I first encountered the ceramics of Lotte Glob in the far north of Scotland at Balnakiel Craft Village, near Durness. Even then, her work seemed to exist slightly apart from its surroundings. A mix of strange, playful shapes that felt organic despite their ceramic origins. She created mugs and plates too – we have one of her plates displayed on the sideboard in our kitchen sideboard – but it was the abstract pieces that stood out. Wee ceramic spheres that bobbed gently in the water. Strange organic forms that felt like they had descended from another planet.

Balnakiel was an abandoned army base, loosely transformed into artists’ studios. Every time we visited, it felt different. Opening hours drifted. Studios appeared and disappeared. The place positively encouraged a mindful wander, simply seeing what was there instead of seeking out anything in particular.

One studio kept drawing us back. Lotte Glob’s Far North gallery was one of the few that had reliable opening hours, and we made a point of visiting every time we were in the area. The work was beyond what we could reasonably afford, but we eventually chose the small side plate which is still proudly displayed in our kitchen.

In time, the Far North Gallery closed. Lotte moved to Laid, near Loch Erribol on Scotland’s far north coast and we stopped visiting the studio.

Loch Erribol has an unjustified reputation as Loch ‘Orrible – a legacy of the war, over 70 years ago. It’s an unfair reputation, for sure, but we remembered an unpleasant holiday at nearby Bettyhill, many years earlier when the rain didn’t stop for a week,. It was enough to stop us returning.

Until one day we searched out Lotte Glob’s website. The Contact page website invited people to visit by appointment. We hesitated. We were conscious that we were unlikely to buy anything, and surely this was a working artist’s studio? But Lotte’s invitation seemed genuine so we filled out the contact form, and Lotte’s warm reply came very quickly.

Lotte has always placed her work in the landscape but it was hard to imagine how it would look. Those strange, alien shapes. Would they really fit in with the heather and thin grasses of this soil-poor land?

Of course it worked perfectly. Ceramic forms were scattered across the croft. Half-hidden in shallow folds of ground. Standing exposed against the sky. In one quiet corner, children’s messages from the local primary school added to the sense of place. The ceramic forms felt both foreign and entirely at ease, as if they had emerged from the land rather than being imposed on it.

The light shifted constantly. Cloud and sun swept over the hills, delivering a challenging light. My small Olympus camera struggled with the dynamic range, but I reasoned that these were the weather conditions we had been given, and Lotte’s work encouraged us to stay in the moment.

Before we left, we visited the studio to look more closely at Lotte’s current work. When she came out to speak with us the conversation seemed unforced, although I’m sure that we said the same conventional things as every other visitor.

The sculpture croft is still there. I hope it’s there forever. It’s a very special place.