CERAMICs
Please share a bit about yourself and your background.
Please share a bit about yourself and your background.
I’m from Barcelona, but my father is from Hong Kong, and my mother is Catalan. I was born here, but when I was 18, I moved to London, where I stayed for 11 years before returning to Barcelona 10 years ago. In England, I studied photography, which had always been my dream. I loved working with analogue cameras and printing photos in a darkroom. But when I started my career, I found it disheartening. Digital cameras had taken over, and I didn’t enjoy the transition.
After a year in photography, I went to Beijing for an Erasmus program. While there, I became fascinated by the beautiful ceramics I saw in shops. That’s when my interest in ceramics really took off. As a child, I had dabbled in modeling clay from ages 6 to 12, but it was more for fun than artistic exploration. In Beijing, I started appreciating ceramics for their aesthetic qualities.
When I returned to London, I wanted to take ceramics classes but never found the time. It wasn’t until I moved back to Barcelona that I finally pursued it. I joined a co-working space in 2012, which marked the beginning of my ceramics journey. Over three years, I worked in a workshop, took additional courses, and began receiving orders organically. While I don’t have formal training in ceramics, I’ve gained my skills through a mix of self-teaching, courses, and hands-on practice in the workshop.
Please share a bit about yourself and your background.
I’m from Barcelona, but my father is from Hong Kong, and my mother is Catalan. I was born here, but when I was 18, I moved to London, where I stayed for 11 years before returning to Barcelona 10 years ago. In England, I studied photography, which had always been my dream. I loved working with analogue cameras and printing photos in a darkroom. But when I started my career, I found it disheartening. Digital cameras had taken over, and I didn’t enjoy the transition.
After a year in photography, I went to Beijing for an Erasmus program. While there, I became fascinated by the beautiful ceramics I saw in shops. That’s when my interest in ceramics really took off. As a child, I had dabbled in modeling clay from ages 6 to 12, but it was more for fun than artistic exploration. In Beijing, I started appreciating ceramics for their aesthetic qualities.
When I returned to London, I wanted to take ceramics classes but never found the time. It wasn’t until I moved back to Barcelona that I finally pursued it. I joined a co-working space in 2012, which marked the beginning of my ceramics journey. Over three years, I worked in a workshop, took additional courses, and began receiving orders organically. While I don’t have formal training in ceramics, I’ve gained my skills through a mix of self-teaching, courses, and hands-on practice in the workshop.
What was the early motivation to express your creativity through ceramics?
I’ve always had a deep connection with working with my hands. Growing up, I spent a lot of time making necklaces or painting, and my father, a cook, was always working with his hands in the kitchen, which influenced me a lot. I’ve always enjoyed trying different crafts, from jewelry to weaving and sewing, and the process of creating something from start to finish with my hands has always been very fulfilling for me. Ceramics, in particular, feels organic and natural to me. When I first tried it, I found it more meditative compared to other crafts, like woodworking, which felt too aggressive or limiting to me. Ceramics, especially the wheel, feels like a beautiful, rotational movement that produces something in a very calming, almost meditative way. It keeps me focused and grounded.
Although I can be impatient by nature, ceramics, unlike other crafts, allows me to enjoy the process without feeling rushed.
How do you think the places, people, and traditions where you grew up are now manifesting in your art?
Yes, I think the places I’ve lived and the people I’ve met have definitely influenced my art. My father, a cook, had a significant impact on me, and his work with food might be connected to my connection with craftsmanship. Growing up in different places has given me a unique perspective, and I feel that these experiences are reflected in my work. I’ve always had a deep appreciation for Japanese ceramics, which is reflected in my minimalist style. In 2018, I attended a ceramics course with a Japanese ceramist, Shinobu Hashimoto, here in Barcelona. A year later, I went to Japan to work with him in his workshop in Hokkaido. There, I focused on making teapots, a very complex piece that Shinobu specializes in. The level of detail and dedication they have to their craft was truly inspiring, and I learned a lot from their approach to perfection and patience.
I think this connection to Japanese craftsmanship is something I carry with me, as their focus on quality and attention to detail is something I deeply respect and try to incorporate into my own work. It’s also a reminder that the process of learning and mastering a craft should not be rushed. In Japan, there’s a great respect for the technique, which I find important, especially in ceramics. It’s about learning well first before making changes or experimenting.
What and who inspires you?
My sources of inspiration are constantly evolving. Right now, I’m very focused on finishes and color, particularly exploring more varied finishes. In the past, I was more focused on form, but now I’m discovering new aspects of ceramics. I think my style is still developing, and I enjoy experimenting. I tend to move between different areas of interest, and that’s reflected in my work. For example, lately, I’ve been more focused on creating pieces with more height, like jars and cylinders, instead of the flat plates I’ve made in the past. The orders I receive often dictate my focus, but it’s nice to step back and explore other areas when I can.
