My story.
My journey to clay was not a straight line, but a path that makes perfect sense in retrospect.
I am a filmmaker, shaped by the eye of a photographer and the narrative heart of a director — I studied both, most recently Directing at film school. My roots are a tapestry of Mozambican, Portuguese, and German cultures, a blend of perspectives that now finds its home and heartbeat in Lisbon, Portugal.
For years, I sought stories through lenses, light, and movement. Yet, I found a different kind of storytelling in ceramics. Here, the narrative is tactile, silent, and profoundly patient.
I fell in love with the entire, unhurried process: the moment of choosing a clay body, the meditation of throwing on the wheel, the precise dance of trimming, and the alchemy of the kiln. From the first touch of raw, damp earth to the final application of glaze, it is a practice of focused intention.
My studio meanwhile became my happy place. In here, the clock loses its meaning. Which is definitely one of my favorite aspects of the work. With my hands buried in the cold wet clay, I feel a deep sense of calm and connection. There’s something so profoundly grounding to it. Quite literally connected to the earth. A feeling of being completely present.
I am particularly captivated by the alchemy of glazes. The meticulous chemistry behind it fascinates me — how precise combinations of silica, flux, and metal oxides, measured like a potion, transform in the searing heat of the kiln into a universe of colors and textures. It is a dialogue between control and chaos, where a single variable can rewrite the entire story.
Yet, for all my planning — the calculations, the techniques, the controlled fires —the final act is always one of surrender. I adore this beautiful uncertainty. No matter how well you know the science, the second firing holds its breath, and the kiln door reveals a unique result every time. It is a humbling and thrilling reminder that some of the most beautiful outcomes are collaborations with chance, heat, and chemistry.
In pottery, I have found a home. It is where my artistic instincts — for composition, form, and feeling — converge in a single, tangible object. Each piece is made slowly, and made with love. It is not a departure from my filmmaking, but rather its quiet, solid cousin: another way to explore texture, shadow, narrative, and the profound beauty of a process.
This is where I make. Welcome.