French la Vie

Each piece of pottery Monique shapes is a stanza in clay—her fingers the pen, the wheel/molds her rhythm. Monique doesn’t just make vessels, she write quiet poems that can hold water and time.

Harvested from ancient volcanic deposits, this rich black clay is transformed into a silky slip that my friend, Monique, uses to coat her molds and create her pottery. Once fired, it reveals deep, earthy tones and a natural connection to the landscape.

My friend crafts her own white glaze, which she delicately fires over volcanic slip. The result is a collection of pieces that exude fragility and beauty, each one a testament to the quiet strength of nature and artistry intertwined.

Follow Monique and or see more by looking on her Instagram account Reves d’argile

To take clay, shaping it as Monique does, feeling the smoothness—it’s like finding poetry in motion. Seeing her designs come to life, creating form from dirt and water. It reminds me of how love and life shape us, molding us over time.

“A field of clay touched by the genius of man becomes a castle.” Og Mandino

“You see, a potter can only mold the clay when it lies completely in his hand. It requires complete surrender.” Corrie Ten Boom