During my childhood there was plenty of opportunity for artistic development. My father, Thijs van Leer, was one of the founding members of the band Focus, and my mother was a sculptor, so my siblings and I had an unusual childhood. We were encouraged to live creatively. Anyway, the need to express ourselves ran through our veins. Growing up I took ballet classes and learned to act, draw and play the violin, which all came together during my time at the ABK Maastricht (Academy of Fine Arts). There I got inspired by performing artists like Bill Viola and Marina Abramovic.
When I left the Academy, I moved to Luxembourg and learned about ceramics from a good friend of mine. Being a young mother at that time, I felt more comfortable off stage than on stage and accepted clay more and more as my primary medium; it was a real coming home. Life led me to France and I discovered the rich ceramic history of the South of France. I studied at the Vallauris Institute of Arts to perfect the basic techniques of working the clay and glazing and learning how to make my own moulds. Vallauris has been the home of many artists and ceramists like Roger Capron (1922-2006) and Picasso (1881-1973), who started experimenting with clay as a support of his paintings in collaboration with a woman ahead of her time, Suzanne Ramié, who created Atelier Madoura in 1939 (www.madoura.com)
Living in France without family and friends to call on at a moment’s notice has been a huge influence on my work. It has forced me to be self-reliant and shown me that I am a survivor. My house is painted white. Because my creative brain is always on the go, thinking up new concepts and imagining new pieces, my interior must be understated and give me the peace and tranquillity I need to let the creative juices flow.
The house itself embraced me and my children and has given me peace and contentment. It is also in a wonderful location, close to the sea, surrounded by magnificent landscapes. Nature is a great source of inspiration to me. This is a perfect place for me to grow as an artist.
My hands can only do their best work when I am in balance, and am willing to let my emotions come through in the work.
The house, which I happened across just at the right moment, has a cellar with a private entrance that is perfect for my studio. People can walk in and see me at work. I fell in love with this cellar; what a great space to have in the home! The cellar is known in French as a Cave Voûtée, literally, a vaulted cave. The trough that I use for my pieces is a piece left over from the time the space was an animal stall. The sunken shelving is perfect for storing the clay and other utensils. These were originally the rabbit hutches. I built the square pillars to display my pieces. These are great for the open days that happen on a regular basis. There is plenty of space for me to store all of my supplies.
The next step on my creative journey took me to Cannes, where I discovered RAKU, originally a Japanese method of firing clay. Technically, ceramics are those things made from materials which are permanently changed when heated. For example, clay has chemically bonded water in it which will cause it to slake down (disintegrate) when a dried clay object is put in water. Once heated (fired) to between 660° and 1470°F (350° and 800°C), the clay is converted to ceramic and will never dissolve again.
To get my best results, I need to work from the heart and let the clay tell me what it wants.
RAKU, generally speaking, refers to a type of low-firing process that was inspired by traditional Japanese firing. Western-style RAKU most often involves removing pottery from the kiln while at bright red heat and placing it into containers with combustible materials. Once the materials ignite, the containers are closed. This produces an intense reduction which affects the colors in glazes and clay bodies. The drastic thermal shock also produces cracking—known as crackling since it is deliberate.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Being a perfectionist by nature, the unpredictability of the RAKU process and uncertainty of how the clay will emerge from the oven gives me an immense sense of freedom and happiness. I work the clay organically, without the use of a potter’s wheel.
I have a series of black and white photos of my work. In identical frames they are set off perfectly against the long, white wall of the living space. This type of contrast typifies my philosophy. Black against white, smooth against rough, rough against refined.
Initially, I use plaster moulds which I make myself too, as a base to form the clay. Then I build the pieces up with slabs and coils until I’m satisfied with the shape. Working with the clay the way I do is a wholly organic process. Firing clay with the modernized RAKU technique gives amazing results. It’s always a big surprise. The process gives me pure adrenalin! I love the distinguishing between glazed and unglazed parts of the pottery. My work is about the balance of contrasts. I try to make contemporary pieces with one of the oldest techniques of firing. It is a labour of love, and takes patience. Every piece is part of me. I can never make the same piece twice.
I see raising my two children, and watching them turn into great people, as a fantastic triumph. Had I not been a mother, I would not be who I am today and my art would probably not be as raw and unique as it is. Now that they are in their teens, I feel I am on the cusp of a new period and I’m ready for it. My self-confidence and individuality is growing. Especially since my work is hand-built, not with a potter’s wheel, and depends on even the slightest gesture.
On the Spanish side table there is a collection of items. The dish is one of my pieces. I also created the ‘birth egg’ as a gift for a newborn. It has a hole in the top, into which a wish can be placed. To find out what the wish is, the child will later have to choose whether or not to break the egg!
