: a renewed sense of balance, calm, and presence. The clay had shaped me as much as I had shaped it. This experience also deepened my appreciation for spaces like folk universities and workshops. In a world where education is so often tied to careers and productivity, these places remind us of the value of learning simply for joy, curiosity, and connection. Seeing a child, a student, and a retiree sit side by side molding clay spoke to the democratic spirit of creativity, an openness that belongs to everyone.

Here in Sweden, where design and craftsmanship are woven into daily life, pottery is not just art but culture. It reflects values of simplicity, function, and beauty that shape the national identity. To take part in it, even for a single day, felt like more than a class; it was a glimpse into a deeper rhythm of life, one that values making over consuming, presence over distraction.

A Call to Step Away

As I drove back to Nacka that evening, my hands still carrying traces of clay, I felt a quiet sense of gratitude. Grateful for the instructors, for the folk university that organized the course, and for the diverse group of people who shared the space. More than anything, I was grateful for the reminder that life’s richness lies in moments of creation, in the tangible, in the slow and deliberate shaping of something real.

In today’s fast-paced world, where attention is fragmented and stillness is rare, experiences like this are more necessary than ever. Social media may give us connection, but it often leaves us restless and fragmented. Clay, on the other hand, grounded me, literally and metaphorically. The deeper lesson of pottery and perhaps of life itself is that both are shaped by our hands, our attention, and our patience. When we rush, they collapse. When we slow down, they transform into something beautiful, lasting, and meaningful.

Creativity is not about perfection; it is about presence. It is about allowing ourselves to make, to shape, and to see beauty in imperfection. And most importantly, it is about realizing that life, like clay, is meant to be touched, molded, and experienced, not simply scrolled through. Sometimes, all it takes to rediscover joy is to put down the phone, pick up a lump of clay, and simply begin.

Read: The Forgotten Guardians of Sindh

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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.