Jeremy
Keala
"I hope my ceramics invite people to slow down,
to touch, to sense."
Jeremy Keala, France & USA
Interview
Ceramic Artist – France & USA
Jeremy Keala Burns-Rupp’s work balances discipline and improvisation, weaving together dance, poetry, and breath into the living gestures of clay. For him, creation is less about rigid design than about emergence — a mindful practice of letting go, of seeing what the material itself wants to reveal. This spirit carries into his glazing, where experience and instinct meet. His thick glazes, layered in unpredictable ways, transform each piece into a unique landscape of texture and color. In this exhibition, he presents work inspired by melds Japanese and Chinese influences through a variety of glazing techniques: Shino, with its fiery spectrum from red and orange to creamy whites and golden tones; Oribe, rich in copper and wood ash, shifting from deep greens to vivid reds depending on the fire’s breath; Jun, a pale yet deep blue opalescent glaze; and Temmoku, a glaze saturated in iron, ranging from glossy blacks to subtle crystalline patterns. Each glaze speaks its own language, yet in Jeremy’s hands they are reimagined — not as replicas of tradition, but as living surfaces that echo centuries of tea ceramics while remaining deeply contemporary.
1
You often speak about dance, poetry, and breath as part of your ceramic process. How do these gestures translate into the creation of your tea pieces?
For me, it’s all about improvisation. In dance, I was always drawn to improvisation, and ceramics has become a continuation of that practice. Sometimes I arrive at the wheel with an idea—cups, bowls, a teapot—but I let go of plans once I start. Like in poetry or dance, it’s about being fully present with what’s in front of me, with the clay itself. The work emerges from openness, not strict design. My background in mindfulness and Buddhist practice also feeds this approach: being aware, letting go, and allowing forms to appear naturally.
2
Your work is known for thick glazes and organic forms. How do you choose the form or glaze for each piece?
It’s a dialogue between experience and instinct. On one hand, I’m inspired by ceramics artists such as Dick Lehman (US) whose oni-glazing has pushed the frontiers of layering glazes, and on the other, I’m inspired by the profound complexity of traditional Shino ware. Layering glazes creates endless possibilities: it’s unpredictable, yet guided by years of experience. Based on the shape of a piece, I decide on a foundation glaze—Shino, Oribe, Tenmoku (iron-rich), Jun or wood ash. But once the glazing starts, I often deviate mid-process, adding layer upon layer of glaze just to see what happens. Each choice balances form and surface, planning and spontaneity.
3
Many of your glazes are rooted in Japanese tradition. What do these influences bring to your contemporary pieces?
The names—Shino, Oribe, Jun, Tenmoku—are references to both Japanese and Chinese ceramics, and I’m extremely passionate about rediscovering and understanding these historical glazes. Yet, what inspires me most is less the recipes themselves, and more the respect and work ethic applied to ceramics: the discipline of making pot after pot, day after day, to refine one’s practice. For me, that’s the real lesson—ceramics as a lifelong rhythm of work, patience, and devotion.
4
What kinds of clays do you use, and how do they shape your work?
I mainly work with porcelain from Limoges and a variety of French stoneware clays, which I often mix to find the right balance. Each clay has its own character—some are stiff, some are iron-rich, some are elastic. By combining them, I create bodies that respond well to both my hands and my glazes. While not “local” in the sense of being dug from my backyard, all the clays I use are sourced in France.
5
What is your personal relationship with tea, and does it influence the way you make your pieces?
Tea has been with me since high school—my first love was Taiwanese, and tea was simply part of life. Over time, my relationship with tea deepened, especially through mindfulness practice at Plum Village, where tea is a way of being present. I don’t have a favourite tea; for me, it’s about choosing the right tea for the right moment, season, or person.
When I throw a piece, I’m not thinking of one specific tea but of touch—how the cup feels in the hand, how someone might want to hold it. I hope my ceramics invite people to slow down, to touch, to sense.
6
If someone were to drink tea from your work for the first time, what would you hope they experience?
I don’t want to impose a feeling. My wish is simply that the piece offers an experience—whether through touch, sight, or the way it accompanies the taste and aroma of tea. Sometimes people buy a cup not because they “like” it in the usual sense, but because it stirs something in them, it touches their senses. That’s enough. We all need beauty in our daily lives—especially in something as simple as the cup we drink from.
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