Now that the children are almost grown, my dream is to continue to learn and refine my craft, and by taking opportunities like this one, to gain more publicity for my work. Reaching a wider audience may benefit more appreciation for this ancient craft and sales of my work so I can honestly say that I truly earn a living from my passion.
This is also a period in which I want to learn to trust my own instincts more. I am a perfectionist by nature and find selling my pieces quite a delicate issue. Each piece is so personal that it’s like selling a part of myself. Therefore, I am sensitive to criticism. When I look at the RAKU process, it is almost a metaphor for life. RAKU is about surrender, trust in the process and being satisfied, whatever the result. I see it as a mirror for life. It’s as if I am on the crest of a whole new period. There is certainly a shift taking place.
As I let myself dive deeper into my own sensitivity, the pieces I create become more and more a reflection of myself and of nature. Being close to nature is very important to me. It has often been inspiring and healing at the same time. I am very spoiled in that matter. If ever I need to clear my mind, I take my dog and hike in the Alps or dive into the Mediterranean Sea. Instead of working to please others and trying to live up to expectations, I connect with my heart and the four elements of nature: Earth, Water, Fire and Wind, which then guide my hands as they knead the clay. RAKU embodies all four elements, which is perfect for me. Every moment has its own challenge. But the underlying theme is and always will be creating from the heart. That has been both the biggest challenge to achieve and the greatest triumph when I succeed.
To me, individuality also means authenticity. My best work emerges when it comes from that authentic place.
During my childhood there was plenty of opportunity for artistic development. My father, Thijs van Leer, was one of the founding members of the band Focus, and my mother was a sculptor, so my siblings and I had an unusual childhood. We were encouraged to live creatively. Anyway, the need to express ourselves ran through our veins. Growing up I took ballet classes and learned to act, draw and play the violin, which all came together during my time at the ABK Maastricht (Academy of Fine Arts). There I got inspired by performing artists like Bill Viola and Marina Abramovic.
When I left the Academy, I moved to Luxembourg and learned about ceramics from a good friend of mine. Being a young mother at that time, I felt more comfortable off stage than on stage and accepted clay more and more as my primary medium; it was a real coming home. Life led me to France and I discovered the rich ceramic history of the South of France. I studied at the Vallauris Institute of Arts to perfect the basic techniques of working the clay and glazing and learning how to make my own moulds. Vallauris has been the home of many artists and ceramists like Roger Capron (1922-2006) and Picasso (1881-1973), who started experimenting with clay as a support of his paintings in collaboration with a woman ahead of her time, Suzanne Ramié, who created Atelier Madoura in 1939 (www.madoura.com)
Living in France without family and friends to call on at a moment’s notice has been a huge influence on my work. It has forced me to be self-reliant and shown me that I am a survivor. My house is painted white. Because my creative brain is always on the go, thinking up new concepts and imagining new pieces, my interior must be understated and give me the peace and tranquillity I need to let the creative juices flow.
The house itself embraced me and my children and has given me peace and contentment. It is also in a wonderful location, close to the sea, surrounded by magnificent landscapes. Nature is a great source of inspiration to me. This is a perfect place for me to grow as an artist.
My hands can only do their best work when I am in balance, and am willing to let my emotions come through in the work.
The house, which I happened across just at the right moment, has a cellar with a private entrance that is perfect for my studio. People can walk in and see me at work. I fell in love with this cellar; what a great space to have in the home! The cellar is known in French as a Cave Voûtée, literally, a vaulted cave. The trough that I use for my pieces is a piece left over from the time the space was an animal stall. The sunken shelving is perfect for storing the clay and other utensils. These were originally the rabbit hutches. I built the square pillars to display my pieces. These are great for the open days that happen on a regular basis. There is plenty of space for me to store all of my supplies.
The next step on my creative journey took me to Cannes, where I discovered RAKU, originally a Japanese method of firing clay. Technically, ceramics are those things made from materials which are permanently changed when heated. For example, clay has chemically bonded water in it which will cause it to slake down (disintegrate) when a dried clay object is put in water. Once heated (fired) to between 660° and 1470°F (350° and 800°C), the clay is converted to ceramic and will never dissolve again.
To get my best results, I need to work from the heart and let the clay tell me what it wants.
RAKU, generally speaking, refers to a type of low-firing process that was inspired by traditional Japanese firing. Western-style RAKU most often involves removing pottery from the kiln while at bright red heat and placing it into containers with combustible materials. Once the materials ignite, the containers are closed. This produces an intense reduction which affects the colors in glazes and clay bodies. The drastic thermal shock also produces cracking—known as crackling since it is deliberate.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Being a perfectionist by nature, the unpredictability of the RAKU process and uncertainty of how the clay will emerge from the oven gives me an immense sense of freedom and happiness. I work the clay organically, without the use of a potter’s wheel.