I think it’s important to allow yourself the freedom to evolve and explore, rather than feeling boxed in by expectations. While people who specialize in one thing may be more marketable, I believe there’s beauty in variety and in allowing yourself to grow as an arti
What was the early motivation to express your creativity through ceramics?
I’ve always had a deep connection with working with my hands. Growing up, I spent a lot of time making necklaces or painting, and my father, a cook, was always working with his hands in the kitchen, which influenced me a lot. I’ve always enjoyed trying different crafts, from jewelry to weaving and sewing, and the process of creating something from start to finish with my hands has always been very fulfilling for me. Ceramics, in particular, feels organic and natural to me. When I first tried it, I found it more meditative compared to other crafts, like woodworking, which felt too aggressive or limiting to me. Ceramics, especially the wheel, feels like a beautiful, rotational movement that produces something in a very calming, almost meditative way. It keeps me focused and grounded.
Although I can be impatient by nature, ceramics, unlike other crafts, allows me to enjoy the process without feeling rushed.
How do you think the places, people, and traditions where you grew up are now manifesting in your art?
Yes, I think the places I’ve lived and the people I’ve met have definitely influenced my art. My father, a cook, had a significant impact on me, and his work with food might be connected to my connection with craftsmanship. Growing up in different places has given me a unique perspective, and I feel that these experiences are reflected in my work. I’ve always had a deep appreciation for Japanese ceramics, which is reflected in my minimalist style. In 2018, I attended a ceramics course with a Japanese ceramist, Shinobu Hashimoto, here in Barcelona. A year later, I went to Japan to work with him in his workshop in Hokkaido. There, I focused on making teapots, a very complex piece that Shinobu specializes in. The level of detail and dedication they have to their craft was truly inspiring, and I learned a lot from their approach to perfection and patience.
I think this connection to Japanese craftsmanship is something I carry with me, as their focus on quality and attention to detail is something I deeply respect and try to incorporate into my own work. It’s also a reminder that the process of learning and mastering a craft should not be rushed. In Japan, there’s a great respect for the technique, which I find important, especially in ceramics. It’s about learning well first before making changes or experimenting.
What and who inspires you?
My sources of inspiration are constantly evolving. Right now, I’m very focused on finishes and color, particularly exploring more varied finishes. In the past, I was more focused on form, but now I’m discovering new aspects of ceramics. I think my style is still developing, and I enjoy experimenting. I tend to move between different areas of interest, and that’s reflected in my work. For example, lately, I’ve been more focused on creating pieces with more height, like jars and cylinders, instead of the flat plates I’ve made in the past. The orders I receive often dictate my focus, but it’s nice to step back and explore other areas when I can.
I think it’s important to allow yourself the freedom to evolve and explore, rather than feeling boxed in by expectations. While people who specialize in one thing may be more marketable, I believe there’s beauty in variety and in allowing yourself to grow as an arti
Could you tell us more about your teaching experience, including your early motivation to teach?
I do enjoy teaching, though I don’t teach as much anymore. I used to give more classes, but now I focus on just a few. Teaching helps me reflect on my own process and improves my skills because I have to explain the techniques I use. It’s challenging but also very rewarding, especially when I see my students succeed and express their creativity. Everyone approaches ceramics differently, and it’s interesting to see how each person interprets the craft. It also helps me reconnect with the excitement of learning something new, and I think that’s one of the most rewarding parts of teaching. Seeing someone’s creativity blossom is truly fulfilling.
I find that teaching ceramics, with its technical nature, brings out a lot of different emotions in students—patience, frustration, and triumph. It’s fascinating to witness how different people approach the same material in unique ways. It’s a great reminder that the process is as important as the end result, and I’m always learning from my students as much as they learn from me.
We're aware that collaboration plays a significant role in your practice. Could you discuss the importance of these partnerships to you and how they contribute to the collective support and development within your creative community?
Collaboration has always been a cornerstone of my practice, and its impact has been profound both personally and within the creative community. Early on, I worked in a co-working space surrounded by incredibly talented individuals, most of whom were women. Many of them have gone on to achieve great success in their respective fields, like Olivia Walker in the UK, who creates porcelain pieces with intricate floral designs for galleries, and Marissa and Marie Massot, known for her geometric ceramic works. Being part of that environment was transformative for me—it allowed me to learn and grow much faster than I would have on my own.
