CERAMICs
Latika Nehra
Please share a bit about yourself and your background.
I spent the most beautiful 25 years of my life growing up in India. Born in Jaipur, I lived, worked, and traveled a lot across the country before moving to Germany in 2016 to pursue a Master’s in Design. After completing my degree, I moved to Berlin to work as a Visual Designer and I never left. At first, it was curiosity that kept me here, but over time, I realized it was because I had found a part of myself that had quietly been waiting to be expressed.
In 2020, alongside Design, I was painting and was fairly confident that I was going to forge some creative work of sorts, but I never expected clay to find me. I think many potters know that feeling: a material that speaks to you, that fits into your hands in a way that feels both grounding and inspiring. You just know you’re going to do something with it.
The material is my physical language. It’s shaped me profoundly, not in terms of accolades or recognition, but in helping me come into a clearer sense of who I am. Hard to explain but through this very focused practice, I’ve begun to re-examine the world around me; nature, relationships, and my surroundings in a more intuitive way.
Please share a bit about yourself and your background.
I spent the most beautiful 25 years of my life growing up in India. Born in Jaipur, I lived, worked, and traveled a lot across the country before moving to Germany in 2016 to pursue a Master’s in Design. After completing my degree, I moved to Berlin to work as a Visual Designer and I never left. At first, it was curiosity that kept me here, but over time, I realized it was because I had found a part of myself that had quietly been waiting to be expressed.
In 2020, alongside Design, I was painting and was fairly confident that I was going to forge some creative work of sorts, but I never expected clay to find me. I think many potters know that feeling: a material that speaks to you, that fits into your hands in a way that feels both grounding and inspiring. You just know you’re going to do something with it.
The material is my physical language. It’s shaped me profoundly, not in terms of accolades or recognition, but in helping me come into a clearer sense of who I am. Hard to explain but through this very focused practice, I’ve begun to re-examine the world around me; nature, relationships, and my surroundings in a more intuitive way.
Are there aspects of your visual design background that you find integrated into your ceramic work?
Yes, definitely. My design background continues to influence how I approach my art. Design follows a specific methodology; lots of planning, defining objectives, and finding solutions, while art often feels freer, without as many rules. At first, I saw ceramics as a direct translation of my two-dimensional visual design work into three-dimensional space. But over time, I’ve come to realise that it’s more holistic than that. My approach to sculpture is also methodical. There’s always research, intention, and a sense of responsibility, as I want my work to reflect the current moment and maybe even to resolve something.
Another aspect that probably comes from my design practice is documenting. I write down my thoughts, draw word maps, brainstorm, build narratives, photograph seemingly insignificant details, and over analyse, all the while keeping a record of one’s process. This habit helps me a lot, I can really trace where my inspiration comes from and ‘why’ it’s headed ‘where’. So while my sculptures seem ambiguous to others, it’s all very transparent to me.
How have the landscapes, traditions, and cultural heritage of your upbringing influenced your work? Could you share how growing up in that environment has shaped your approach to ceramics and sculpting?
Where I come from becoming an artist was not so common, art wasn’t considered an acceptable professional path. There are also certain restrictions in India as a woman, so there were a lot of ‘push through moments’ amidst a lot of push backs. I don’t look back on any of it with bitterness. I feel I have this spirit of a ‘seeker’ in me because of those challenges.
Speaking specifically about ceramics, I had an interesting thought while I was in Rajasthan recently, a dry, arid region with vast desert landscapes. I wondered if the unglazed nature of my ceramics might unconsciously reflect the parched, textured environment of my upbringing. Had I grown up in a more cosmopolitan city, perhaps I’d be drawn to glossy glazes that mirror city lights, the frenzy, the flashy, and the gritty. But I feel most at home with natural surfaces. Just a thought!
Can you take us through your process? Do you have any particular rituals that help you dive into it with greater ease and foster a more natural flow?
I think my process moves in phases. There are periods of high creative intensity where I produce a lot in a week or two, and then there are slower moments where things feel more quiet or still. It’s not constant, and I’ve come to accept that rhythm.
