You don’t expect an archaeologist to become a ceramic artist. But Sarah Ritchie did. After earning a degree in archaeology, she turned away from the path she had prepared for and found herself sitting behind a pottery wheel. What began as an unplanned shift became her life’s work. Her studio, From Hands of SJR, is where clay meets memory, where the ordinary becomes a quiet reminder of the natural world around you.
Ritchie lives and works in Mohkinstsis, Alberta. Her ceramics reflect her background in archaeology—the study of things people leave behind—and her fascination with the unnoticed parts of nature. She doesn’t separate art from the world that shaped it. You see it in every vessel, every mark her fingers leave in the clay. Her work feels old and alive at the same time, as if it belongs both to an ancient story and to your kitchen table.
When you hold one of her mugs or bowls, you feel her fingerprints. You see the slight unevenness that tells you this wasn’t made by a machine. She believes that a handmade object carries connection. It links you to the person who shaped it and to the earth that gave it form. That idea guides everything she makes. “There’s something about holding a cup and being able to see the fingerprints of the maker that turns a functional item into a personal link to those that have touched that item before us,” she writes on her website.
Her inspiration doesn’t come from grand landscapes or glamorous subjects. It comes from bats, moss, and the overlooked creatures that fill the corners of our world. She studies them with a sense of respect, sometimes even affection. She has spent time around maternity bat colonies and once tried her hand at self-taught taxidermy. She talks about fine green teas and Byzantine pottery with the same curiosity she brings to every “ology” she touches. Her mind moves between science and craft, between history and daily life. That curiosity shows in her ceramics.
Each piece feels like a fragment of a story. A cup glazed in deep green reminds you of damp forest soil. A bowl with dark, uneven texture looks like something unearthed from an archaeological dig. She doesn’t aim for perfection; she aims for truth. The clay carries its own voice, and she lets it speak. You can see that in the way she shapes her forms—simple, grounded, honest.
If you love ceramics, you understand how much that matters. A mug isn’t just a mug when it feels like it belongs to a place, a person, or a story. Ritchie’s pieces remind you of that. They ask you to slow down, to notice texture and temperature, to appreciate the way clay holds memory. You don’t just use her ceramics; you live with them.
In a conversation on The Potter’s Cast, Ritchie talked about how she manages her studio—how she tracks numbers, balances creative flow, and stays intentional with what she makes. She doesn’t run it like a business first. She runs it like a living practice. Every piece begins with touch, with clay under her hands, with a thought about nature, history, or care. You can see that focus in how her ceramics feel: alive, not polished to perfection, but grounded in real time and effort.
What makes her work stand out isn’t scale or complexity. It’s attention. You feel it in the weight of her cups, in the balance of her bowls. She doesn’t chase trends or shapes that please algorithms. She follows what feels honest. In her world, a ceramic piece isn’t decoration—it’s a companion. It sits with you quietly, doing its job without asking for notice, until you realize how much presence it carries.
For art lovers and collectors, her work bridges two worlds: craft and narrative. It’s tactile art you can use. It’s also a record of thought, of an artist’s way of seeing. When you buy one of her mugs, you don’t just support a maker. You take home a small piece of her archaeology, her time, her study of overlooked life.
In a time when most things feel temporary, her ceramics remind you to value the slow, the steady, the made-by-hand. They ask you to care about where things come from and who made them. They carry warmth that no factory mold can reproduce.
If you ever find yourself scrolling through her Instagram, you’ll notice that same calm energy in her photos. Pieces rest on wood or stone, bathed in soft light. They look like they’ve always been there. Her captions are quiet, thoughtful, sometimes humorous. She doesn’t sell her work with slogans or urgency. She just shares what she makes and trusts that the right people will notice.
And people do notice. Collectors admire her skill. Viewers connect with her tone. Even those who know nothing about ceramics feel something when they see her work—a kind of stillness, a pull toward authenticity.
That’s what Sarah Ritchie offers: not perfection, but presence. Not design for show, but craft for life. Her pieces hold a kind of honesty that’s hard to find. They remind you that the best art doesn’t always hang on walls. Sometimes, it waits quietly in your kitchen cabinet, ready for morning tea.
When you hold her work, you hold more than clay. You hold time, touch, and the memory of an artist who once studied the past and now shapes the present—one vessel at a time.
Sarah Ritchie : Website | Instagram
Every Artist Has a Story. What’s Yours?
Whether you’re just getting started or have been creating for years, your story matters. At Art Tellers, we share real voices from real artists—what drives you, what you’ve learned, and why you keep going.
This is a space for honesty, inspiration, and connection. No filters. No hype. Just people who love to make things and aren’t afraid to say why.
Want to share yours? Send it to info@arttellers.com. We’re listening.
