From a young age, I was always making things with whatever was on hand. Growing up in South Africa, where traditional structures like mud huts are built from simple, available materials, I learned early on that design doesn’t have to be complicated. This practical mindset stuck with me and has shaped my approach ever since, sparking a fascination with materials and how things are put together.
My dad’s garage added another layer to this curiosity. Working for 3M, he had access to all kinds of industrial and photographic materials, some of which I’d never seen before. I was constantly sneaking in, captivated by the textures and properties of each piece. Although I didn’t always know their purpose, handling these materials opened my mind to the potential for transformation in unexpected ways. This hands-on exploration became the foundation for the experimental, materials-led process I use in my work today.
By my teenage years, I’d developed a fascination with fabrics. I’d tag along with my mum to the corner store just to get to the fabric shop next door. This early interest led me to start sewing and, by age 14, I was behind the sewing machine pedal every chance I got. Eventually, I did a stint in fashion but found that the ethics of mass production didn’t sit well with me. So, in my early 20s, I packed up for London to find a different creative path.
In London, I took evening classes in ceramics and glass-casting, which opened new doors. Eventually, I pursued a BA in Contemporary Crafts at Falmouth University, experimenting with ceramics, glass, wood and metal. Artist residencies at Newcastle University and the National Glass Centre pushed me further, but it was my MA in Product and Furniture Design at Kingston University that brought everything together. There, I learned how to apply design methodology to my interest in nature-inspired design and material exploration.
Discovering biophilic design was a real “aha!” moment for me.
It gave structure to what I’d always felt — that there’s a powerful connection between nature and well-being. Bringing elements of nature into our spaces, even in subtle ways, can enhance wellness and create a calming atmosphere. Research confirms that natural materials positively impact our mood and sense of connection, a principle that only grew more relevant as we spent more time indoors during lockdown.
My first 3D flower-pressed sculpture began with a “hunt and gather” phase at a London car boot sale, where I sifted through a mix of eclectic relics and unexpected modern finds. Among them, I found a battered antique tie press, sparking an idea: Could I transform the traditional 2D art of flower pressing into a fully realized 3D sculpture? My goal was to breathe life into this traditional craft, experimenting with depth and texture so that the flowers could stand freely as solid forms rather than remain flat, pressed specimens.
Back in the studio, I studied the tie press closely to develop a new process around it. Unlike others who start with detailed sketches, I prefer an open-ended, exploratory approach. During my BA, observing British potter Neil Brownsword’s material-led methods encouraged me to embrace flexibility, letting each step reveal new possibilities. This mindset became central to my work with my Flora series, guiding my process as it evolved.
With this concept in mind, research became key to my work. I spent significant time at Kew Gardens’ herbarium, a 19th-century botanical research centre with one of the world’s largest collections of preserved plants. Studying the centuries-old methods used by botanists, I learned that pressed flowers in archival folders could last up to 500 years, inspiring me to create a molding technique that captures each flower’s color and structure for similar durability.
The process is slow and entirely handmade, requiring careful preparation of each stem and a custom molding method developed over years. In the first six months, I encountered one challenge after another — nothing seemed to work! Every test piece mildewed, and they had no structural integrity, leaving me close to giving up in frustration. But I had a clear vision of what I wanted to achieve and, as they say, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” So, I persevered.
Working at Building Bloqs, a London makerspace, gave me access to large-scale equipment and the freedom to experiment. Surrounded by other makers, I was able to refine my 3D flower-pressing process, testing different flowers and materials to find what would endure. Once the technique took shape, I began hand-crafting molds that could hold each flower for weeks, preserving its colors and form in a long-lasting structure.
As I mentioned, simplicity and resourcefulness — core aspects of my South African heritage — are central to each piece I create. That’s part of why I chose the straightforward name Flora. I wanted a name as unadorned as the work itself, leaving space for the natural forms to speak for themselves. Each piece is crafted to stand alone, capturing a specific season or place that is open to interpretation.
With Flora, my goal was to create a sustainable alternative to traditional bouquets, extending the life of plant materials in a way that preserves their character. This series transforms fresh flowers into lasting sculptures, combining nature with a renewed approach to traditional craft.
One of the most exciting parts of taking on commissions is that I never know where in the world the next one will come from. My clients generally include individuals, interior designers and galleries. A recent commission was for Wave Residence, a London retreat designed by the architecture studio fourteen a.m. as a peaceful sanctuary inspired by nature. With organic forms, natural materials and a biophilic design ethos, the project aligned closely with my approach. My floral sculpture was chosen to complement the earthy tones and rustic textures throughout the residence, enhancing its connection to the outdoors.
Balancing a full commission schedule often limits time for new creative exploration, so I take opportunities to expand my practice whenever possible. Recently, a residency at Enso House in Portugal allowed me two weeks to focus solely on other areas I want to explore, including my photographic practice, free from client deadlines. This immersion in creative experimentation provided a refreshing break from structured work. I’ve also just finished working on new international commissions for Paris Design Week and an exhibition in Beijing, and I’m excited to see where these opportunities lead.
One of the fun things about social media is seeing my work show up in unexpected places around the world. It’s always a bit surreal when someone reaches out — like they’ve stumbled onto something unexpected. Just the other day, I got a message from someone in America who said they enjoyed my work and encouraged me to keep going. Those moments add a boost, especially on days when the creative grind gets real.
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From Isabelle Fish | Shannon Clegg’s work always touches me deeply when I see it at art fairs or in collections. If you ever visit Cape Town, where she is from, be sure to take a nature walk and discover the fynbos, a Cape-specific natural biome with an infinite richness of plants that are both hardy and delicate. The ombre of colours, the gradation in plant heights, and the movement of the fields in the Cape wind are mesmerizing. Somehow, Shannon captures it all.