I have a series of black and white photos of my work. In identical frames they are set off perfectly against the long, white wall of the living space. This type of contrast typifies my philosophy. Black against white, smooth against rough, rough against refined.
Initially, I use plaster moulds which I make myself too, as a base to form the clay. Then I build the pieces up with slabs and coils until I’m satisfied with the shape. Working with the clay the way I do is a wholly organic process. Firing clay with the modernized RAKU technique gives amazing results. It’s always a big surprise. The process gives me pure adrenalin! I love the distinguishing between glazed and unglazed parts of the pottery. My work is about the balance of contrasts. I try to make contemporary pieces with one of the oldest techniques of firing. It is a labour of love, and takes patience. Every piece is part of me. I can never make the same piece twice.
I see raising my two children, and watching them turn into great people, as a fantastic triumph. Had I not been a mother, I would not be who I am today and my art would probably not be as raw and unique as it is. Now that they are in their teens, I feel I am on the cusp of a new period and I’m ready for it. My self-confidence and individuality is growing. Especially since my work is hand-built, not with a potter’s wheel, and depends on even the slightest gesture.
On the Spanish side table there is a collection of items. The dish is one of my pieces. I also created the ‘birth egg’ as a gift for a newborn. It has a hole in the top, into which a wish can be placed. To find out what the wish is, the child will later have to choose whether or not to break the egg!
Now that the children are almost grown, my dream is to continue to learn and refine my craft, and by taking opportunities like this one, to gain more publicity for my work. Reaching a wider audience may benefit more appreciation for this ancient craft and sales of my work so I can honestly say that I truly earn a living from my passion.
This is also a period in which I want to learn to trust my own instincts more. I am a perfectionist by nature and find selling my pieces quite a delicate issue. Each piece is so personal that it’s like selling a part of myself. Therefore, I am sensitive to criticism. When I look at the RAKU process, it is almost a metaphor for life. RAKU is about surrender, trust in the process and being satisfied, whatever the result. I see it as a mirror for life. It’s as if I am on the crest of a whole new period. There is certainly a shift taking place.
As I let myself dive deeper into my own sensitivity, the pieces I create become more and more a reflection of myself and of nature. Being close to nature is very important to me. It has often been inspiring and healing at the same time. I am very spoiled in that matter. If ever I need to clear my mind, I take my dog and hike in the Alps or dive into the Mediterranean Sea. Instead of working to please others and trying to live up to expectations, I connect with my heart and the four elements of nature: Earth, Water, Fire and Wind, which then guide my hands as they knead the clay. RAKU embodies all four elements, which is perfect for me. Every moment has its own challenge. But the underlying theme is and always will be creating from the heart. That has been both the biggest challenge to achieve and the greatest triumph when I succeed.
To me, individuality also means authenticity. My best work emerges when it comes from that authentic place.
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During my childhood there was plenty of opportunity for artistic development. My father, Thijs van Leer, was one of the founding members of the band Focus, and my mother was a sculptor, so my siblings and I had an unusual childhood. We were encouraged to live creatively. Anyway, the need to express ourselves ran through our veins. Growing up I took ballet classes and learned to act, draw and play the violin, which all came together during my time at the ABK Maastricht (Academy of Fine Arts). There I got inspired by performing artists like Bill Viola and Marina Abramovic.
When I left the Academy, I moved to Luxembourg and learned about ceramics from a good friend of mine. Being a young mother at that time, I felt more comfortable off stage than on stage and accepted clay more and more as my primary medium; it was a real coming home. Life led me to France and I discovered the rich ceramic history of the South of France. I studied at the Vallauris Institute of Arts to perfect the basic techniques of working the clay and glazing and learning how to make my own moulds. Vallauris has been the home of many artists and ceramists like Roger Capron (1922-2006) and Picasso (1881-1973), who started experimenting with clay as a support of his paintings in collaboration with a woman ahead of her time, Suzanne Ramié, who created Atelier Madoura in 1939 (www.madoura.com)
Living in France without family and friends to call on at a moment’s notice has been a huge influence on my work. It has forced me to be self-reliant and shown me that I am a survivor. My house is painted white. Because my creative brain is always on the go, thinking up new concepts and imagining new pieces, my interior must be understated and give me the peace and tranquillity I need to let the creative juices flow.
The house itself embraced me and my children and has given me peace and contentment. It is also in a wonderful location, close to the sea, surrounded by magnificent landscapes. Nature is a great source of inspiration to me. This is a perfect place for me to grow as an artist.
