CERAMICS THAT TRAVEL THROUGH TIME

Get to know Tamara Al-Issa, the Syrian-Filipino ceramic artist shaping memories through clay.

By: Michelle Salazar

In a world driven by immediacy and an obsession with the future, returning to one’s origins becomes a way to reclaim a sense of humanity within modern culture. Through Solem Ceramics, Tamara Al-Issa proposes exactly that: a pause, a return. Her practice invites us to look back to reconnect with what persists in collective memory.

(Tamara by LOHN OFICIAL in her studio)

The Syrian-Filipina ceramic and pottery artist based in Toronto, Tamara exists within a diasporic experience that deeply reflects her practice. Born in Saudi Arabia, her work is shaped by an ongoing desire to feel closer to home. Nostalgia, for her, is not just an emotion but a philosophy, a way of seeing, feeling, and building meaning through the past.

Her work draws from pre-Hispanic art references across Southeast Asia and North Africa, creating a dialogue between cultures, timelines, and geographies. Each clay piece becomes an act of preservation, a way of keeping traditions alive while establishing an intimate connection with ancestral histories.

In her universe, the past is not static; it is a living space, constantly revisited, reinterpreted, and transformed.

I had the opportunity to speak with her about her project Solem Ceramics, her relationship with sustainability, and how her personal history translates into material.

Below, you can read the full interview.

(Tamara Al-Issa for Nuvo mag)

What is the story behind Solem Ceramics? What led you to start this project?

It began almost accidentally. Before COVID, I was studying Kinesiology while practicing ceramics on the side, doing informal internships at different studios, and learning from mentors who taught me techniques on the wheel. I never intended to pursue it professionally. In my mind, I was going to become a doctor.

But when the pandemic hit, everything shifted. I realized I didn’t want to enter the medical field, and instead, I kept returning to ceramics. It was something I genuinely enjoyed, something that felt natural.

In 2020, I opened my first studio (the one I consider was the most beautiful) It wasn’t meant to be a business; it was simply a space to teach. At the time, there weren’t many ceramic studios, and there was a clear desire for something tactile, for people to work with clay, to create with their hands. I began teaching both kids and adults, building a small, intimate community.

As I started sharing more of my work, interest grew organically. People began connecting with the pieces, and, Solem Ceramicsslowly took shape. I started selling, then exhibiting, and without fully planning it, it became a career.

Was it difficult for you to transition from studying science to pursuing your practice full-time?

Not really, and in many ways, I feel it came from luck. It happened during COVID, when everything slowed down. There was no pressure to perform, no urgency to follow a fixed path. It created space to experiment, to try being an artist without expectations.

The shift was less practical and more internal. Coming from science, there’s a clear sense of purpose, you’re saving lives. Moving into art felt, at first, more personal, even slightly selfish. Creating can feel like something you do for yourself before anyone else. Even if art can be political or meaningful to others, at its core, it often begins as a self-driven process, almost like a way of testing and understanding your own vision.

That tension faded with time. What remains challenging is the instability of the art world. It’s unpredictable, constantly shifting, and difficult to navigate without feeling the pressure to adapt to trends. And at the same time, you don’t necessarily want to follow them, that’s not the point of the work.

Learning how to exist within that space, without compromising your practice, is still an ongoing process.

How would you describe your ceramic style, and how has it evolved over time?

At the beginning, my approach was very pure. I didn’t use color at all, I was focused entirely on the rawness of clay. No glaze, no pigment, just the material in its most natural state. I was drawn to traditional forms, objects my ancestors once made, and I saw my practice as a way of preserving and reinterpreting those histories.

There’s something timeless about these shapes. Vessels like water jars have remained unchanged for centuries because they were perfected long ago. Entering ceramics felt like stepping into an ancient language, and I believed it was important to learn and honor those foundations first.

My early work reflected that, terracotta figures, wine vessels, forms that felt almost archaeological.

Over time, after years of working within that structure, I allowed myself to experiment. I began introducing pigment, shifting away from that initial rigidity. At the start, my process felt almost ideological, very intentional in its restraint. Now, it’s more intuitive. I’ve let go of that strictness and allowed the work to move more freely, following instinct rather than rules.

(Tamara with her Terracota pieces)

Your “Deep Blue” series has become a defining element of your work. How did that blue come to life, was it intentional or a creative accident?

It was an accident. The recipe remains a secret, mostly because I don’t fully know how to recreate it. It just happens.

People often ask if I could teach a course on how to achieve that blue, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It’s instinctive, almost like cooking without measurements, adding a little of this, a little of that, until it feels right. There’s no precision to it, just a sense of knowing.

When I mix it, I rely entirely on intuition. I look at it and think, “this works”, and that’s enough.

