New York-based artist Maya Bartlett shares intimate reflections on the feeling of ‘just right,’ an inexplicable memory with clay, and the rituals of making.

Photographed by dear friend, Bridget Gao.

Can you describe the feeling of a piece when it’s ‘just right’? Is it visual, physical, instinctual?

I find so much of the making process to be a longing for this ‘just right’ feeling. I often don’t quite get there, but a piece has reached its destination, or its limits, and you need to accept it as it is (and I like to think that something that doesn’t feel just right to me, might feel just right to someone else). It is beyond the visual, physical or instinctual. It is all of them and something more.

How do you think about function when shaping a piece? Does utility guide form—or the other way around?

I will always ultimately be guided by form and feeling, but for my functional pieces—which in recent years have mostly been chawan (teabowl) and yunomi (teacup)—thinking about utility is important. As I’m in the final stages of shaping a piece I’m listening to how it feels in my hands. I want the lip of a cup to feel right against my mouth. I want it to have some weight so that it has a presence, but not too much that it’s burdensome to hold. I want the feeling of placing a vessel down and picking it up to be reassuring, comforting, grounding.

What do you reach for—physically or mentally, when you feel disconnected from creating?

I think periods of space and rest are important. I used to get frustrated when I struggled to connect (to myself, is really what’s going on). But these days I let time pass, and if too much time passes I sort of force myself back into it, because a little push is sometimes necessary to find yourself again.

Can you tell us about the first time you worked with clay?

My first meeting with clay was a little miraculous and difficult to explain. I had enrolled in a 6 week wheel throwing workshop after feeling a quiet yet insistent pull towards it. I sat down at one of the wheels, and as the teacher instructed us on how to throw, I stopped listening and went somewhere else (words lack here). I might have even had my eyes closed, but somehow, I threw this perfect little bowl. The feeling was—I think I’ve done this before. Interestingly, after that first bowl I struggled to do it again, and it took me some time to learn.