From a Welsh Hillside

February 22, 2025

Robin and Yoshi Dale-Thomas on craftmanship, creativity and connections.

"Did you know Yoshi means 'delightful branch'?" Robin excitedly tells me, "and I am Robin.” A fitting introduction to the talented partnership, the metaphor of the bird and the branch guides my conversation with Robin and Yoshi Dale-Thomas. Tendrils of inspiration creep through our meeting, the conversation centring around roots and home, new shoots of inspiration and creativity, and the rhizomatic connections of community, coincidence and kinship. The artists, who between them share a stunning oeuvre of ceramics, painting and Kintsugi inspired by their travels around the world and predominantly, the contemplative methodologies of Japanese craftsmanship, sat down with SIRPLUS for an introspective yet invigorating conversation.

Connections, for Robin and Yoshi, can be found everywhere. "Once I settled down, I found similarities between Welsh and Japanese culture" Yoshi explains, noting that this realisation came after an initial shock to the system. "It was a big life event" she tells me, highlighting the differences between rural Wales and London, let alone Kyoto, her hometown: "London was obviously a cultural difference but it wasn't such a big change for me," the self described city girl confesses. London quickly became a second home, but the pair never imagined moving to the countryside. Despite the initial surprise of trading London for Wales, the pair quickly found the values that they prioritised so dearly in the heart of the countryside. It was community based, valuing family and children. Robin and Yoshi were quickly embraced: "I found a sense of belonging I never felt in London."

Robin, who was born in Grenada and has lived in London, Devon, Portugal and Japan, also quickly found a sense of kinship. "It was a frightening idea, leaving London" he admits, "it was a big risk and an important decision to make." Quickly however, it was evident that it was the right decision, with the move out of the city enabling him to focus on ferocity and playfulness, rather than a concern with creating the next novelty for young city dwellers: "you've got space to digest things here, there's no walls between you and the outside." The "lovely sense of freedom," engendered by the limitless space and affinity with nature, was conducive to his craft. “The creative side is so present here” he tells me, recalling how his creativity has shaped him since school, much as he carefully shapes the clay that forms his striking ceramics. Pottery, for Robin, is a vehicle for inner growth, something to ground him and to provide a quiet and stillness in the tumult of daily life. The “breathtaking beauty” of the Welsh countryside, the pair enthuse, resonates with their passion for nature, and the meditative pleasures it offers.

With the change in landscape and the changes in seasons, their artistic processes also changed. Robin had been back from Japan (“a huge influence”) for a few years when he was working in London, so his style was inspired by Caribbean colours and Japanese shapes. "It was very instinctual," he tells me, explaining how his pots gained the distinctive earthy hues of his glazes. "When I moved to Wales I started raw firing, it's more immediate." The streamlined process, for Robin, was motivated by a desire to be more spontaneous and use less materials in the glazes. Upon moving to Wales, Robin found the desire to simplify the process, recalling how, in London, glazing had been more scientific: “glazing can be simple, relating to the landscape.” These subtle changes are reflected in the richness of Robin's work: "the works resonate with colours around here but it's not conscious, it’s more coincidence" he muses, "it wasn't me thinking I want the work to reflect the environment, the surroundings just bring this out.”

Challenges, naturally, accompanied these changes. Whilst shelter from the whims of inner city trends was freeing for the artistic pair, they were keen not to fall into a trap of cliché: "we don't want to become souvenir artworks" Robin and Yoshi laugh, explaining the luxury of delving into art and the full breadth of its practices. "I had to put pots on the backburner for a time" Robin explains, gesturing to how his art that we know and love today came to be: "I looked to Japan, where they are comfortable giving small pieces the same validity as large ones -- whilst here, we tend to be enamoured with the larger scale and ignore the small, I learned how to examine, study and make small things." It is this love, care and attention to their respective artistic practices that ensures the understated yet powerful nature of their creations. For Robin, the movement of throwing pottery is a dance, a unique set of movements and a personal sequence: "it's a good space for being present and still in your mind."

