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Last June, ceramic artist Sharif Farrag set up his first private studio in a former coffee roaster in L.A.’s Fashion District —a space with enough power to run his heat-hungry kilns. His working style is unabashed and fast, like balancing as many grocery bags as you can in both arms. Often bedecked with figurines and broken-off chunks of “failed” pieces, Farrag’s works aren’t always finished when they come out of the kiln.
“The speed of the clay puts pressure on me to make decisions. It’s a perfect recipe for improvisation, for getting things out of me that I don’t necessarily understand—parts of me that I don’t have access to all the time.”
“If I don’t take care of my work, it bites me back. If I start a piece and then I don’t care for it, it just dries. But I never let it go to waste—I break the cool parts off and just fire them separately. And they’ll end up on something one day.”
“My life is at the pace of clay. It makes me feel proud to live a life that is determined by my craft. I’m happy to be involved in a medium that keeps me involved all the time.”
This essay was originally published in Carla issue 35.