More than rituals, I think what has helped me access my work more deeply is a discipline I’ve developed over the years, a clarity that has emerged through solitude, as I’ve shed many distractions, both online and offline. And ironically, sometimes by choosing not to move with the time; with trends, popular shows, current events, e.t.c, you can truly understand your time. In India, solitude is impossible. I learn in an entirely opposite & fascinating way.
Are there aspects of your visual design background that you find integrated into your ceramic work?
Yes, definitely. My design background continues to influence how I approach my art. Design follows a specific methodology; lots of planning, defining objectives, and finding solutions, while art often feels freer, without as many rules. At first, I saw ceramics as a direct translation of my two-dimensional visual design work into three-dimensional space. But over time, I’ve come to realise that it’s more holistic than that. My approach to sculpture is also methodical. There’s always research, intention, and a sense of responsibility, as I want my work to reflect the current moment and maybe even to resolve something.
Another aspect that probably comes from my design practice is documenting. I write down my thoughts, draw word maps, brainstorm, build narratives, photograph seemingly insignificant details, and over analyse, all the while keeping a record of one’s process. This habit helps me a lot, I can really trace where my inspiration comes from and ‘why’ it’s headed ‘where’. So while my sculptures seem ambiguous to others, it’s all very transparent to me.
How have the landscapes, traditions, and cultural heritage of your upbringing influenced your work? Could you share how growing up in that environment has shaped your approach to ceramics and sculpting?
Where I come from becoming an artist was not so common, art wasn’t considered an acceptable professional path. There are also certain restrictions in India as a woman, so there were a lot of ‘push through moments’ amidst a lot of push backs. I don’t look back on any of it with bitterness. I feel I have this spirit of a ‘seeker’ in me because of those challenges.
Speaking specifically about ceramics, I had an interesting thought while I was in Rajasthan recently, a dry, arid region with vast desert landscapes. I wondered if the unglazed nature of my ceramics might unconsciously reflect the parched, textured environment of my upbringing. Had I grown up in a more cosmopolitan city, perhaps I’d be drawn to glossy glazes that mirror city lights, the frenzy, the flashy, and the gritty. But I feel most at home with natural surfaces. Just a thought!
Can you take us through your process? Do you have any particular rituals that help you dive into it with greater ease and foster a more natural flow?
I think my process moves in phases. There are periods of high creative intensity where I produce a lot in a week or two, and then there are slower moments where things feel more quiet or still. It’s not constant, and I’ve come to accept that rhythm.
More than rituals, I think what has helped me access my work more deeply is a discipline I’ve developed over the years, a clarity that has emerged through solitude, as I’ve shed many distractions, both online and offline. And ironically, sometimes by choosing not to move with the time; with trends, popular shows, current events, e.t.c, you can truly understand your time. In India, solitude is impossible. I learn in an entirely opposite & fascinating way.
Your work explores the dialectics of nature, particularly the interplay between the natural and the artificial. In what ways do you challenge or reveal the hidden boundaries between these concepts in your ceramics?
Yes, the act of replicating anything in ceramic inherently artificialises it and yet it can still appear remarkably lifelike. 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 life-size vertebra, a coral-like form, or a large bird-like shape, there’s a deliberate ambiguity where a larger message is waiting to be revealed.
In language, many words exist without a concrete form—like flux, transmutation, emergence, or transcendence. I enjoy the mental and physical act of creation involved in trying to materialize such abstract concepts, which nonetheless feel deeply present in our current zeitgeist.
Where abstraction doesn’t suffice, I turn to visual storytelling. I’ve been creating entire bodies, environments, and their interactions, all beginning from a single unit—an oval shape. These drawings adapt to their surroundings and have recently evolved into android-like figures: neutral, sexless forms that help me explore ideas around the virtualisation of the human experience, the space race, and transhumanism. They recur in my ceramic tiles, in sculptural pieces, and more recently, even in stone, where I’m abstracting them into a new environment, set within the traditional iconography of Hindu deities.
