For most of my college years, I was surrounded by straight lines.
As an Architecture student, I spent countless hours drawing plans, building models, studying proportions, and making sure every detail was exactly where it needed to be.
Architecture taught me to appreciate precision.
But pottery taught me something completely different.
It taught me to appreciate imperfection.
The first piece
I started making ceramics during a particularly busy semester. I needed something that would take me away from my computer and allow me to work with my hands.
So I signed up for a pottery class.
My first attempt was far from perfect.
The clay collapsed more than once. My first cup was uneven. I struggled to center the clay on the wheel, and I remember wondering how something that looked so simple could be so difficult.
But I kept trying.
There was something incredibly satisfying about watching a shapeless piece of clay slowly become something useful.
Learning to slow down
The more time I spent in the studio, the more I realized that ceramics required a completely different kind of attention.
You can't rush clay.
You can't force a glaze to behave.
And you certainly can't control everything that happens inside a kiln.
Sometimes the result is exactly what you imagined.
Sometimes it is completely different.
And sometimes the unexpected result is the most beautiful one.
That lesson slowly changed the way I thought about design.
From architecture to everyday objects
My Architecture background still influences the way I create ceramics.
I love simple shapes, balanced proportions, natural textures, and pieces that feel at home in their surroundings.
But I no longer believe that everything needs to be perfectly symmetrical.
A small variation in shape can give a piece character.
A slightly different glaze can make it feel one of a kind.
A handmade mark can remind you that a real person created it.
That's what I want our ceramics to represent.
Made for everyday life
Today, I create pieces that are meant to be used, not simply displayed.
A mug for a quiet morning.
A bowl for a meal shared with someone you love.
A vase for a few flowers picked on a weekend walk.
Simple objects can become part of the moments we remember.
And perhaps that is what I love most about ceramics.
They don't have to be extraordinary.
They just have to become part of your everyday life.
Sometimes, beauty isn't found in perfect lines. Sometimes, it's found in the small imperfections that make something uniquely yours.