About the Artist Wanying Liang: https://shop.wanyingliang.com/pages/about-the-artist
In August 2024, I officially closed the doors to my first ceramic studio—a 600-square-foot converted garage that had been my sanctuary for over five years. It was the space where I created every piece of ceramic art featured in my early videos, including the beginnings of the Woman as Vessel series.
When we first converted that garage, I did not know how long it would hold me. Today, as I settle into my newly renovated 1,100-square-foot studio, I find myself looking back at the footage of packing up that original space. It turns out that everything in life is fleeting, but I remain deeply grateful to have had that room to sincerely document my early journey, question my identity as an artist, and leave behind those initial marks in the clay.
Before we left it for good, the space demanded a proper closing ritual: reclaiming the last of the clay, washing the tools, and sweeping the floors one final time.
The Ritual of Studio Maintenance
Closing a studio meant honoring the materials that made the work possible.
Reclaiming the Clay I have always made it a rule to never waste clay. I soaked all my bone-dry scraps in a large bucket until they fully absorbed the water and broke down into slip.
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The Plaster Slab: I poured this wet slurry onto a thick plaster slab, which naturally pulled the excess moisture from the clay.
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Contamination Prevention: A critical rule I established in that first studio was maintaining strict material separation. I used completely different plaster slabs for recycling porcelain versus my stoneware and earthenware to ensure cross-contamination never ruined the pristine finish of a porcelain vessel.
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The Moisture Box: Once the clay reached the right consistency, I wedged it and stored it in a sealed moisture box. This environment ensured the clay aged with a perfectly even moisture level, which is absolutely vital when building large-scale sculptures.
Cleaning the Tools and the Floor I did not own an excessive amount of tools—just a curated collection of favorites that had accumulated over those five years. I dumped them all into a large bucket of water and washed them one by one. It felt like a form of therapy, washing away the small worries of that era so the tools could enter our next chapter clean and unburdened.
When sweeping the floors for the last time, I followed my standard safety protocol: spraying a light mist of water into the air and across the ground first to prevent hazardous silica dust from rising into the air.
A Tour of the Old Space and Equipment
While that first studio was not perfect, it was incredibly practical, largely due to the custom organization we built into it.
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Custom Woodworking: The space was highly customized. My partner built the majority of my heavy-duty shelving units, which held everything from my raw materials to my finished sculptural works.
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The Glaze Area: We had treated the wooden countertops with a durable varnish to withstand the constant wiping required in a glaze chemistry area. The large 5-gallon glaze buckets sat on rolling dollies below, while smaller test buckets lined the walls.
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The Kiln: The heart of that studio was my Amaco EX270. It was a 7-cubic-foot, top-loading kiln that I bought second-hand. It was a bit old and occasionally required maintenance, but it was incredibly reliable through hundreds of firings. Next to it sat a custom rolling tool stand for my heavy kiln shelves and furniture, making floor cleaning underneath it effortless.
The Pink Room: An Incubator for Ideas
Tucked away in the back was a small room with grayish-pink walls. This was where I sketched, read, and refined my pieces.
The walls were covered in detailed, dimensioned sketches crucial for my large sculptures, alongside material reference notes and inspiration from nature. It was also a space for pure experimentation. I hung experimental pieces there, like extruded porcelain chains that produced a beautiful clinking sound when touched, and delicate clay nets I developed for the "I do not know I am a guest when I dream" series.
Stepping Into the Present
What was once an empty garage was transformed into a bustling utopia. Between moments of profound exhaustion and intense inspiration, I birthed vessels and sculptures that originated intimately from my hands before becoming independent entities.
I witnessed the rosy haze of dawn at 5 a.m. through those garage windows. I watched the pure freedom in my children’s laughter there. All of that has now become memory—a floating bubble at my fingertips, shining unexpectedly when I am close to forgetting.
Looking back at this archival tour reminds me of how far this practice has come. Thank you to everyone who was part of that first chapter, and for continuing this journey with me in the new studio today.
Watch the archival, meditative tour of the old studio on YouTube: [Link to Video]