When it comes to the tactile aspect of your work and its connection with your body, how does the hands-on nature impact your overall happiness and well-bEING?
The tactile nature of my work speaks to something essential, not just for me, but maybe for all of us. It taps into a primal instinct, a deep craving for movement, a hand-to-mind connection, and the alignment of thought with action. There are moments in the process that feel almost magical when an idea takes shape, as if nature itself is working through you. Like a breeze passing through your hand and settling into the object, it becomes an exchange of energy, fluid and beautiful. It reminds me of earthing, like walking barefoot on grass that deep, grounding connection. I could never give it up. If anything, I only want to experience more of it, perhaps through newer materials.
Of course, the work can also be very strenuous, sometimes even harmful. The stonework I recently did was particularly intense. The material was quartz, which is highly toxic for the lungs and can cause an irreversible condition called silicosis. So I had to wear heavy industrial gear, masks, glasses, earplugs, and gloves. It felt like I was wrapped in layers just to be able to work. It didn’t feel freeing at all, I felt bound by all that gear but eventually it did become a part of me.
With ceramics, I don’t feel that same level of risk to my health, but over the past years I have developed a strange auto-immune problem that causes my hands to clot when I work with clay in the winters. So there are the pros & cons!
Where do you think the biggest potential lies for preserving important local crafts in the contemporary context?
I was thinking about this a lot, especially after my recent work with stone and learning from traditional craftspeople. Sometimes, I leave those experiences with a sense of guilt. While I’m learning and upskilling myself, I don’t always know how to give back in a way that feels equal. I might create a piece that’s appreciated in global design circles and sells for a much higher value, but it’s so different from traditional forms that it may not resonate with the craftsperson who taught me. As an artist I hope for a true collaboration, creating something together where both sides shape the process. A shared space where questions and conversations flow both ways.
Today there’s an opportunity to use technology to connect people with local crafts. While we’re increasingly isolated behind screens, crafts have the power to bring people back together. Pottery studios, for example, have flourished in recent years because they provide safe, welcoming spaces where people reconnect with the physical world, and with each other. This sense of community is vital for preserving craft in a way that feels relevant today.Finally, handwork itself offers a sustainable path. As automation and AI take over more jobs, people will crave meaningful work with their hands. Local crafts, with their focus on quality, local materials, and thoughtful production, have a big role to play in this shift.
What are you currently working on that excites you?
The most exciting recent project was the stone work I did in India. Working with a new material, learning its nature was a powerful process. I wrote a blog post about it, and if you get a chance to read it, I think you’ll feel the energy of that work too. Those written reflections help me step into my next projects.
Where and how can people engage more with your work?
I do share snippets on Instagram, but I feel some things just need more space, something a blog or website allows. Not everything should be squeezed into a six-second reel. I still try to preserve space for slower, deeper storytelling. And if anyone ever wants to connect beyond social media, I always welcome a message or email.
Thank you. It’s really been a pleasure speaking with you. You're a wonderful interviewer.
You can find Latika at @latikanehra_ and latikanehra.com
Photos by Ardelean Alexandru Cristian.
Your work explores the dialectics of nature, particularly the interplay between the natural and the artificial. In what ways do you challenge or reveal the hidden boundaries between these concepts in your ceramics?
Yes, the act of replicating anything in ceramic inherently artificialises it and yet it can still appear remarkably lifelike. 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 life-size vertebra, a coral-like form, or a large bird-like shape, there’s a deliberate ambiguity where a larger message is waiting to be revealed.
In language, many words exist without a concrete form—like flux, transmutation, emergence, or transcendence. I enjoy the mental and physical act of creation involved in trying to materialize such abstract concepts, which nonetheless feel deeply present in our current zeitgeist.
Where abstraction doesn’t suffice, I turn to visual storytelling. I’ve been creating entire bodies, environments, and their interactions, all beginning from a single unit—an oval shape. These drawings adapt to their surroundings and have recently evolved into android-like figures: neutral, sexless forms that help me explore ideas around the virtualisation of the human experience, the space race, and transhumanism. They recur in my ceramic tiles, in sculptural pieces, and more recently, even in stone, where I’m abstracting them into a new environment, set within the traditional iconography of Hindu deities.
