Can you describe the moment when you first fell in love with clay? What was it about the material that captivated you?
I fell in love with ceramics during art school. At that moment, I was having a difficult time with things going on in my private life and struggling with school. I was studying Architectural design at Sint Joost Breda NL as my childhood dream was to become an architect.
The moment my hands touched the clay, I knew I had found the material I wanted to work with for the rest of my life! It brought me back on my feet again, as it is Earth that you work with.
Especially porcelain made my heart skip a beat; its delicate, white, translucent result captivated me. However, most ceramicists know that it’s the hardest material to work with. At first, it was a love-hate relationship, with high hopes and low feelings when opening the kiln to see the result.
Can you talk about the transition from working on a large architectural scale to creating smaller, tactile objects?
In architecture, there are so many regulations, budgets, and amenities committees to consider that once the project is built, it often bears little resemblance to the original design. With ceramics, while there are some regulations, the process is different. You directly experience the result and can make changes you don't like during the making process. As long as the clay is soft, you can adjust the design to align with your original idea and the meaning you want to communicate.
At that time, ceramics weren't popular in the Netherlands, so I had to learn through trial and error. I bought books from the 70s with faded pictures and sought out people who could provide the information I needed, only to receive three different answers, since there isn’t just one way to Rome.
After years of struggling and trying to perfect my porcelain work, one day I realised that the imperfection was the perfection! These are handmade objects, not machine-made; they are meant to be enjoyed. That’s when my work started being recognised by Michelin-starred restaurants. I owe a lot to Edwin Vinke from De Kromme Watergang, who gave me carte blanche to create dinnerware that inspired him to design his menu.
With COVID, no restaurants were open, which gave me time to rekindle my love for architecture. I created a whole series of homages to famous architects who inspired me during my studies. They are light objects. I named the series "Wish I Was an Architect" as a nod to my childhood dream. The series became a success.
Currently, I’m working on larger interior objects, such as eye-catching plant pots and lamps. Each piece is unique, hand-built from earthenware.
Can you describe your process of experimenting with colour pigments and porcelain? What are some challenges you face?
I experimented extensively with pigments in porcelain, including natural foraged ones like rusted iron. However, I haven’t done that in a while. Many people are using these pigments today, and they can be expensive and deplete natural resources. For example, cobalt is mined under life-threatening conditions in Congo.
Of course, when glazing pieces and aiming for a specific colour, you can’t avoid using oxides and pigments. However, I try to minimise the amount of pure pigments in the clay body.
Can you explain the importance of tactile experience in your work with porcelain?
Tactility is what it’s all about; if it doesn’t feel good, it isn’t good. The piece has a spirit from the moment you start building. That’s why I always told my students to stop working when they felt stressed. If you’re stressed, the material will take over and may even burst in the kiln.
If an enormous building feels inhuman (because you might easily feel lost), then a piece of dinnerware or interior object should do the opposite. They are meant to be enjoyed, to make your heart skip a beat, and to feel loved! The best thing they can do is make you want to touch them all day.
How do you decide on the shapes and forms of your objects? Do you follow a specific design principle?
It depends on what I want to convey and what I want the final object to be. For example, when making dinnerware for restaurants, the pieces should complement the dish they hold. If the plate attracts too much attention, no chef would want to serve their dish on it. However, it should still contribute to the chef's story.
With the series "Wish I Was an Architect," I had to distil the unique details of an architect and translate them into clay. Meanwhile, I considered how I wanted the light to shine through without revealing the light source.
It’s just playing around I guess.
How do you determine the right clay body for your projects, and what are the specific characteristics you look for in a high-quality clay?
Every type of clay has its own costs, qualities, and look and feel. For example, earthenware is not ideal for dinnerware because it remains water-absorbent even when glazed. However, it is perfect for plant pots. On the other hand, porcelain and stoneware are well-suited for dinnerware and vases.
What are some common issues you encounter when firing your pieces in the kiln, and how do you troubleshoot them?
Firing is similar. First, the clay needs to be completely dry before firing. The firing process then depends on what you are firing and how slowly it needs to be done. Large hand-built items like my plant pots require a slow firing process, while porcelain dinnerware can be fired at a higher temperature but more quickly.
A big tip: take care of your kiln shelves—they need to be very flat and clean when firing porcelain. Also, apply kiln wash to the shelves to prevent your dinnerware from melting onto them.
How do you design and create your paper lamps to ensure they are both functional and aesthetically pleasing?
I made paper lamps back in 2012 as a fun project. The idea came from the experience of moving house and ending up with a lot of boxes and no ceiling lights. I thought, "What if the moving boxes could be reused as light shades after you’ve moved in?".
After removing the books, you could pop out the pattern and use the box as a ceiling light. The pattern, inspired by my Indonesian and Dutch heritage, was cut out using a laser. I looked for a producer at the time but never found one … so I moved on.
I think it becomes more and more important! It’s what makes us human. If we leave all the making to computers and machinery, we may lose our ability to fix things ourselves. Craft is our heritage and tells us where we come from. That’s why I’m so happy ceramics are back in the spotlight. It’s the same for textiles, painting, writing, and cooking.