The dynamic of working alongside others fosters a level of connection and exchange that is invaluable. You’re not just sharing a workspace; you’re sharing ideas, techniques, and experiences. That sense of community pushes you to evolve and ensures you’re not stuck in isolation, which can hinder growth. Beyond the technical skills, there’s an emotional element to these collaborations, especially among women. We often find ourselves offering support, understanding, and encouragement—almost like a form of therapy.
While I value collaboration deeply, my needs have shifted over time. In the beginning, I thrived in a bustling co-working space with many people, as I was eager to absorb knowledge and experiences. Now, I find that a smaller, calmer environment suits me better. It’s about finding balance and focusing on the work at hand while still nurturing connections through smaller-scale collaborations, markets, and shared projects.
The key takeaway is that collaboration isn’t just about professional growth—it’s about creating a network of support and shared understanding. For anyone starting out, I’d say the best advice is to find or build a community where you can learn, connect, and share. It’s an irreplaceable part of growing as an artist and a person.
Where do you think lies the biggest potential to preserve important local crafts in the contemporary context?
The biggest potential to preserve important local crafts lies in reconnecting people with the origins and processes behind the objects they use daily. I believe this connection should start early, in schools, where children can learn not only about craftsmanship but also about the broader context of how things are made. Many of us are deeply disconnected from understanding where our food, clothing, or household items come from—how they are produced, who makes them, and what materials are used. This disconnection affects how we value these things and, ultimately, the decisions we make about how we live and consume.
Understanding the effort, skill, and history behind crafted items fosters appreciation and responsibility. It helps guide us to make more thoughtful choices about where we spend our money and how we live. This shift isn’t just an individual effort; it requires systemic support. Schools, workshops, and community experiences could play a critical role in embedding this knowledge and respect for craftsmanship into our culture.
We also need to challenge the disposable culture that prioritizes quantity over quality. Today, the idea that having more will bring happiness is misleading. Instead, surrounding ourselves with meaningful, well-crafted items—whether they are expensive or simple, as long as they are valued—can bring greater satisfaction and a sense of purpose.
Preserving local crafts means embracing a mindset that values longevity, care, and connection over constant consumption. It’s about fostering a deeper understanding of what we have and supporting the crafts and traditions that keep this knowledge alive. By doing so, we create a culture that respects the past and builds a more thoughtful future.
What upcoming projects make you excited right now?
I’m really excited about exploring porcelain, especially its connection to China. I’ve been thinking about creating some porcelain pieces that are less utilitarian and more decorative—kind of a mix of magic and art. I’d love to reinterpret old pieces and give them a more contemporary twist. I also had an idea to create a basket, but for now, that will have to wait.
Where and how can people engage more with your work?
Right now, the best way is through Instagram @hojiceramics. I’ll be sharing more there, and soon, I’ll also be putting my work here. If all goes well, I expect to have some new things available in about three months, and I’ll make sure to keep everyone update
Photos belong to Julia.
Could you tell us more about your teaching experience, including your early motivation to teach?
I do enjoy teaching, though I don’t teach as much anymore. I used to give more classes, but now I focus on just a few. Teaching helps me reflect on my own process and improves my skills because I have to explain the techniques I use. It’s challenging but also very rewarding, especially when I see my students succeed and express their creativity. Everyone approaches ceramics differently, and it’s interesting to see how each person interprets the craft. It also helps me reconnect with the excitement of learning something new, and I think that’s one of the most rewarding parts of teaching. Seeing someone’s creativity blossom is truly fulfilling.
I find that teaching ceramics, with its technical nature, brings out a lot of different emotions in students—patience, frustration, and triumph. It’s fascinating to witness how different people approach the same material in unique ways. It’s a great reminder that the process is as important as the end result, and I’m always learning from my students as much as they learn from me.
We're aware that collaboration plays a significant role in your practice. Could you discuss the importance of these partnerships to you and how they contribute to the collective support and development within your creative community?
Collaboration has always been a cornerstone of my practice, and its impact has been profound both personally and within the creative community. Early on, I worked in a co-working space surrounded by incredibly talented individuals, most of whom were women. Many of them have gone on to achieve great success in their respective fields, like Olivia Walker in the UK, who creates porcelain pieces with intricate floral designs for galleries, and Marissa and Marie Massot, known for her geometric ceramic works. Being part of that environment was transformative for me—it allowed me to learn and grow much faster than I would have on my own.
The dynamic of working alongside others fosters a level of connection and exchange that is invaluable. You’re not just sharing a workspace; you’re sharing ideas, techniques, and experiences. That sense of community pushes you to evolve and ensures you’re not stuck in isolation, which can hinder growth. Beyond the technical skills, there’s an emotional element to these collaborations, especially among women. We often find ourselves offering support, understanding, and encouragement—almost like a form of therapy.