Something few people know is that the first piece from her Deep Blue, series was created for her exhibition Barro, at Materia Studio in Mexico City in 2022.

“Barro in Mexico City featured my first ‘blue,’ which looks nothing like the blues I make now. It was so different, the pigment wasn’t as vibrant, it was a very dark blue, almost black.”

(Barro 2022 exhibition for Materia Studio in Mexico City)

Where does your inspiration come from for new collections: people, architecture, or personal experience?

It comes from many places; each collection holds a different origin.

For my most recent series, Characters, I was deeply inspired by Juan Miro. There’s something in the way he approached painting and sculpture, almost as if his works were alive, like beings with their own presence. I’ve always seen ceramics in a similar way.

I live with my work. My studio is part of my daily life, and sometimes I find myself looking at my pieces and wondering, what are they saying to each other when I’m not around? It feels like they each carry their own personality, their own story, even their own voice.

That’s how Characters came to be. I started intuitively, adding legs, giving them posture, letting the forms evolve on their own. Nothing was planned. The pieces began to reveal themselves, almost like they were becoming something, or someone on their own.

( “Characters” Collection by Solem Ceramics)

Shifting into sustainability, what does it mean to you, personally?

To me, sustainability begins with rejecting the obsession with efficiency. That constant need for things to be faster, easier, more convenient it’s what has led us to fast fashion, fast food, and a culture built on disposability.

Efficiency often justifies plastic, single-use materials, and systems that prioritize speed over longevity. So my approach is to move in the opposite direction.

In a way, my practice already exists within that mindset. I work with recycled clay material that has existed for thousands, even millions of years. It carries a sense of continuity, of permanence.

Because of that, I try to live in alignment with what I create. Minimizing waste isn’t a statement; it’s a necessity. Anything else would feel contradictory to the work itself.

How do you integrate sustainable practices into your creative process?

There are different ways it comes into play. On a material level, I recycle clay, which is one of the most natural and inherent forms of sustainability within ceramics.

But more recently, sustainability has become a much more urgent conversation, especially around pigments. Materials like cobalt, for example, are heavily overexploited in places like the Congo. It’s not just about ceramics; these resources are also used in technologies like laptops and phones, which intensifies the impact.

I became aware of this shift almost by accident. I noticed that the pigments I was using started to behave differently, that they weren’t firing the same way. When I traced it back to the source, I learned that the material supply had changed due to overextraction.

That was the moment it became real for me. I realized I didn’t want to contribute to that cycle. So I began transitioning to synthetic pigments. It meant adjusting my process, reworking formulas, and relearning certain behaviors, but it felt necessary.

It’s not perfect, and it’s not always easy, but it’s part of staying conscious of the materials I choose to work with.

You’ve collaborated with sustainability-driven brands like KOTN--how have these partnerships influenced your practice?

Collaborating with brands that prioritize sustainability feels naturally aligned; it creates a shared understanding from the start. It’s less about changing my process and more about working within a space where values already overlap.

Because of that, the creative process feels more fluid. There’s a certain freedom that comes from being philosophically in sync, you don’t have to question intentions, you can just build.

Working with brands like KOTN or Silk & Snow, for example, has been especially meaningful. There’s a mutual sensitivity in how ideas are developed and executed, and a shared awareness around materials and sourcing. It becomes less transactional and more of an exchange, an ongoing dialogue where both sides inspire each other.

In that sense, these collaborations don’t just support sustainable practices, they reinforce them.

(Tamara Solem for KOTN)

What kind of impact do you hope to have through your work? What is your goal with ceramics?

I don’t think I have a fixed goal, and in a way, that is the goal. I try to create without too much structure, without overthinking the business or marketing side of things. I’m not particularly driven by that. What matters to me is making the work and sharing it, then allowing people to respond to it in their own way.

When I focus too much on selling, something shifts; the work loses a sense of honesty. But when I let go of that, it becomes more authentic, and that’s when it connects more deeply.

I think what I want is to preserve that authenticity. Not to follow what the market demands, but to stay close to my own instinct. Interestingly, that’s also when people connect the most, they begin to build their own narratives around the pieces, bringing them into their personal spaces and experiences.

Recently, I shared a series of lamps, and the response surprised me. They were very personal works, yet people found something in them that resonated with their own stories.

You can never fully predict how your work will be received, and I like that. There’s something meaningful in that ongoing exchange between the work, the viewer, and me.

Tamara’s journey within ceramics reflects a profound connection between her creative process and her personal vision. The fusion of her cultural backgrounds becomes materialized in her work, where there is a constant search for a return to what we are, an invitation to embrace our connection to the past within the present, and, through that, to create a new narrative.

THANK YOU TAMARA.