My creative path has never been linear. I began in fashion design, shifted into jewellery design, explored tourism for a while, and eventually found myself studying and working as a graphic designer, a part of me that still thrives. But everything changed the day I touched clay. Something about the material felt honest, grounding, and strangely familiar. That first moment was enough to pull me in completely, and I haven’t looked back since.

My transition into ceramics was gradual, shaped by observing artists I admired, asking endless questions, and simply spending time around the medium. Clay reveals its secrets slowly, and every bit of knowledge I have today has been gathered through patience, curiosity, and staying close to people who inspire me.

Over time, I realised that my graphic design background quietly informs the way I work with clay. The way I look at form, construction, balance, repetition, and negative space, even the way I shoot and present my pieces , all come from the visual language I built as a designer. But ceramics gave me something design never could: physicality. Texture. The satisfaction of holding something that was once just mud and intention.

I work extensively with handbuilding and wheel. My forms often play with clean shapes, subtle quirks, and the quiet discipline of construction , a blend of structure and play.

Ceramics gave me a creative home I didn’t even know I was searching for. Every piece starts as a simple lump of clay and becomes something that carries a little bit of me, my questions, my observations, my design instincts, and my love for the material. I feel incredibly lucky to have found this craft, and even luckier that it continues to teach me something new every day.