Danny Forrest Creating the treasures

For Danny Forrest, nature has always been a place of curiosity, connection and comfort. From collecting small treasures as a child to shaping intricate works in polymer clay, her creativity is rooted in looking closely. In this conversation, Danny shares how her experiences, her discovery of being autistic and having ADHD, and her love of tiny details shape her practice—and why even the fingerprints left in her work have a story to tell.

How have Whangārei Heads and the Kāpiti Coast influenced the way you see and respond to nature?

Both Whangārei Heads, where I grew up, and the Kāpiti Coast, where I live now, are places where nature is impossible to separate from everyday life. The bush, beaches, estuaries, birds, insects and foliage are all around you, constantly moving, growing and changing. I feel very connected to these living landscapes. I think being surrounded by such a strong presence of nature has influenced my interests and ultimately finds its way into what I create.

What did you notice, make or collect as a child that other people may have overlooked?

I loved immersing myself in nature. Looking closely at the rough texture of tree bark, the smooth texture of clay in a creek, tiny insects, feathers, the veins running through leaves, droplets of water sitting on moss. Nature regulated me. I was always making things too. I’d make my own little sculptures from mud, build towns in the sand, mix up potions and perfumes from whatever I could find, and spend hours playing pretend in the beautiful trees, creeks, and beaches around me. I collected anything that felt like a treasure. In nature treasures like rocks, feathers, shells, leaves and dead insects. As well as a whole lot of other things I deemed special like bottles found buried in the ground, collectable spoons from various places we'd visited as a family, coins, stamps and the list goes on and on.

Do you see a connection between studying archaeology—looking closely, uncovering and piecing things together—and the way you create now?

Absolutely. Archaeology appeals to the same part of me that loves making art. I’m naturally observant of details, I'm obsessive, and I get a real sense of joy from discovering something, really seeing it, and then trying to understand or recreate it. I’m still drawn to that process of uncovering something and becoming completely absorbed in it. Interestingly, with my art I’m now creating the treasures rather than digging them up.

What was it about polymer clay that first captured your imagination?

Polymer clay meant I could experiment quietly at home, on my own terms, without a kiln or a class or anyone watching me figure it out. I could just play with it, make mistakes, and see what happened. 

What happens for you mentally and emotionally when you become absorbed in the repetition and tiny details?

I find it really joyful and grounding. The repetitive, tactile movements of working with clay give my hands something to do and can be quite meditative and regulating, especially when I’m overstimulated.

I can sit in silence for hours without moving and not realise how much time has gone by. Once I’m deeply focused, it can be very hard to pull me out of it.

But I can also be under-stimulated and need to add more sensory input while I’m creating, such as dancing to loud music while mixing clay, or listening to a podcast while sculpting.

I think that’s one of the things I love about making. I can instinctively adjust my environment to give my brain whatever it needs, while my hands get to keep doing what they love.

How did discovering that you are autistic and have ADHD change the way you understood yourself and your creativity?

Discovering that I’m autistic and have ADHD helped me understand myself and my creative rhythms better. I used to question why I could be completely consumed by creativity at times, then unable to create for long periods. Now I have more understanding for those cycles and less need to force creativity or question myself when it returns.I’ve also come to understand that my intense awareness of the natural world is part of how my brain works. I can become absorbed in the smallest details like the texture of bark, the pattern of a feather or the way light catches a leaf. The tactile, repetitive nature of making also helps regulate me. Working with clay gives me a way to settle my nervous system, process sensory input and return to myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed or scattered.

Are there particular natural forms or textures you continually return to?

Birds, foliage and other organic forms are the things I continually return to. I’m drawn to capturing the animals personality, as well as the colours, shapes, layers, textures and other variations found in nature. 

What details in your work might someone miss when they first look?

My fingerprints are probably one of the details people might miss. They’re embedded throughout my work because of the way I build and shape each piece by hand. For me, they connect the work back to the physical act of making: touching, pressing, shaping and responding to the material. In a time when so much is mass produced or generated by AI, I think there’s something increasingly precious about handmade. My fingerprints are a small reminder that a real person was here, making this piece.

What do you hope someone feels when they live with one of your artworks?

I hope someone feels the same sense of curiosity and connection that I feel when I’m making the artwork. My pieces begin with details I’ve noticed in the reference photo I have chosen to work with and then interpreted through my own lens. The colours, textures, patterns and imperfections are shaped by what I’m drawn to at that moment, as well as by my mood and the process of working by hand. I hope living with one of my artworks encourages someone to slow down and look a little closer. To notice the details and feel more connected to the natural world around them.

What part of yourself can be found beneath the surface of your work?

My artwork holds the way I interpret and experience the world, with polymer clay adding to and extending that personal vision. I take something from the world around me that has caught my attention, something that pops into my head, or find a reference photo that speaks to me, and then spend hours sculpting it. When I work with the clay, I’m not trying to recreate what I see exactly. The finished piece becomes a combination of the original form, what the clay allows me to do, and my own vision of it.

What are you curious about or wanting to explore next?

Lichen. I’ve incorporated it into a few of my pieces before, but at some point I want to create a piece dedicated to lichen, like I did with my moss series. I love the matte pastel hues, intricate textures and almost otherworldly forms.