My 2D Soul Fell in Love with Ceramics (and I’m Still in Love)

I’ve been making pottery for a few months now — and I’m completely in love.

For most of my life, I thought I was 3D-challenged.

I spent nearly ten years in art school living very comfortably in two dimensions — painting, drawing, printmaking, silkscreen, lithography, fiber work, mixed media. Give me a flat surface and I felt at home. But anything sculptural? That was always a different story.

I still remember sculpture class — welding, fire, hot metal, tools I didn’t understand, and a constant feeling that form itself was a foreign language. It was stressful. I didn’t know how to think in volume. I didn’t know how to build a shape in space. I quietly accepted that three-dimensional work just wasn’t for me.

And then I moved to Brazil.

Twenty-three years later since graduating from high school, here I am — taking ceramics classes. Learning about glazes. Understanding firing times. Finally beginning to understand form in a way I never imagined I could, and there is something deeply special about breathing life into an object you can actually hold in your hands.

What makes this even funnier is that I’ve always been a collector of ceramics. On every trip abroad, I would come home with cups, matcha bowls, small vessels with unusual textures and glazes. I loved them instinctively. I just never considered seriously making them myself.

Moving to a new country — and a new city — gave me access and affordability to try the things I had always quietly admired. I found a small ceramics atelier not far from my first apartment in São Paulo and signed up, almost on a whim.

The class is made up mostly of Brazilian women. Very few foreigners. Which means my Portuguese gets real exercise. But I joined for something deeper, too.

I wanted to grow community — especially with other makers. I wanted to be around people who build with their hands. I wanted to be closer to the creative energy that flows through this country, and especially through São Paulo. I am endlessly inspired by the art that comes out of Brazil.

My teachers — Bel and Pietra — have been wonderful. Bel speaks English, which helps, but most of my time in the studio happens in Portuguese.

Yet, ironically, when I’m actually working with clay, my Portuguese disappears completely. My brain becomes so focused — on edges, thickness, symmetry, balance, texture — that language drops away. There is a quiet, almost meditative attention that takes over. I didn’t even realize how deeply I needed that.

I also didn’t know that hand-building was a whole discipline in ceramics. I had always assumed pottery meant the wheel. On my very first day, I walked straight over to the wheel — convinced that was what I had signed up for. They gently told me I was in the hand-building class. At that point, my Portuguese was only about three months old, so I simply said “ok” and followed along. That day, I made my first bowl.

I instinctively carved fine scratches into the surface as the clay slowly stiffened, giving the form movement and texture. I chose a glaze almost blindly — purely as an experiment. I had no idea what would happen after the final firing and when I saw the finished piece, I was completely in love. Apparently my teachers were surprised by how clean and precise my construction was. I hadn’t even realized it. I was simply doing what felt natural.

That was the moment I knew I wanted more. I originally signed up just to try the class. Now, nearly nine months later, I’ve made bowls, plates, molded forms, a kyusu, and multiple sets of cups. I’ve learned to build with intention. I’ve learned to let accidents become part of the design. I’ve learned to trust the fire.

It’s everything I always loved about ceramics — but filtered through my own hands, my own rhythms, and my own visual language. My work is deeply influenced by this country — this new land I now call home. From the people I meet, to the colors in the streets, to museum visits, to the textures and histories that surround me every day. I feel constantly immersed in beauty here.

And as I have spoken about before, Brazil has also tested me. It has asked for resilience. Patience. Courage. Softness. Adaptability. And somehow, through all of that, I find myself crafting small, quiet pieces of gold — again and again — with my own hands. I still can’t quite believe it.

At the same time, this ceramic practice lives alongside everything else that happens inside my studio at Tree Likkle Herbs. I paint here — oil on canvas. I host herbalism workshops. I work with natural pigments, plants, textiles, and materials gathered slowly and with intention.

I write. I draw. I design. I teach.

I welcome guests for hibiscus tea and cashew juice.

I am always making something.

This is what my studio has become — a living, working, creative home. And now, for the first time, my ceramic pieces are available for purchase on my website. As new work comes out of the kiln, I’ll continue releasing pieces in small batches through the shop.

If you’re curious about my process — or would simply like to explore what I’ve been creating — you can find the current collection here:

→ View the ceramic collection in my shop

I’m incredibly grateful.

And I’m deeply excited to see where this work — and this new relationship with form — will take me next.