While I value collaboration deeply, my needs have shifted over time. In the beginning, I thrived in a bustling co-working space with many people, as I was eager to absorb knowledge and experiences. Now, I find that a smaller, calmer environment suits me better. It’s about finding balance and focusing on the work at hand while still nurturing connections through smaller-scale collaborations, markets, and shared projects.
The key takeaway is that collaboration isn’t just about professional growth—it’s about creating a network of support and shared understanding. For anyone starting out, I’d say the best advice is to find or build a community where you can learn, connect, and share. It’s an irreplaceable part of growing as an artist and a person.
Where do you think the biggest potential lies for preserving important local crafts in the contemporary context?
The biggest potential to preserve important local crafts lies in reconnecting people with the origins and processes behind the objects they use daily. I believe this connection should start early, in schools, where children can learn not only about craftsmanship but also about the broader context of how things are made. Many of us are deeply disconnected from understanding where our food, clothing, or household items come from—how they are produced, who makes them, and what materials are used. This disconnection affects how we value these things and, ultimately, the decisions we make about how we live and consume.
Understanding the effort, skill, and history behind crafted items fosters appreciation and responsibility. It helps guide us to make more thoughtful choices about where we spend our money and how we live. This shift isn’t just an individual effort; it requires systemic support. Schools, workshops, and community experiences could play a critical role in embedding this knowledge and respect for craftsmanship into our culture.
We also need to challenge the disposable culture that prioritizes quantity over quality. Today, the idea that having more will bring happiness is misleading. Instead, surrounding ourselves with meaningful, well-crafted items—whether they are expensive or simple, as long as they are valued—can bring greater satisfaction and a sense of purpose.
Preserving local crafts means embracing a mindset that values longevity, care, and connection over constant consumption. It’s about fostering a deeper understanding of what we have and supporting the crafts and traditions that keep this knowledge alive. By doing so, we create a culture that respects the past and builds a more thoughtful future.
What upcoming projects make you excited right now?
I’m really excited about exploring porcelain, especially its connection to China. I’ve been thinking about creating some porcelain pieces that are less utilitarian and more decorative—kind of a mix of magic and art. I’d love to reinterpret old pieces and give them a more contemporary twist. I also had an idea to create a basket, but for now, that will have to wait.
Where and how can people engage more with your work?
Right now, the best way is through Instagram @hojiceramics. I’ll be sharing more there, and soon, I’ll also be putting my work here. If all goes well, I expect to have some new things available in about three months, and I’ll make sure to keep everyone update
Photos belong to Julia.
Are there aspects of your visual design background that you find integrated into your ceramic work?
Yes, I think this tension is at the heart of much of what I make. It shows up in both subtle and explicit ways. For instance, even when I’m sculpting something that resembles a vertebra, or a coral-like form there’s often a deliberate ambiguity, something that feels real, but not quite.
Some of my recent works involve humanoid, almost android-like figures, neutral, sexless forms that carry a kind of quiet presence. These figures have been recurring in my ceramic tiles, in sculptural pieces, and more recently, even in stone. They’ve become vehicles to explore ideas around the space race, transhumanism and the digital-human experience.
One of the pieces I’ve been thinking about recently blends these android forms with traditional iconography, figures inspired by Hindu deities. It’s a bit unsettling, but also reflective of the times we live in. There’s this emerging idea that AI, which is essentially a sum of all our data and beliefs, might eventually echo back certain parts of our cultural memory, perhaps even amplify things like religion in ways we hadn’t anticipated. It’s strange to consider, but fascinating too, this idea that technology could be a mirror not just of our tools, but of our longing, our spiritual questions, even our myths.
Are there aspects of your visual design background that you find integrated into your ceramic work?
Yes, I think this tension is at the heart of much of what I make. It shows up in both subtle and explicit ways. For instance, even when I’m sculpting something that resembles a vertebra, or a coral-like form there’s often a deliberate ambiguity, something that feels real, but not quite.
Some of my recent works involve humanoid, almost android-like figures, neutral, sexless forms that carry a kind of quiet presence. These figures have been recurring in my ceramic tiles, in sculptural pieces, and more recently, even in stone. They’ve become vehicles to explore ideas around the space race, transhumanism and the digital-human experience.
One of the pieces I’ve been thinking about recently blends these android forms with traditional iconography, figures inspired by Hindu deities. It’s a bit unsettling, but also reflective of the times we live in. There’s this emerging idea that AI, which is essentially a sum of all our data and beliefs, might eventually echo back certain parts of our cultural memory, perhaps even amplify things like religion in ways we hadn’t anticipated. It’s strange to consider, but fascinating too, this idea that technology could be a mirror not just of our tools, but of our longing, our spiritual questions, even our myths.
