Every ceramic piece I decorate carries a part of my childhood with it.
I was only 12 years old when I used to watch my mother decorating plates. I followed every movement carefully — where she began the design, how she continued it, and where she finished it.
As a child, simply watching was no longer enough for me. I began drawing my own patterns with a pen in my notebooks, adding arrows to show where each element should go and making notes about which colors I thought she should use. Little by little, I started imagining the designs in my own way.
One day, my mother was not feeling well, and there was still a lot of work to be done. That was the day I took her place and sat at the potter’s wheel to decorate for the first time.
It wasn’t easy. My first attempts were difficult, but as the patterns slowly came to life beneath my hand, something happened that I have never forgotten.
It felt like magic.
