Field Notes No. 01: Barro by Lucrecia

September 15, 2026

There is something about entering a maker’s studio that reveals what the finished object can’t: the experiments, scraps, tools, half-finished pieces and hours of work behind what eventually lands on a shelf or table.

For the first of our Field Notes, I visited ceramic artist Lucrecia in her Santa Fe studio to talk about her work, her relationship with clay, and what it takes to sustain a creative practice.

How did Barro by Lucrecia begin?

It started when I wanted to do something that was more accessible for people, and I wanted to use my studio in a different way. I was exhibiting art and doing a lot of other work, but I wanted to go back to clay.

So I started making functional ceramic pieces—teapots, cups, plates—just trying different shapes. I didn’t think it was going to be a business. I was just making them.

People would come to my studio to see my other work, like installations, and they would notice the ceramics. Someone might say, “My daughter’s birthday is coming up. Can you make a teapot like this for her?”

That’s really how it started. People began asking for pieces and commissions, and I kept making them.

I feel very fortunate for that. Santa Fe was very welcoming to me in many ways, and that was one of them.

What do you love about clay?

Everything. I mean, everything. It’s alive.

It’s a material of the earth, and it goes through all the elements—fire, water, earth, air. We work with all of those things and have to balance them in a way that creates what we want.

I love that clay is so susceptible to timing. And at the end, there is this magical transformation when it is fired. It changes slightly and becomes the finished piece, with all the surprises that come with it.

“I love that clay is so susceptible to timing.”

What do people not see when they look at a finished bowl or cup?

The time it takes.

All you see is the finished photo, especially with social media. Everything is so immediate. But that’s why it’s so nice to have a practice of any craft. It slows you down. It calms your nervous system. And you create something unique every time.

Ceramics takes a long time and a lot of attention and care. You’re constantly checking it—how dry is it, how wet is it, what can you do, what can’t you do?

And then there are years of trial and error. If I’m making a commissioned teapot, I’ll usually make two because one might crack during drying or firing. There are hours and hours of work that you never see in the finished piece.

What do you hope people experience when they live with something handmade?

When I hold a cup that I made, or that a friend made, I look at it forever.

Even years later, I look at some of the pottery in my kitchen. There are so many imperfections that are magical. You can get lost in the glaze and the designs.

And then there’s the tactile feeling of it in your hands. I wanted people to receive that—to have that experience too.

What has sustained your practice as a small independent maker?

The relationship with the people who like the pieces is the most important thing.

When someone sends me a picture, I get so happy. There’s a person in California or New York who has this piece on a shelf with their family, and then they ask me to make a birthday gift.

A lot of people talk about that in terms of marketing—which it is—but for me, it’s real. These are real people.

Making the work and having that relationship has sustained my practice and kept the business alive and growing.

Why is working with independent shops and other creative businesses important to you?

I love the collaborative aspect of it. Someone might come to you who wouldn't otherwise come to me. They are coming through you to me.

It’s always nice to know the person behind the shop, to understand their project and what they’re about, and then make pieces for them.

My favorite part is when I know the person and they can say, “I think I’d like this or that kind of thing,” and if I can make it, I really enjoy that.

Shop: Barro by Lucrecia here

What does a good creative life look like to you?

Having the time and the space—ample hours in the day to sit down at the table and create. That is already a luxury.

And then, for me, there is nature. I can step outside under the tree with a book, or let a piece rest and dry. There’s this constant looking at what new flower came up each day on my way to the studio, watering the plants in the morning, the relationship between the garden and the studio.

That’s creative life too.

To me, it’s having the time to create and having this relationship with my plants, the hikes, the landscape—and then the skies.

Last night I was unloading a kiln for a project at sunset, away from Santa Fe, and there was this incredible pink rain falling. You know how it is here—the most beautiful sky.

That, and doing ceramics at the same time, was just perfect.

What is feeding you right now?

One thing is the peace I’m getting from knowing that my mom is doing well, even though she is so far away. There is some relief in knowing that she is taken care of and enjoying this new life that she is getting accustomed to.

And there is this new role for me, as a daughter taking care of my mom. I don’t have children, and now, in reverse, I think every day about some aspect I didn’t understand before about my mom being my mom. There is something about that experience that is making me grow very quickly, out of necessity.

Creatively, I’ve also been writing songs—mainly lyrics—and collaborating with my partner. We’re both busy, so we don’t do it all the time, but sometimes we’ll write three songs in one day. I really enjoy that.

And lately, when I have the time, I’ve been experimenting. I needed that. It feeds me.

The ceramic community is part of it too. It’s so close and collaborative. We all learn from each other.

That’s part of a creative life too.