“Wild places are an essential medicine
for me. Humans need to be in natural
landscapes regularly to be fully well”
n a pale winter’s afternoon,
the silver pendant that
Emma Mitchell is wearing
sh ines out , t he sta lks of it s
seed head design catching
the weak sunlight. Over the
past decade, Emma has
made a name for herself
silver clay to ca st t he for ms of
fossils, leaves, acorns and shells into stunning jewellery.
In the beach-hut studio of her Cambridgeshire garden,
she teaches others what she describes as this form of
“modern alchemy” involving a gas hob and what is,
essentially, a waste product from the technology
industry. But these are just two of the many strings to
her bow. It wouldn’t be ex t ravag a nt to ca ll t h is t ra ined
biologist, artist, photographer, craftsperson, botanist
and author, a polymath (and mother of two girls).
While the list of her talents and interests seems
disparate, there is a common thread: nature. Her love
of the great outdoors and the f lora and fauna that
inhabit it are at the core of Emma’s everyday life.OUTDOOR COMFORTS
Inside their pretty cottage, she and her husband Andy
have created an ideal place to nest. Modern-rustic in
style (zinc draining board, wall coverings made from
waste wood, vintage industrial-style lighting), the
outdoors is present, too – birds’ feathers, leaves and
berries are suspended from a length of string. The
seasonal arrangement is more than just a whimsical
decoration: Emma’s quest for signs of spring is key to
her wellbeing. “I self-medicate by getting out andFor designer-maker Emma Mitchell, craft, the great outdoors and science have combined to
powerful effect, soothing her soul on even the darkest days, she tells Ruth Chandler
seeing what’s growing.” Like many of us, she longs for
winter to bow out, but unlike the majority of us she can
be incapacitated by bouts of severe depression, most
likely to strike between November and March with
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). She has suffered
from SAD for 25 years, but it was after seeing two close
family members come near to death during the colder
months just over ten years ago that her condition
worsened; the return of autumn the following year
was inevitably associated with trauma.
In 2008, while grappling with poor mental health,
Emma began to work with her hands to help her
recovery. (In her typically down-to-earth way, she
points out that carbs, a Netf lix binge, anti-depressants
and talking cures also have their place.) Through a
blog documenting her creative activities, she
encouraged others to share ideas and was staggered
by the response: thousands of messages from people
at tempt ing to lif t t heir mood dur ing w inter by
photographing the landscape, baking cakes and
crafting blankets. “This was way before anyone
[outside of Scandinavia] had started using the word
hygge.” The best of these ideas feature among the
projects in her first book, Making Winter, alongside
potting up bulbs, doing botanical drawing and a
devilish recipe for a “f lipping delicious” five-minute
chocolate fondant in a mug (no cake snobbery here).REPEAT PRESCRIPTION
A wreath of willow, studded with natural finds
including snail shells, lies on a table in Emma’s sitting
room. For her, wreaths – combining a walk during
which she seeks and gathers materials, with the »