My hands can only do their best work when I am in balance, and am willing to let my emotions come through in the work.
The house, which I happened across just at the right moment, has a cellar with a private entrance that is perfect for my studio. People can walk in and see me at work. I fell in love with this cellar; what a great space to have in the home! The cellar is known in French as a Cave Voûtée, literally, a vaulted cave. The trough that I use for my pieces is a piece left over from the time the space was an animal stall. The sunken shelving is perfect for storing the clay and other utensils. These were originally the rabbit hutches. I built the square pillars to display my pieces. These are great for the open days that happen on a regular basis. There is plenty of space for me to store all of my supplies.
The next step on my creative journey took me to Cannes, where I discovered RAKU, originally a Japanese method of firing clay. Technically, ceramics are those things made from materials which are permanently changed when heated. For example, clay has chemically bonded water in it which will cause it to slake down (disintegrate) when a dried clay object is put in water. Once heated (fired) to between 660° and 1470°F (350° and 800°C), the clay is converted to ceramic and will never dissolve again.
To get my best results, I need to work from the heart and let the clay tell me what it wants.
RAKU, generally speaking, refers to a type of low-firing process that was inspired by traditional Japanese firing. Western-style RAKU most often involves removing pottery from the kiln while at bright red heat and placing it into containers with combustible materials. Once the materials ignite, the containers are closed. This produces an intense reduction which affects the colors in glazes and clay bodies. The drastic thermal shock also produces cracking—known as crackling since it is deliberate.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Being a perfectionist by nature, the unpredictability of the RAKU process and uncertainty of how the clay will emerge from the oven gives me an immense sense of freedom and happiness. I work the clay organically, without the use of a potter’s wheel.
I have a series of black and white photos of my work. In identical frames they are set off perfectly against the long, white wall of the living space. This type of contrast typifies my philosophy. Black against white, smooth against rough, rough against refined.
Initially, I use plaster moulds which I make myself too, as a base to form the clay. Then I build the pieces up with slabs and coils until I’m satisfied with the shape. Working with the clay the way I do is a wholly organic process. Firing clay with the modernized RAKU technique gives amazing results. It’s always a big surprise. The process gives me pure adrenalin! I love the distinguishing between glazed and unglazed parts of the pottery. My work is about the balance of contrasts. I try to make contemporary pieces with one of the oldest techniques of firing. It is a labour of love, and takes patience. Every piece is part of me. I can never make the same piece twice.
I see raising my two children, and watching them turn into great people, as a fantastic triumph. Had I not been a mother, I would not be who I am today and my art would probably not be as raw and unique as it is. Now that they are in their teens, I feel I am on the cusp of a new period and I’m ready for it. My self-confidence and individuality is growing. Especially since my work is hand-built, not with a potter’s wheel, and depends on even the slightest gesture.
On the Spanish side table there is a collection of items. The dish is one of my pieces. I also created the ‘birth egg’ as a gift for a newborn. It has a hole in the top, into which a wish can be placed. To find out what the wish is, the child will later have to choose whether or not to break the egg!
Now that the children are almost grown, my dream is to continue to learn and refine my craft, and by taking opportunities like this one, to gain more publicity for my work. Reaching a wider audience may benefit more appreciation for this ancient craft and sales of my work so I can honestly say that I truly earn a living from my passion.
This is also a period in which I want to learn to trust my own instincts more. I am a perfectionist by nature and find selling my pieces quite a delicate issue. Each piece is so personal that it’s like selling a part of myself. Therefore, I am sensitive to criticism. When I look at the RAKU process, it is almost a metaphor for life. RAKU is about surrender, trust in the process and being satisfied, whatever the result. I see it as a mirror for life. It’s as if I am on the crest of a whole new period. There is certainly a shift taking place.
As I let myself dive deeper into my own sensitivity, the pieces I create become more and more a reflection of myself and of nature. Being close to nature is very important to me. It has often been inspiring and healing at the same time. I am very spoiled in that matter. If ever I need to clear my mind, I take my dog and hike in the Alps or dive into the Mediterranean Sea. Instead of working to please others and trying to live up to expectations, I connect with my heart and the four elements of nature: Earth, Water, Fire and Wind, which then guide my hands as they knead the clay. RAKU embodies all four elements, which is perfect for me. Every moment has its own challenge. But the underlying theme is and always will be creating from the heart. That has been both the biggest challenge to achieve and the greatest triumph when I succeed.
To me, individuality also means authenticity. My best work emerges when it comes from that authentic place.
The Women Create Foundation is a catalyst for small but significant strides to empower women creators through grants that help bring projects to life and foster innovation.
