Awah (AH-wah)
A Resident
Awah
Awah's laughter is a sharp contrast to the stillness of her studio. It rings out like a bell over wet clay, often startling those who visit for the first time. Her hands move quickly—almost too quickly—pressing impressions into the surface of each piece before it has time to object. Where others seek balance or symmetry, Awah seeks emotion: distortion, gesture, texture like wind-stirred water. She claims that every piece is a conversation with the unknown, and she never repeats herself.
She often blends ash and pigment into her glazes, creating unpredictable bursts of color—rose-bloom cracks, emerald blisters, obsidian scales. Some call her work chaotic, but she insists it is only **alive**. She often trades finished vessels for strange seeds, feathers, or woven charms, saying, “Clay gives. It must be fed.” Her shelves are cluttered with offerings others have left in return—tokens pressed into her life like coins into soft earth.
Awah grew up mimicking the Trypillia spiral motifs in sand with her fingers, fascinated by their endless curves. Now, her signature swirl appears subtly in the base of every work. She considers herself a “listener” first and a “maker” second—despite appearances—and her pottery is often shaped by stories overheard, misunderstood, or completely invented in her mind. She calls herself a myth-thief, and her cups are said to trap dreams if left full overnight.
Current Location
Species
Ethnicity
Realm
Professions
Children
Sex
Female
Sexuality
Omnephilic
Other Affiliations
