Sascha Von Reckers | Maker behind Cirque Ceramics
There’s something about the way Sascha Von Reckers speaks about her life that feels like it’s always been rooted in making—whether through sound, clay, or the quiet rituals of home. Born in Sacramento (a detail she shares with a soft reverence, the same birthplace as Joan Didion), Sascha’s path has never been linear, but it has always been guided by instinct. Music was her first language, though she stepped away from it after two years of school, choosing instead to follow a life that unfolded more organically—one shaped by experience, by place, and by the people she’s built it alongside.
In her twenties, she worked in farm-to-table restaurants, where the rhythm of service, seasonality, and care quietly informed the way she would later approach her art. It’s also where she met her husband and creative partner, Mark Shusterman. The two have been building a life together ever since—meeting in 2012, marrying in 2015, and continuing to create side by side in ways that feel deeply intertwined.
Ceramics came into clearer focus for Sascha at Red Rocks Community College, where she began studying the medium in earnest. There, surrounded by open space and the foothills stretching just beyond the kiln yard, she learned the foundations—alongside more tactile, elemental processes like soda and wood firing. Her work didn’t go unnoticed; it was featured on the student exhibition poster, and a piece was selected for the school’s permanent collection. But more than recognition, it was the environment itself that seemed to leave a mark—the kind of place where baby coyotes cross the road and hawks circle overhead, where making feels connected to something much larger.
That same sense of quiet visibility carried into the early days of Still, when a simple moment—Mark sharing an image of his incense setup, scattered with Sascha’s pieces—caught Olivia’s attention. From there, her work found its way into the shop, naturally and without force, like most things in Sascha’s world.
Her practice today feels like an extension of her home life—intimate, collaborative, and ever-evolving. She and Mark have exhibited together before, including a show at Leon Gallery, and are now preparing for a new body of work this June. The upcoming exhibition, set to take place in Olivia’s warehouse space, is imagined as something alive—a multidisciplinary reflection of the life they’ve built together, shaped by shared rituals, objects, and moments.
Sascha’s work carries the imprint of all of it—her hands, her history, her surroundings. It’s earthy, honest, and deeply felt. The kind of work that doesn’t just sit in a space, but quietly shapes the way you move through it.
Floppy Jean in Charley Wash
Can you tell us a bit about your path into ceramics—what first pulled you toward working with clay?
I first started working with clay when I was newly pregnant with my son(now a fiery eight year old). I wanted to explore a new skill and had been interested in trying my hand at ceramics for some time. I think what pulled me towards working with clay is what inspires a lot of people about it- working with a material that literally comes from the earth, learning to make objects for the home that feel deeply personal and getting a bit messy in the process!
Do you remember the first piece you made that felt like yours? What was it?
The first piece(s) that felt like mine was a tea bowl set that I made in the style of Lucie Rie, the fabulous Austrian-born British studio potter who worked throughout the last century. I made them in red clay and glazed them in white and I felt so proud of them!
Your work feels deeply rooted in the earth—your fingerprints present, shaping and leaving quiet traces behind. How would you describe your relationship to the material itself?
I feel like I want to have a poetic response here, but really my relationship with clay is mixed! I sometimes feel deeply connected to clay as a spiritually grounding material capable of soothing life’s hardships big and small, and a vehicle of creative and spiritual transcendence. And then sometimes I see it as simply an unruly wild thing to be tamed, formed into whatever shape I will it to become, slammed onto the wedging table, slapped onto the wheel head, compressed and squeezed.
What does a typical day in your studio look like right now?
So usually, I take my dog for a walk or get a workout in and then dive into my studio practice. I’ve been oscillating between listening to music or a podcast or more recently I’ve been getting into audiobooks. I don’t have running water in my studio, so I fill up a couple of buckets in my house and then tidy up from the day before and mop the floors. Then I choose a form for the day and weigh out my clay. If I’m throwing, I get on the wheel(I have a kick wheel y’all) and bust out as many pieces as I have bats to make. Or at the beginning of the year while it was still winter(or whatever it was this year) I was leaning into the slowness of the season and really just wanted to hand build and pinch small things. In an effort to make a uniform product I would weigh out very specific amounts, like 40 balls of 80 grams or 100 grams and pinch them into different forms.
Wearing the Knot Dress by Renata Brenha, the Mare Necklace and Rene Boots by Rachel Comey.
How has becoming a mother shaped or shifted your creative practice, if at all?
Yeah, I think that because I basically became a mom at the same time that I started working with clay they’re very braided together. One of the lessons I learned on the wheel was to be sturdy, to be the still point and to let the clay move around the shape that I made. You really have to anchor yourself or the clay will push you around. And the same concept applies to motherhood. Kids test their parents constantly and if you can’t be strong in the emotional storm of a toddler(or any age for that matter) things fall apart fast.
In a more tactile way, drawing with my son has been one of the greatest joys of parenting and that has informed some of the designs for my work.
