Being an artist has turned me into a researcher. While navigating the world of ceramics, I’ve stumbled upon foundational paradigms that are as political as they are material—rooted in both the basics of pottery-making and the constructions of female identity.
The shape of my vessels is inspired by the pithos—an ancient container used for storing grains, oil, or wine. These were not decorative objects but functional volumes for preserving sustenance. They were made to be touched, lifted, filled, and emptied. This utilitarian origin matters. It ties the vessel directly to the body: to nourishment, care, and labor, often carried out by women invisibly.
Archeologists and historians have long attributed pottery and clay work to women across civilizations—yet when we trace the written history of ceramic art, we encounter a paradox. Men overwhelmingly author the documented, signed, and museum-collected ceramics. Female-produced ceramics are relegated to anonymity. Labeled as “No Name.” Considered too domestic, too plain, too unimportant to be named.
My vessels reject that narrative. Their shapes are full-bodied—deliberately heavy, tactile, sensuous. I draw inspiration from makeup aesthetics: skin tones, shimmer, foundation, blush, nail polish. It’s my gendered response to the idea of a “feminine touch”— ironic, layered, and rooted in contradiction.
Each piece is a tribute to the unnamed women behind generations of ceramic labor. Each is also a personal response to what I, as a woman, encounter daily: rituals of self-presentation, emotional management, and the constant calibration of how much space to take up.
