ISABELLE NOTHOMB

Trained in both art history and theology, I have always approached the world with a contemplative eye. From a young age, I was encouraged to observe both nature and art with careful attention. This practice of looking closely has taught me to capture the smallest details and to sense the delicate balance between form and material. It has awakened a sense of wonder within me, allowing me to experience deep emotions, to be swept up in moments of profound joy and to sense that beyond these tangible beauties there is something greater —something that speaks to the heart and conveys a deeper message.

While my studies in art history provided a solid foundation of references and rigorous criteria to guide my thoughts, my exploration of the Theology of the Arts freed me from certain constraints, enabling my vision to become more personal and attuned to the senses. This fresh perspective, born of the union between knowledge and experience, gave me the courage to express myself through clay — to speak a language that goes beyond words.

By nature pragmatic and efficient, I had never considered art as a potential path for myself, believing that I lacked talent. Yet one day, a phrase resonated within me like a revelation: “Every human being possesses an artistic gift. You must discover it, nurture it and cultivate it. In doing so, you will realise your fullest potential and experience profound joy.”

Ceramics has become this point of convergence, the space where all the facets of my journey come together: patient observation, physical engagement, spiritual exploration and the expression of the imagination. Through stoneware and earthenware, I explore the dialogue between material and time, between accident and repair, between memory and transformation.

My circular works, often marked by cracks, tell the story of evolution. Each fissure becomes an imprint of the process, a metaphor for the inner journey. Rather than conceal these marks, I choose to reveal them: gold, mirrors, glass and zinc accentuate the beauty of the fragmented; the accident becomes a revelation.

Through these fissures, I aim to express the idea that our imperfections, far from being weaknesses, are, in fact, the very forces that shape and transform us. They carry the history of what has been, what has been endured, what has been repaired and reimagined. In this way, ceramics — with their fractured beauty — become a medium through which I can express the dialogue between imperfection and perfection, between fragility and resilience.

Thus, each piece becomes an act of creation, one that, while striving for a certain harmony, fully embraces and celebrates the process of transformation. The material, ever- evolving, mirrors our own inner journey: a voyage where every stage, every rupture and
every repair finds its place in the construction of the self.

As within the depths of our own being, it is at the very centre of the circle that everything converges: both grounding and motion. It strikes me that both humankind and the circle answer each other in their forms and symbols.

In my artistic practice, the circle establishes a constant dialogue between the work and myself. It is both a wholeness to be filled, a work in progress, a movement that propagates and disperses. It grants me access to untapped reserves of imagination, creativity and inner reflection.

As for the earth, it is both a mystery and an inexhaustible source of inspiration. It questions me, challenges me, inspires me and guides me. I do not seek to control it, but rather to meet it at each stage of its evolution. It is a living, pulsating relationship, responding to each gesture, each call, as though an answer yet to come. My creativity comes to life in this mutual exchange.

Much like the clay in the hands of a potter, I do not falter when the earth does not immediately respond to my touch. I persist, seeking to guide it so that it reveals itself in its perfect form. Each circle is unique, unfolding its own narrative, inviting me to listen and honour its singularity. My intent is not to replicate, but to respond with sensitivity to the material, allowing each form to reveal itself in its own distinctive manner, without seeking to duplicate what has already been.

Creative Process

My ceramic work is an exploration of the many facets of clay: earthenware, stoneware and porcelain, each offering its own distinct possibilities and textures.
At each stage of creation, the clay—alive with memory—responds and transforms in accordance with its journey.
A subtle fragility can unexpectedly alter its appearance, revealing an object in an entirely new light.

This delicate metamorphosis imparts a unique character to each piece, where imperfection becomes a source of strength. Every variation, every nuance, enriches the story of the object, bearing witness to the dialogue between the material and the gesture. Rather than hiding these marks, I choose to exalt them, sometimes incorporating gold leaf, fragments of mirror, glass, or zinc. Certain fractures are even emphasised, revealing their unique strength and beauty.

Like humanity, the material bears the marks of its journey, shaped by its experiences. It is in a perpetual state of reconstruction, forever evolving. The clay holds an invisible memory, which it imparts with each firing. Whether at high or low temperatures, each phase alters its texture, colour and lustre. Through this process, I aim to capture this memory, to reveal the story embedded within each piece, and to breathe life into these reactions and accidents.

My works reflect this search: a conversation between material and gesture, between fragility and strength, between accident and creation.

Techniques

The clay used in ceramics arrives as blocks known as "pain de terre". In its wet state, it is malleable and easy to shape, but one must be vigilant to avoid the formation of air bubbles, which could undermine the structure of the piece. The clay, softened by the water it holds, is pliable and can be freely moulded.

As it dries in the air, it becomes stiffer and harder to manipulate, sometimes requiring re-humidification to restore its pliability. Once the object is shaped, the water evaporates slowly and this process must be uniform to prevent cracking. When the piece reaches the right level of dryness, it becomes fragile and brittle, ready for the first firing, known as biscuit firing.

This process transforms the clay into a hard, yet slightly porous biscuit, prepared to receive its glaze. The porosity allows the glaze to penetrate and bond with the surface.

The second firing, following the application of glazes, is crucial to the piece’s completion. The temperature varies depending on the type of clay: stoneware and porcelain require high temperatures (around 1300°C), while earthenware is fired at lower temperatures (around 1080°C). Each layer of glaze affects the shine and visual effects of the surface.

Occasionally, I choose to raise the kiln’s temperature during the first firing to achieve more striking colour effects, although this makes the glazing process more delicate. If the final result does not meet expectations, I am always willing to perform additional firings with new layers of glaze.

Each passage through the kiln carries its own risk, as it may reveal hidden fragilities and alter the clay’s colour, which can range from white to pink, brown or black. The higher the temperature rises, the more the colour evolves, influencing both the pigments and the glazes.
The glazing process becomes a delicate play of subtle hues, an unpredictable interaction between the clay, glazes and heat.

At every stage of creation, the clay—alive and bearing memory—responds and transforms according to its journey.

Between the clay, the glazes and the firing temperatures, the reactions are subtle.

Rather than concealing these marks, I choose to enhance them, occasionally incorporating gold leaf, fragments of mirror, glass or zinc.

The higher the temperature rises, the more the colour transforms, influencing both the pigments and the glazes.