Your home feels like an extension of your work—how do you think about the relationship between the objects you make and the life you live around them?
I guess it all feels like a living process. As our space evolves to suit our lives, my artistic sensibilities also shift and change. I’m always changing something in our living space, rearranging the furniture or painting a room and that will often spark an idea of something I want to make for our home.
There’s something so grounding about ceramics, but also so unpredictable—how do you navigate that balance?
If you want to learn about non attachment, ceramics is maybe the best learning ground. I think the beauty of this medium is that you have to make a lot of work and with a lot of pieces there’s bound to be some heart break but also some gems. It really teaches you to not ride the rollercoaster. Lol I say that and then you should see me when I fire up a glaze kiln. I’m a mess. Ha! It really feels like Christmas morning opening up a kiln. Every time.
What are you currently exploring or curious about in your work?
At the beginning of the year I was just trying to be more disciplined in my studio practice and also only felt like making the smallest things at the darkest time of the year. Since then I’ve been working on larger coiled pieces which has been quite satisfying. I’m really curious about scale at the moment. I’ve done some experimenting with it in the past, like how big a handle can I make for a cup. But right now I’m interested in making objects that take up space and command a space. One of my goals for this year is to make a piece that fills the entire kiln. I’m also continuing my obsession with circles. They’re my favorite shape-they are infinite sided and communicate a sense of wholeness and unity.
I’m also interested in the handmade quality of my work and ceramic art in general. What place does this slow craft hold in a world in which objects can be made cheaply and in abundance and thrown away with the same voracity? It feels like my own quiet rebellion of late stage capitalism. It takes time to make and feels very intimate. But what I’m most concerned with, ever and always, is the feeling of a piece, both the tactile and the emotional feeling it evokes.
Your husband is a musician—do you find that your creative practices influence one another?
I mean I think just knowing that he’s working on his own music and art in his studio next to mine has a subtle influence on my work and vice versa. Our mediums are so different but we both have well developed sensibilities in regard to the other’s chosen artform. Recently, he had a very direct influence on some pieces that I was working on. I think I’ve been more concerned with the decorative and the playful and his aesthetic leans more towards austere minimalism. I ended up using his idea for a handle design for a run of butter dishes. Basically just a flat rectangle that doubles as a foot when the dish is turned over.
What role does ritual play in your life—whether in your work, your home, or your daily routines?
I’ve been thinking more about rhythm than ritual lately. The way we move through the day as a family, the way I move through the day in my work. There’s an arc to a day and arc to a week, season and year.
225's in Electric Blue Lacquer
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What does a perfect day in the studio feel like to you? Music, candles, incense?
An ideal studio day would be lighting some incense(I’ve been liking Garden Party from Oddly Specific, it’s a smoke free incense from Japan), putting on Alice Coltrane’s album Journey in Satchidananda and exploring new forms either coiling or throwing with no preconceived idea of what I’m making.
How would you describe your personal style, both in and out of the studio?
I suppose I’m always seeking a sense of casual refinement. I’m thinking about texture and structure but without trying too hard.
Do you feel like your style has evolved alongside your ceramics practice?
Without a doubt. It’s become a bit more utilitarian out of necessity. But as I’ve matured I like having a masculine moment in an outfit. Half of my outerwear is stolen from my husband.
Working with clay can be beautifully messy—how do you approach getting dressed for a day in the studio?
Sadly, the practical usually wins out. Working with clay is quite physical and clay can be hard on clothes.
Are there pieces you reach for again and again when you’re working?
I love the Fond sweatshirt from Rachel Comey because the sleeves are already a bit cropped and it has a very cozy, lived in feel.
What makes you feel most like yourself, clothing-wise?
I like a bit of imperfection and clothes that have some wear and tear. I like pairing vintage with new pieces.
Is there a tension (or harmony) between wanting to feel expressive in what you wear and needing things to be functional for your role as a ceramicist?
Yes, definitely. Because I work from my home studio I tend to wear whatever I feel most comfortable in. If I were going somewhere I would probably dress with more of an eye for style.
Do you have a favorite “studio uniform”—something that feels both practical and personal?
I have a few work uniforms but my favorite is a coverall from a New York brand, As Ever, that my husband picked out for me in Santa Fe at L’Ecole Des Beaux Arts, this lovely art supply shop that mixes its own watercolor paint in house from natural pigments.
If your work could be experienced as a dinner party, what would it look and feel like—who’s there, what’s on the table, what’s the mood?
It would be a feast! Flowers, candles, wine, charcuterie and cheese plates, salads, stimulating conversation. Old friends and new. Opulent and warm. The table would be layered with ceramic pieces of all heights; platters, pedestal bowls, plateware, serving bowls. There would be my favorite cheese, Brillat-Savarin with cherries, freshly baked bread, bowls of caesar salad covered in finely grated parmesan cheese, perfectly sauteed ribeye. And all would linger for hours.
