Carrying Japan in My Hands: A Mother-Daughter Journey Through Clay, Philosophy, and Quiet Inspiration

They say some places don’t just live on maps—they live quietly inside you, like a secret garden you carry in your heart. Japan has been that garden for me. This was my second trip, yet already I’m sketching out a third in my mind—one dedicated purely to pottery, to the slow art that has whispered to me since I first wrapped my fingers in clay.

This journey was extra special—a mumma-daughter pilgrimage, our inaugural annual getaway. Watching my daughter’s eyes drink in the gentle rhythms of Japanese life, the graceful imperfection of a hand-thrown bowl, the delicate ritual of tea served in a vessel kissed by time… It was like seeing the world anew, through her wonder and my reverence intertwined.

From the very first day I picked up clay, I’ve been enamoured with the Japanese way—their pottery isn’t just craft; it’s philosophy made visible. The beauty is not in flawlessness, but in the honesty of each mark, each crack, each uneven glaze. It’s a quiet rebellion against perfection, a celebration of impermanence and patience. Wabi-sabi, they call it: the art of finding beauty in the incomplete and the transient.

This philosophy shaped my own creative journey long before I ever set foot in Japan. I wanted my work to carry that same spirit—to be vessels not just for tea or flowers, but for stories and heartbeats. I wanted my hands to honour the process: the slow coil, the tentative pinch, the imperfect edge that whispers a human story.

Travelling again to the land that inspired this way of making felt like returning home to a voice I’d been listening to all along. Every quiet pottery town, every mossy garden, every tearoom bathed in soft light felt like a lesson in humility and grace. I carried these lessons home in my pockets—folding them into my work at Whistle & Page, weaving them into the texture of each piece I create.

There was the delicate scent of hinoki wood in the air, the soft crackle of a charcoal kiln, the warm weight of a yunomi cup cupped in my hands during a slow afternoon tea. I watched artisans coax beauty from coarse clay, their hands steady and sure, their movements humble yet confident. The subtlety of the glazes, the uneven edges that somehow made each piece more alive—it was everything I’d longed to understand, finally unfolding before me like a secret poem.

Sharing this with my daughter added a layer of magic. She saw not just the beauty but the meaning—how something so fragile can be strong, how patience shapes not only clay but character, how the slow rhythm of making is a meditation on presence. Her laughter in the narrow streets of Kyoto, her quiet awe in a pottery studio tucked away from the world—these moments are etched into my heart as deeply as the grooves in a well-loved bowl.

I hope these moments planted seeds in her, too—seeds of reverence for craft, nature, and the beauty of impermanence.

Our trip was more than travel—it was a thread weaving together past, present, and future. It was a dance of hands and hearts, of stories told in the language of clay.

And as I sit here now, hands still tingling from the memory of cold porcelain, I am filled with gratitude and a renewed sense of purpose.

To make slowly, to make mindfully, to make with love.

To create pieces that carry a little of Japan’s quiet soul—imperfect, intimate, timeless.

And to pass that love on, one muddy fingerprint at a time.

If you’ve ever dreamed of weaving a little Japanese philosophy into your own creative journey, or simply want to share in the quiet joy of making something by hand, I’d love to hear from you.

Where has your creativity taken you lately?
Drop me a message or come say hello at one of my workshops — where we’ll get muddy, slow down time, and maybe, just maybe, find a little magic in the ordinary.

For local friends: Join me for Monday Mud and Mischief or Fire Up Fridays, both running at 10:30 AM for two hours. Details and bookings at whistleandpage.com/workshops-events.

Until next time,
Nawsheen, your friendly homebody artist from Murrumbateman.