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In Ancient Greek, λέξις (transliterated: lêxis) comes from the verb λέγω (lego), meaning "to speak," "to say," or "to gather words."

This blog is a place where I share a few thoughts of mine, reflections, ideas, and moments that feel worth writing down. If you’re interested, I invite you to read, comment, and join the conversation.


Rituals don’t have to look sacred to be meaningful. They live in the small, repeated gestures that give rhythm to our days.Preparing clay, cleaning the table, folding fabric, lighting a candle before beginning work. These moments rarely announce their importance, but they hold quiet power. They form the language through which we live.

In my studio, ritual is what connects thought to action. Before I start, I arrange my tools, clear the surface, press my palms into the clay. The repetition settles me. It reminds me that creation isn’t only about inspiration, it’s also about attention. Every gesture becomes a reflection of how I move through the world: how patient I am, how gentle, how willing to listen.


Our everyday rituals reveal what we value when no one is watching.The way we prepare a meal, the way we fold a piece of cloth, the way we set the table, even when we eat alone, says something about who we are. From the placement of the napkin to the way food is served, each small act carries intention. It’s not about appearance, but about presence. In those moments, we express a quiet respect for ourselves, a recognition that care doesn’t require an audience.


When I work with clay, it mirrors me back. On days when I am restless, it resists. When I am focused, it responds. That dialogue teaches honesty. It shows how inner states find their way into form, how we cannot separate what we make from what we are.


Rituals also reveal our capacity for presence. They show whether we are willing to return to the same gestures, the same materials, the same moments, without boredom, but with curiosity. In a way, they are a practice in seeing: not just what’s in front of us, but what lives quietly within us.


So much of modern life asks us to move faster, to seek novelty, to abandon repetition. But meaning often hides in the ordinary. The way we move through our small routines, with care or indifference, becomes the truest mirror of who we are.


Rituals matter because they shape our attention, and attention shapes our lives. They reveal our values not through words, but through motion. Every day, in the simplest gestures, we are quietly becoming the person we are at our deepest core.


We live in an age of beautiful illusions. With just a few clicks, we can surround ourselves with objects that appear refined, handcrafted, even meaningful. The marketplace is filled with imitations, objects stripped of their origin, culture, and intention, then repackaged to satisfy our craving for beauty at a lower cost.And yes, sometimes we choose them.Not because we don’t care, but because we’re human. Because in certain moments, the need to soothe the senses outweighs the urge to seek depth. It’s an understandable choice, but one that quietly shapes the world around us.


What truths and what compromises do our choices quietly invite into our lives?


Behind every original piece created by an artisan is more than just an object. There is presence. There is story. There is a human being who has invested years, often decades into refining their craft. Someone who has learned not just technique, but patience, ethics, and reverence for both materials and labor. Someone who has spent countless hours testing, failing, reading, researching, until what they offer is not just another product, but a piece of themselves.


These pieces carry a quiet weight:

A respect for materials chosen consciously, safe for the earth and the people who use them.A commitment to methods that respect time, process, and imperfection.A dedication to practices that are lawful, fair, and transparent, ensuring no hand is exploited for profit.A legacy of trial, error, curiosity, and persistence.Because true craftsmanship is earned, not manufactured.



To own such a piece, is not just decorating a space, but more about aligning your inner world with the outer one. You are choosing integrity over imitation. Depth over surface. Meaning over trend.

Yes, the eye is drawn to form. But the heart, if we let it, seeks meaning.And meaning cannot be mass-produced.


So the next time you feel drawn to an object pause and ask:

What does it stand for? Does it honour what I believe in?


If today isn’t the day to invest in something original, that’s okay.Consciousness isn’t about perfection, it’s about awareness.

Stay curious. Honour your desire for beauty, but couple it with thought. Choose with intention when you can.


Because every object we allow into our lives becomes part of our personal landscape. In other words, a quiet reflection of what we believe deserves space in the world.

In the end, the world we build outside ourselves begins with the choices we make within.


Greece has always been a land of earth, fire, and myth. A place where raw clay, shaped by hand becomes something more than just a vessel. Ceramics in Greek culture have never been mere objects. They’ve been storytellers, symbols of daily life, art forms, and sacred relics. For those of us working in clay today, that legacy still speaks probably subconsciously through every piece we make.


In ancient times, ceramics were everywhere. Used for storing oil and wine, cooking, funerary rites, and religious offerings, they were an essential part of daily life. But they were never just utilitarian.

Greek potters and painters transformed these vessels into canvases for myth, legend, and history. Red-figure and black-figure pottery told stories of gods, heroes, and everyday moments. From battles and weddings to athletic contests and symposia.

Even the shapes of pots had meaning. A krater mixed wine and water for gatherings. An amphora stored grain or olive oil. A lekythos held oils for the body, often placed in tombs as offerings. Each form had a role, and its design was as thoughtful as its function.


Ceramics were deeply tied to ritual, birth, marriage, and death. Figurines were offered in temples. A child's toy might be made of terracotta. In this way, ceramics captured the human experience in a permanent, tangible form.

An ancient pot withholds a civilisation , its beliefs, its aesthetics, its humanity.


While modern world is more likely to serve wine from a glass than a krater, the ceramic tradition hasn’t faded , it has evolved. Today, artisans, including myself at KOGEVINA CERAMICS, draw inspiration from this ancient legacy while reinterpreting it for contemporary life.

The earthy reds of Attic clay, the geometric patterns of early Greek design, the harmony of form and function ,these remain powerful sources of influence. But they are not limitations. They are starting points.

In my own work, I try to embrace  this legacy without being bound by it. Some forms echo classical silhouettes, others explore abstract lines, ancient ceramic techniques with a dialogue between past and present taking place.


In a fast-paced, disposable world, ceramics slow us down. They ask us to hold something real.

They connect us to the earth. To our history. To the simple rituals of everyday life. To beauty, usefulness, and the human hand.



Ceramics aren't just part of the past. They're a living tradition , reimagined in every studio, in every kiln, in every hand crafted piece that carries the spirit of craft forward.


With my ceramics I see every object as a small act of cultural memory with a  modern expression. A way to keep the story going.

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