Photography: Meg McConville
Join us as we explore the practice of Paige, a Chicago-based artist working across ceramics and material-based mediums. Rooted in an interest in interiors, objects, and 20th-century design history, her work exists between sculpture and function—spanning ceramic vessels, lighting, and furniture that balance restraint with material presence.
With a background in design history and critical theory, Paige eventually turned toward handbuilt ceramics in search of a more tactile and intuitive relationship to making. That sensibility continues to shape her practice today, which has recently expanded to incorporate steel as a way to explore the relationship between structure, material, and form. What began as a practical response to the physical limitations of the kiln has evolved into a broader investigation of how ceramics can interact with furniture and architectural objects. Alongside her studio practice, she also works as a freelance prop stylist for interior shoots, an influence that subtly informs the spatial and functional qualities of her work.
Photographer: Meg McConville
How did you start creating, and how did your relationship with making kind of begin?
I can’t remember exactly when it started, but my mom always had an interest in interiors, and watching her transform rooms my entire life was my entry point into that space. I moved to Chicago at 17 for art school, where I initially focused on design history and critical theory rather than hands-on making. Three years in, I realized I didn’t know how to make anything and felt I needed to figure it out before I left. I started doing hand-built ceramics, fell in love with the medium, and have been going from there.
Photographer: Michael Druce
What made you explore combining ceramic and steel in a functional piece like your cafe chair?
It was primarily due to the physical restraints of the kiln, which is only so big. When I wanted to expand into larger lighting sections and chairs, I had to think of ways to match materials together. I gave myself the constraint that the form itself would be steel with ceramic accents, rather than the ceramic being both the structure and the decoration. There are many technical restraints regarding how things fit together, as it is difficult to get precise holes in ceramics. I don’t consider myself a designer by trade, so I worked with other artists to lightly engineer these things to fit together.
Photographer: Meg McConville
Is there a creative direction or material you feel drawn to but haven’t explored yet?
There are so many that I have to set rules for myself I won’t pick up a new one unless I have a designated amount of time, like two free months, to dive in completely. I tend to get obsessive and struggle with being a beginner, so I want to do the equivalent of masterclasses when I can. I would love to learn cast glass that can be done in a kiln. I have also been incorporating metalworking into my practice for about a year and a half, but it is still very new to me. Metal casting is another thing I am interested in, especially as a way to incorporate more traditional material-based crafts with ceramics.
Are there particular artists or movements that have shaped the way you think about your practice?
A lot of my references still come from my background in 20th-century design history. I’m especially inspired by early modernist female designers like Eileen Gray and Charlotte Perriand, as well as women connected to the Bauhaus movement. I’m really drawn to the balance in their work—there’s a restraint and functionality to it, but also a strong emotional presence that still feels very human.
In terms of more contemporary artists and galleries, there’s a gallery and concept store in Chicago called TK, run by Mary Eleanor Wallace, who has been curating exhibitions there for over a decade. A lot of the work she shows exists in that space between function, object, and sculpture, which really resonates with me.. I’m also very inspired by the curation coming out of Jaclyn Sullivan Gallery. I love how they place contemporary works in conversation with archival and historical design pieces. That dialogue between past and present is something I think about a lot in my own practice as well.
What does your practice look like on quieter or slower days? What do you usually do?
On quieter days, I try to lean into experimentation and exploration. A large part of my practice is production-based, creating made-to-order pieces or work for interior designers—so when things slow down, it’s usually the time when new ideas and new work begin to emerge.
I’ll spend time in the studio testing forms, thinking through materials, or just making without a fixed outcome. Sometimes that process is frustrating because you can spend hours on something and it completely fails, but I’ve learned to see that as an important part of the practice rather than wasted time.
And honestly, if I’m not feeling creatively connected on a certain day, I try not to force productivity. I’ll step away, walk my dog, or just give myself space to think. A lot of my best ideas actually come from those quieter moments.
Do you have any studio must haves? A podcast? Playlist?
It really depends on the day and what kind of work I’m doing. If I’m working through design ideas or trying to think creatively, I usually just listen to music. But when I’m in more of a production rhythm—doing repetitive studio work for long stretches of time—I listen to a lot of podcasts. Working alone in a studio for hours can feel pretty isolating, so I like having that kind of stimulation or background conversation.
Lately, I’ve been listening to a lot of Oklou. She’s a French electronic pop artist, and I really love the depth and atmosphere in her music. It feels immersive in a way that helps me stay focused while I’m working.
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