Published · July 7, 2026
Studio Diary: The Feeling Matters More Than the Copy
I never set out to replicate a living flower exactly. What interests me is what lingers inside after a long period of looking — and that is what I put into every petal.
Today the worktable holds a peony. The cold porcelain has already been kneaded; beside it lie sculpting tools, brushes, and small jars of dry pastel. This is the quietest moment in the whole process: before I begin, I simply look.
When observation ends, making begins
I can spend a long time studying a living flower — its shape, the way the petals move, how light passes through a thin edge. But at a certain point I set it aside and start working from what has stayed with me. Not from the details, but from the feeling. That is why the curve of a petal might be a little more open, the light a little stronger, the shift in colour a little softer than anything you would find in nature.
Memory does not preserve every detail. It preserves a feeling. And that feeling is what I want to pass on through my work.
My flowers do not wilt — cold porcelain holds its shape without water or care. But that is not the point. The point is that every petal is shaped and tinted by hand, as an attempt to hold onto beauty the way the heart remembered it.