One of the themes I often return to is "the ordinary day". The bit we live in and have influence over. It's this bit, the bit that we create for ourselves and fill with habits, rituals and simple little interactions in the world which is more powerful and impactful on our lives than the large events. Yet this precious and fragile veneer of ordinariness can be so taken-for-granted, overlooked and undervalued - until something takes it away.

I often have an expectation of my day - in constant pursuit of "the perfect day" - and some thing or series of things happen that challenge my preconception. Often it's those things, the flaws, imperfections, annoyances and cracks that present the interest, fun, or challenge me to deal with myself in one way or another.

In 2010 I decided to invest these ideas into a series of simple bowls. I would make 366 of them, each one having the same form but unique, and each one being a specific date. I had wanted to see an installation of these bowls – to see what a year looked like spread out in a gallery space, but having made about 30 the accumulation started to overwhelm the house so I decided to release them.

I have three of these bowls that sit on my dining table. I can see them from the kitchen and in the late afternoon, the sun pours into the far bowl, then the second and eventually the third. As the sun kisses the hills it illuminates the delicate edges of these bowls and I feel a very deep sense of gratitude to have my ordinary day.