
07/08/2025
The thing I loved most when I first met clay was that it truly was of the Earth. It felt like a homecoming. To have your hands moving, creating something from the land beneath your feet felt deeply poetic. It was a balm to my soul and a doorway into a connection I hadn’t realized I’d lost.
The first time I met clay was with two of my best friends, Kirst and . We were living in Bali during the chaos of the pandemic and took up hand-building classes to fill the time.
It was love at first touch. Just weeks later, Kirst and I spent a week in Ubud learning to wheel throw. It was hard, rewarding, frustrating, hilarious, and beautiful. Soon after, we opened a small ceramics studio where we spent hours creating side by side.
My creative practice became the space where I processed the messy, uncomfortable reality of being a trauma therapist. It was a space of joy and play. A space where I could simply be, without needing to do. It held me after long days of holding others.
It became a doorway to remembering the rivers of creativity gently pulsing in my veins. A bridge to Kirst when she became an angel. My rock through the grief of losing her. Even though I didn’t touch clay for nearly two years after her passing, knowing it was there was a wordless comfort.
It is what inspired me to create spaces like where others can uncover the power a creative practice holds.
Because making art is so much more than making pretty things. It is a homecoming. Every time we show up for our creative practice, we show up for ourselves. The messy. The tender. The beautiful. It held me through grief and through joy. And I know in my bones the joy of creating keeps me sane.
So go out and create. Carve out time. Stop saying you’re too busy. We all are. Lay down your to-do list and spend an hour doodling, painting, singing to your plants, or writing a poem. Witness how the urgency of the world fades. Because to be in art is to be in love. And love makes the world move slow and soft!!!
Moments in studio with my pots captured by .tch 🤍