Apple Rain Gazette
ISSUE No. 1 – August 2026
This morning I escaped the studio.
Not because I didn’t want to work, but because August had other plans.
By ten o’clock the room becomes an oven. Clay dries faster than I would like, the air gets heavy, and both the dogs and I begin negotiating with the temperature. During summer I sculpt early, usually between six and eight in the morning. Then we head out for our walk before the sun takes over, and I return for one last quiet look at whatever is waiting on the workbench before admitting defeat for the day.
So here I am now.
Sitting on a bench beside a lake, surrounded by mountains, enjoying the first breeze of the day while watching birds dive into the water with astonishing precision. They disappear for a moment, emerge with breakfast, and continue as though it were the simplest thing in the world.
It’s funny how moments like these untangle thoughts.
Perhaps that’s why this felt like the perfect place to begin something I’ve been wanting to bring back for a long time.
Welcome to the very first Apple Rain Gazette.
This isn’t a traditional newsletter.
Years ago I used to write little stories from the studio. Over time life became busier, the writing became quieter, and eventually it disappeared altogether. I missed it more than I realised.
So this Gazette is my way of returning.
About once a month I’ll invite you into the studio. Sometimes we’ll talk about sculptures, sometimes about dogs, sometimes about the strange little moments that become inspiration without asking permission. I’ll share works in progress, collectors’ stories, discoveries, old favourites, and perhaps, every now and then, Paul, the wise schnauzer, will quietly leave a thought behind before wandering off again.
If you’ve followed my work for years, thank you for staying.
If you’ve only recently discovered Apple Rain, I’m very happy you’re here.
Either way… welcome.
A sculpture should never feel like an online purchase
One conversation keeps repeating itself over the years.
Someone discovers a sculpture while it’s still in progress.
They ask if it will be available.
They wonder how the colours will develop.
Sometimes they ask if they should reserve it.
And very often, somewhere in the conversation, they apologise for taking their time.
My answer is almost always the same.
Take all the time you need.
I never want someone to feel rushed into bringing one of my sculptures home.
If you’re uncertain, wait.
If you’re still thinking about it, wait.
If your heart hasn’t said “that’s the one,” wait.
Perhaps that’s an unusual thing for an artist to say, but I’ve never believed these sculptures should be purchased the way we buy everyday objects.
Every piece is handmade.
Every piece is unique.
And because of that, I believe every piece deserves the right collector just as much as every collector deserves the right sculpture.
Over the years I’ve watched something curious happen again and again.
Someone falls in love with a sculpture but isn’t ready.
Life gets busy.
Plans change.
Months pass.
Sometimes even years.
Then one day they write again…
“Is that little dog still waiting?”
More often than you would expect, the answer is yes.
I’ve always liked to imagine that sculptures are patient.
Perhaps they know they’re simply waiting until the right person walks through the door.
It reminds me very much of bringing home a puppy.
You don’t choose one because you’re under pressure.
You choose the one that quietly feels like it was always meant to find you.
Maybe that’s why I have never wanted Apple Rain to become an ordinary online shop.
The conversations matter.
The waiting matters.
Getting to know the person who will live with the sculpture matters.
After all, once one of my pieces arrives in your home, we’ll remain connected through it for many years to come.
Fourteen Summers
This August marks fourteen years since I made my very first dog sculpture.
I often laugh when I think back to it.
It was the summer of 2012, during a stay with friends in Denmark.
I had time, curiosity and a lump of clay.
No business plan.
No expectations.
Certainly no idea that, fourteen summers later, collectors from around the world would be welcoming my sculptures into their homes.
Looking back, I don’t really measure those years by numbers.
I remember them through the breeds I discovered.
The mistakes that taught me something.
The techniques that slowly became part of my language.
The wonderful people I met because we happened to love the same dogs.
Every sculpture taught me something the previous one couldn’t.
And somehow, after all these years, I still wake up excited to begin another one.
I’ll share a small collection of photographs below, from some of my earliest work to more recent pieces.
Looking back like this is always a little humbling.
I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I have.
Sculptures over the years 2012-2026
New breeds, familiar curiosities
One promise I’ve quietly made to myself is that every year I should learn something new.
Sometimes that means exploring a breed I’ve never sculpted before.
Sometimes it means returning to one I haven’t visited in years, seeing it again with fresh eyes and slightly more experienced hands.
Both are equally exciting.
Studying a breed isn’t only about anatomy.
It’s about spending enough time observing until something deeper begins to appear.
Every breed carries a different rhythm.
A different elegance.
A different sense of humour.
A different way of occupying space.
Those are the things I try to understand before I begin shaping the clay.
This month I explored 3 new breeds, Maltese, Bearded Collie and Basset Fauve.
One of my favorite messages this month
Last week one of my collectors sent me a photograph that made me smile.
Actually… three photographs.
One of her newest sculpture.
One of it meeting one of her dogs.
And one showing all four Apple Rain sculptures now living together in her home.
Those moments never become ordinary.
Creating sculptures is a quiet job.
Most of the work happens while it’s just me, the clay and whatever music happens to be playing that morning.
So seeing them finally arrive where they belong always feels like completing the story.
Thank you to everyone who shares these little moments with me.
You have no idea how much they brighten my day.
From the studio shelves
Several new sculptures have recently found their place on the studio shelves while they wait for their future homes.
Some will probably leave quite quickly.
Others may quietly wait until exactly the right collector comes along.
Both possibilities make me equally happy.
If you’re curious about any of them, or if you’ve been hoping to see a particular breed one day, simply reply to this email.
Even if you’re only gathering information or wondering whether a future commission might be possible, you’re always welcome to write.
Good conversations often begin with simple curiosity.
That’s all for now!
If you’d like to reach out, simply email me at applerainart@gmail.com
Barbara
