about.

I started working with clay in January 2025, thanks to my best friends who gifted me a private lesson at a ceramics studio. I’ve always felt pulled to this craft — watching people turn mud into something solid, useful, and sometimes even poetic, felt a bit like a magic trick I wanted to learn with my own hands.

Part of what hooked me is how old this art is — one of the first things humans ever made that could last. Clay is basically dirt turn to human-legacy. The tradition itself is passed from hand to hand, human to human, across centuries. I love that what I’m doing is new to me but old to the world.

What I also didn’t expect is how slow and relational the process is. Clay forces you to wait, to repeat, to fail, to try again. You get attached — every piece ends up carrying a little story: mine, the material’s, and whatever the kiln decides to do with it. (The kiln always has opinions.)

I’m still learning the basics of throwing and forming, and I’m still figuring out what my “voice” in clay might be. Right now I’m drawn to pieces that feel a bit architectural — clean lines, quiet precision, things that sit still but say something .