Some reflections on Motherhood and Making from Clay Hands mama

When I first opened Clay Hands, the studio felt far too big for me to fill alone. I shared it with my seamstress friend, Alex Katamarang, who stitched beautiful clothing and bags while I muddled along in mud. We soon discovered that dust and fabric don’t mix well, and the clay demanded more and more of the space. Alex branched out to her own place in town — but funny how life circles back. She’s now upstairs in her own studio here at 196 again, and still makes our beloved split-leg aprons.

Bit by bit, the studio filled up. Shelves, tables, makers. One kiln became three. Until eventually, there wasn’t enough room for even me to make my own work anymore. During my pregnancy, though, I had this unstoppable urge to create. And not only my belly but the size of my vessels grew! Out of that time came a range of large seed-like vessels... pieces that have waited quietly on the side while my energy went into running Clay Hands and raising my daughter Lyra. Finally they’ll be see the light of day next week in the 196 Gallery space as part of our group exhibition 'We're 196', which I'm so excited for. It's going to be amazing to see the full 196 community come together and share what we do for the first time.

These vessels hold a special place in my heart. They were made as part of an ecological grief process I needed to move with before I could fully open myself to motherhood — before I could hold space for a small human on this wild and tender earth. They feel like anchors of that transformation.

(photos by my husband Odon Human and Nola)

When Lyra was about six months old, it felt clear that I needed to seperate my personal work out from the teaching studio. I moved into a small private studio next door (tucked under the courtyard stairs, a little Narnia). It’s been a refuge for me, a place for small-batch making and experiments. It’s also been Lyra’s quiet corner when she comes to work with me. Over time, I’ve shared this little world with many makers but more recently two other makers: Za, who now teaches at Clay Hands, and Ruth, who began as an apprentice with us. Together, along with Val and Sylver, we’ll be showing our work in the group show.

Ruth peeking her head out in our shared studio!

I come to clay with a lineage — a thread of mud and memory carried from grandmother to mother to daughter. For me, making is both embodied meditation and off-the-path exploration: a way of speaking the languages of seed pods and sea urchins, of composting what has been into fertile ground for what’s to come. Motherhood has deepened that knowing. Lyra arrived as a teacher herself, showing me the art of radical rest and the necessity of letting parts of myself die so others could be born.

Now, as she get older, I feel ready to look outward and start sharing again. And I feel ready, too, to open doors that have been waiting. For a while, I’ve kept my private studio as my own, but the dream of creating an open-access co-claying space has tugged at me for years. That time is arriving. Soon, this space will become something new — a shared studio for makers who want to sink into clay without barriers. More on that later.

But first, these vessels. This show. This moment of return. And I could not imagine a more wonderful setting than here, rooted in the community of the 196 building, which daily reminds me that a more connected and loving world is possible.

I would love for you to join us and see the vessels in person, along with the incredible work of other makers from our building- there will be paintings, sculpture, woven goods, sewed things, metal objects and of course ceramics! It feels like a real celebration of growth, change and creative community.

🏵 Opening night is where the vibes going to be - 19th Sept from 6pm at 196 of course. Life's busy though so if you can't make it on the 19th, the show will be up 19 - 27 Sept. Come say hi at Clay Hands if you pop in!

Photo taken in 2025 by Moritz Leisen

Follow my personal ceramics account here: @bynatashahuman