When it comes to the tactile aspect of your work and its connection with your body, how does the hands-on nature impact your overall happiness and WELL-BEING?
The tactile nature of my work speaks to something essential, not just for me, but maybe for all of us. It taps into a primal instinct, a deep craving for movement, a hand-to-mind connection, and the alignment of thought with action. There are moments in the process that feel almost magical when an idea takes shape, as if nature itself is working through you. Like a breeze passing through your hand and settling into the object, it becomes an exchange of energy, fluid and beautiful. It reminds me of earthing, like walking barefoot on grass that deep, grounding connection. I could never give it up. If anything, I only want to experience more of it, perhaps through newer materials.
Of course, the work can also be very strenuous, sometimes even harmful. The stonework I recently did was particularly intense. The material was quartz, which is highly toxic for the lungs and can cause an irreversible condition called silicosis. So I had to wear heavy industrial gear, masks, glasses, earplugs, and gloves. It felt like I was wrapped in layers just to be able to work. It didn’t feel freeing at all, I felt bound by all that gear but eventually it did become a part of me.
With ceramics, I don’t feel that same level of risk to my health, but over the past years I have developed a strange auto-immune problem that causes my hands to clot when I work with clay in the winters. So there are the pros & cons!
Where do you think the biggest potential lies for preserving important local crafts in the contemporary context?
I was thinking about this a lot, especially after my recent work with stone and learning from traditional craftspeople. Sometimes, I leave those experiences with a sense of guilt. While I’m learning and upskilling myself, I don’t always know how to give back in a way that feels equal. I might create a piece that’s appreciated in global design circles and sells for a much higher value, but it’s so different from traditional forms that it may not resonate with the craftsperson who taught me. As an artist I hope for a true collaboration, creating something together where both sides shape the process. A shared space where questions and conversations flow both ways.
Today there’s an opportunity to use technology to connect people with local crafts. While we’re increasingly isolated behind screens, crafts have the power to bring people back together. Pottery studios, for example, have flourished in recent years because they provide safe, welcoming spaces where people reconnect with the physical world, and with each other. This sense of community is vital for preserving craft in a way that feels relevant today.Finally, handwork itself offers a sustainable path. As automation and AI take over more jobs, people will crave meaningful work with their hands. Local crafts, with their focus on quality, local materials, and thoughtful production, have a big role to play in this shift.
What are you currently working on that excites you?
The most exciting recent project was the stone work I did in India. Working with a new material, learning its nature was a powerful process. I wrote a blog post about it, and if you get a chance to read it, I think you’ll feel the energy of that work too. Those written reflections help me step into my next projects.
Where and how can people engage more with your work?
I do share snippets on Instagram, but I feel some things just need more space, something a blog or website allows. Not everything should be squeezed into a six-second reel. I still try to preserve space for slower, deeper storytelling. And if anyone ever wants to connect beyond social media, I always welcome a message or email.
Thank you. It’s really been a pleasure speaking with you. You're a wonderful interviewer.
You can find Latika at @latikanehra_ and latikanehra.com
Photos by Ardelean Alexandru Cristian.
Our selection of Latika ceramics invites quiet contemplation. Hand-built over several weeks, each vessel embodies a philosophy of form—shaping not only space but also our perception of it. These sculptural pieces transcend traditional function, offering an experience that is both personal and expansive. Thoughtfully curated by Crafters of Today, they speak to the essence of craftsmanship and the power of intentional design.
Our selection of Latika ceramics invites quiet contemplation. Hand-built over several weeks, each vessel embodies a philosophy of form—shaping not only space but also our perception of it. These sculptural pieces transcend traditional function, offering an experience that is both personal and expansive. Thoughtfully curated by Crafters of Today, they speak to the essence of craftsmanship and the power of intentional design.