For Yoshi, her practice of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending pottery through golden joinery, creates a host of connections and sparks new narratives and journeys, the intimacy of the connection between owner and mender celebrated as people share the stories of their broken pieces. "I really love it" Yoshi enthuses. Moving from the fast world of fashion and its novelty into the longevity and care of Kintsugi were two arts divorced in Yoshi's mind, marking another shift in their move to Wales. Yoshi speaks passionately of the art; whilst the tiniest of chips can devalue even the most sentimental of pieces, Yoshi takes pride in mending the tiny fissures and bringing the pieces back to life: "there's a very quiet beauty to it, it brings the life back into the pottery." Robin, too, notes the difference in the creative practices: "fashion is out to shock and sensationalise, whereas with Kintsugi you take the broken pot and apply the craft with great care, and love and nurturing for that extension of life." Although seemingly distant at first, the relationship with the craft of fashion is perhaps less removed, "young people are embracing repairs and imperfections" Yoshi muses, "there's resonance between them." Perhaps repairing and mending is a shared instinct between the practices? "There's a connection" she thinks: "giving time and care to something, it's very easy to dismiss that, but giving yourself a moment to actually save something is just that little deeper."

Attention and care are not only at the heart of their creative practices, but embedded in their outlook at the world more broadly, with the magic of interacting with people and celebrating life's journeys at the heart of everything Robin and Yoshi do: "it's so nice to have your relationships nourished.” I wonder if this translates into collaborative artworks? "We stay out of each other's studios!" they quip. The exception is, of course, when Robin breaks a pot, although Robin is quick to enthuse at the joy of seeing Yoshi's work in the gallery. "We are stimulated by each other's work, but we don't work together."

Their teamwork most clearly translates into their venture of offering their renovated stone barns as holiday lets, comfortably nestled in the dramatic heartland of the Preseli Hills. The outbuildings were originally renovated for Robin's parents, Yoshi explains, recalling the passion Robin's mother had for interior design: "she was a perfectionist, she loved antique furniture." It was Robin's parents that instilled in the couple the art of creating a beautiful, nurturing space, hosting and sharing generously with friends old and new. "She was so beautiful and caring," Yoshi recalls, "we are now custodians of these pieces, guardians who take care of it all."

Today, Yoshi and Robin enrich their relationships within the local community and create new connections with people who come to stay from all over. "It's so great to share with other people, especially when they appreciate staying here - I can sense when they really love it" Yoshi tells me, enthusing at the pleasure they derive from it. "It's enriching, even though it's transient, people often return." The pair laugh, recalling how at first, Robin would manage the meeting of guests - "I was quite shy at first!" Yoshi exclaims. Quickly, though, she grew into the role: "hosting is artistic." Robin, reciprocally, has embraced the art of being open, of recognising what people can bring to your space, "it's exhilarating!," he tells me, enthusing at the opportunities it brings both artistically and socially.

Does it ever become too much? I wonder. It's an easy pace, they assure me, aided by the fact that sometimes the guests want to be left alone just as much as Robin and Yoshi want their peace! Hosting, it is clear, has made them grow, both as individuals and into the space they have embraced.

What's on the horizon? Yoshi has recently started painting again, which transpired to be a monumental decision. "I had a few sleepless nights thinking about joining the local art class," she laughs, "it's only one morning a week, yet it took me months to decide to join.” For Yoshi, giving time as a gift to herself was a big step, especially as a mother, "it's entering into different chapters of my life, getting hold of it and deciding for myself.” It takes courage to do this, she notes, but it's worth it. "I'm being me! Not just a mother." she exclaims, "it's a nice sensation and I am still learning! I love it so much, meeting new people and being part of the art community." She describes the feeling of a fish once again in water, which, to Robin, is natural, after all, "mothers have a whole host of creative things they do every day!"

Natural creativity and curiosity drive them both, ensuring the richness and variety of their lives. "We are very busy!" Robin tells me, citing his influence as "everywhere; it's your whole life." Everything that happens, he explains, will shift, and so, therefore, does the art, in a process that is sensory and intuitive and one that ultimately, you have to trust. This fluidity guides him. Art has to come from a place of desire rather than necessity, "there's the fantasy of the driven artist, but it's a torturous way to make art." Both assure me that you can have a nice time whilst still creating art, emphasising the importance of happiness, with art reflecting your wellbeing in its sense of fun and curiosity. Indeed, fun and curiosity exude from Robin and Yoshi, as does their immutable warmth and wisdom.

Do they have any advice for me, or the humble SIRPLUS journal reader? “You’re not on your own” they emphasise, gesturing to the breadth of connections our short conversation has encompassed. “We each pass a baton, woven into the generations. You’re on a journey and you have no idea where it goes, so listen to your inner voice.” “You just don’t know what’s around the corner, so you can’t have a sense of regret,” Yoshi adds. “I ask myself the question, is it healthy for the world, is it good for us?” Robin tells me; “after all, our wellbeing is so dependent on the wellbeing of others.” Caring, Robin and Yoshi have shown me, is another craft we can all strive to become masters of.