Last October I found myself standing in the Fortezza da Basso in Florence, watching a woman’s face light up as she peered inside one of my sculptures. “Guarda dentro!” I’d learnt to say – Look inside! – and that moment, watching recognition and delight cross a stranger’s face in a language we barely shared, was worth every hour of preparation, every piece of paperwork, and every carefully packed peanut.

Let me tell you about exhibiting in Italy for the first time – the making, the logistics, the people, and what I’d say to any of you thinking about applying.

Why Florence, Why Now

The Florence Biennale is one of the largest international exhibitions of contemporary art and design in the world, bringing together over 550 artists from across the globe for ten days at the Fortezza da Basso. The theme for 2025 was Light and Dark – and when I read that, I thought: that’s exactly what I make.

My work has always been concerned with duality: inside/outside, hidden/visible, strong/fragile, the self we show versus the self we protect. So submitting felt less like a stretch and more like an invitation to bring the work to exactly the right stage.

Making the Work

Exhibiting in Italy

I took six sculptures – all from my Potential Inside collection: Looking Back, Inner Growth, Inclusions, Ring Promise, Earth & Sky, and Insidious. Every one of them was made specifically for the Biennale.

I wanted to present a cohesive set that spoke together, with pieces at different scales but unified by an earthy, almost sand-and-sea aesthetic: browns, sand tones, white, and touches of turquoise. I was thinking about the palette of the natural world – the same world the collection draws from – but pushing it toward something that felt considered and international rather than studio-casual.

Technically, these were challenging pieces to make. I combined raku clay with porcelain, two clay bodies that behave very differently and require careful management through building, drying, and firing. There were moments when the material simply didn’t want to cooperate – and I’ve learnt, over nearly thirty years, that those moments are the ones to pay attention to. Clay isn’t something you just control. It has its own will and voice. I feel sometimes persistence is useful, but it’s flexibility that allows both the piece and the maker to evolve.

One thing I notice people sometimes assume: that showing internationally requires you to make work differently, to somehow translate your practice for another culture or audience. For me, that isn’t true. I draw from nature – its patterns, textures, and structures are a language we all share, wherever we come from. My work abstracts these familiar forms into something that feels recognisable yet universal, and at the Biennale I was struck again and again by how similarly people from different cultures responded – the same instinctive understanding of growth, protection, transformation. The questions the work asks, about identity and hidden potential, don’t need translating.

The Practical Reality (the bit no one tells you)

I’ll be honest: the logistics of getting ceramic sculptures from Cambridgeshire to Florence are not for the faint-hearted.

Packing came first. I boxed each sculpture individually, then calculated the crate dimensions I’d need to hold all six safely. The key, I’ve learnt over the years, is no movement. Pack until nothing rattles, and you’re usually fine. Packing peanuts are unglamorous but they do the job.

Customs is where it gets complicated post-Brexit. I had to obtain an EORI number and work through customs documentation – this sounds daunting, and it is the first time, but the Biennale uses a specialist courier who guides you through the whole process. Use them. Don’t try to go it alone.

The display itself had a small drama on arrival: the base plinth I’d planned the whole installation around didn’t turn up with the rest. The sculptures looked fine on the individual plinths – but not quite right. The base arrived on day two, so I dismantled everything and rebuilt the display from scratch. The final result was more striking and cohesive than it would have been without the drama, which I suppose is very ceramics.

Being There

The Fortezza da Basso is enormous, and the scale of the exhibition is genuinely staggering – over 550 artists, dozens of countries, every medium imaginable. Highlights beyond my own stand included Tim Burton’s installation, which was extraordinary, and the chance to walk through rooms of work that had nothing whatsoever to do with clay and be genuinely moved by it.

Being in a mixed fine art context mattered to me. I approach clay as a sculptor and artist rather than as a maker of functional ware or traditional pottery. At an event like this, that framing is simply understood – you’re an artist showing work, full stop. That’s a particular kind of freedom.

The Ceramic Community There

I met several other ceramic artists during the Biennale. Sharon Bastin’s animal sculptures with mixed media elements were wonderful – full of life and narrative. Judith Unger’s large vessel forms, adorned with figures and gold, were commanding and strange in the best way. And Littlewolf Ceramics had vessel forms of such refined simplicity that I kept going back to look at them.

What struck me was how differently we all use the same material. If you’ve ever felt that ceramics is a niche, the Biennale will disabuse you of that quickly.

The Conversations That Stayed with Me

One of the unexpected gifts of the exhibition was the conversations – with visitors, with other artists, across languages and contexts. One visitor spent a long time with my work, asking about the individual meanings of each piece, why I’d chosen specific forms and inclusions. I loved it – and it reminded me of something I believe deeply: my inspiration forms the first chapter of each sculpture’s story, but the viewer writes the next one. Everyone brings their own perspective, shaped by memory and experience, and that dialogue is endlessly fascinating. That conversation also made me realise I should share the contextual detail behind each piece far more widely. The story matters as much as the object.

I also met the artist Cicada Ioanna, who works at the intersection of nature and technology. She was drawn to the organic, non-traditionally-beautiful quality of my forms – the fact that tension is held deliberately, that the work asks questions rather than simply pleasing. We’re still in touch and exploring ideas around a potential collaboration.

And then there was the simple joy of “Guarda dentro!” – those three words, and the way people’s faces changed when they looked inside and found a whole decorated world they hadn’t expected.

What It Gave Me

It gave me profile – since returning, I’ve received multiple exhibition invitations. It gave me conversations that are still unfolding. And it gave me ten days in Florence with my family, which I’d be lying if I said wasn’t also extraordinary.

What it didn’t give me was sales. The Florence Biennale is not a selling exhibition, and it’s important to go in clear about that. So what do you want from it?

Should You Apply?

If you’re considering it, here’s what I’d say: approach it as an investment, not a transaction. Ask yourself what you want the experience to achieve for you and your work. Is it profile? International connections? The particular kind of clarity that comes from seeing your work in a new context? Those things are real, and for the right maker at the right moment, they’re worth the investment – not just financially (budget carefully; costs add up), but in time, preparation, and emotional energy.

If the answer to “what do I want from this?” is honest and specific, you’ll know whether it’s the right step for you.

For me, it was. Watching that visitor’s face as the inside of the sculpture came into focus – that told me everything I needed to know.

Paula Armstrong is a ceramic sculptor, educator, and studio member of the Craft Potters Association, based in Fenstanton, Cambridgeshire. Her work has been shown internationally, including at the Florence Biennale and Spazio SV in Venice. Find her at parmstrongceramics.co.uk or @paula.armstrong2 on Instagram.