a new sea ice low
On March 22, 2025, Arctic sea ice reached its annual maximum extent at just 14.33 million square kilometers (5.53 million square miles) – the lowest in the 47-year satellite record. This extent is 1.31 million square kilometers below the 1981-2010 average and 80,000 square kilometers less than the previous record low set in 2017.
The sea ice reaches its maximum extent every year around March time. From here on it’s a downward trend until it reaches a minimum in late September, after a summer of melting. It’s important to note that a record low maximum is occurring during the freezing months of the year, it means that ice growth has not been as successful. We have seen very extreme winter warming events this year, with average temperatures reaching 20C higher than the 1991 to 2020 average.
This stark data point resonates deeply with me. As a polar oceanographer and ceramic artist, I find that these shifts in the Arctic environment influence both my scientific understanding and artistic expression. The fragility of the ice, its patterns of formation and melt, and the broader implications of these changes are themes I explore through my work with clay.

What’s Melting (and Why It Matters)
The Arctic is warming nearly four times faster than the global average. This rapid warming is leading to significant reductions in sea ice extent – ice that forms at the sea surface and floats. The recent record low in March 2025 is not an isolated event but part of a concerning trend.

But it’s not just the Arctic – in February 2025, the global sea ice extent reached a record monthly low, driven by a combination of near-record lows in both the Arctic and Antarctic. These reductions in global ice cover have profound implications, including altered weather patterns, impacts on wildlife, and contributions to global sea level rise.
Understanding these changes is crucial as we look to the future and try to understand what kind of world we are entering. Through my art, I aim to convey the urgency of the situation and inspire reflection on the interconnectedness of our planet’s systems. It’s happening now, and will only continue to happen faster and faster.
From Data to Clay: My Process This Week

In the studio this week, I’ve been working on a new batch of slab-built forms inspired by calving tidewater glaciers. I’m inspired by a new exhibition that will be kicking off on May the 12th and want to recreate the towering masses of compressed blue ice that fracture and collapse into the sea. I’ve been layering thin sheets of white slip, letting them tear and crack in the drying process to echo the tension lines in the ice. The surfaces are rough, fractured, and will hopefully be edged with glaze that pools and shimmers in the surface cracks.
I’ve also quietly launched my webshop and stocked it with my thrown and carved pots. Each pot has been handcrafted and carved once bone dry. I find this style of reworking my pots helps me to achieve a dynamic and natural texture. One of the hardest parts of recreating the impression of ice or natural weathering is allowing that bit of randomness into the work. I aim for loose, abstract visuals and motions captured in the piece. These are some of my favourite pots and I’m very happy to share them online.
Clay Can’t Stop Ice from Melting – But It Can Make You Look
I’m not under any illusion that a pot can reverse climate change. But it can hold attention for a few seconds longer than a headline. It can slow someone down, make them feel something – wonder, grief, memory, curiosity. In a world where the Arctic is slipping further from public consciousness, I believe that matters. I find that communication when selling my work in person is missed when selling online, and that’s mainly why I have started this blog. If you bought or were given one of my pots, then I hope you can find something valuable here too.
Art gives form to things we struggle to hold in our minds: permafrost thaw, data anomalies, the eerie silence of a vanishing ice cap. Clay, in particular, is honest. It remembers pressure, carries fingerprints, cracks when pushed too far. It’s a powerful metaphor for ice.
To borrow the words of Inuk artist and activist Tanya Tagaq:
“The land is not ours. It is a part of us. When we destroy it, we destroy ourselves.”
That sentiment echoes through every pot I make. This isn’t just decoration – it’s a witness. A tactile reminder that the cryosphere is not some distant wilderness, but part of the same Earth we walk every day.
If something in this post stayed with you – a detail, a shape, a quote – I’d love to hear about it. That moment of pause, of resonance, is where the work begins. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, or reach out via my contact page.
—James
Want to dive deeper?
If you want to go deeper into the science, here are a few excellent reads from the past month:
Further Reading
- 📉 NSIDC: Arctic Sea Ice Sets Record-Low Winter Maximum
National Snow and Ice Data Center, April 2025 - 🌍 Global Sea Ice Hits Record Low in February
The Guardian, March 6, 2025
🔄 Arctic Warming Four Times Faster Than Global Average
Associated Press, March 2025