Photo by Astrid Dahl

What was your main source of inspiration for transitioning from fashion design to ceramics? 

After twenty years of designing in fashion, I found myself between jobs and decided it was the perfect time to allow myself a fully creative moment. Almost on instinct, I signed up for a ceramics class. At my next fashion role, I had the flexibility to continue exploring ceramics and taking more classes, letting clay quietly weave itself into my days. Then came Covid, and I left the city with my family for Upstate—what was meant to be two weeks turned into almost two years. We arrived with two newly purchased boxes of sculptural clay. For the first time in my life, I had both the time and space to experiment—no commute, no deadlines, just my hands and the material. Those two boxes grew into a ten-piece series, and those first silhouettes have since become the core of Lost Quarry’s language.

Reverie Doris Josovitz Shop now >

Solace Doris Josovitz Shop now >

What does a day in your studio look like now that you’re working full-time as a ceramicist?

Every day carries its own rhythm, but there’s a loose framework. My day begins at 6:05—because 6:00 feels too sharp—followed by journaling, inspired by The Artist’s Way. Some mornings I walk my teens to the subway, which often turns into a longer walk for myself, a quiet way to open the day.

I like to begin in the studio early. If I’m working on a new piece, I start by laying down a first layer—something that marks a beginning. Clay demands patience with its endless cycles of starting and pausing to let the layers dry, and I love having that sense of progress before the distractions of life creep in. Often, I work in silence, but sometimes I’ll play playlists curated by friends—sounds that carry me deeper into flow.

Afternoons depend on the project. Some days I wrap by three; other days stretch into the night. I’ve learned that leaving the studio is just as important as being in it—wandering galleries, catching up with friends and other creatives, walking new neighborhoods, or simply noticing small details of the city. Those outside moments feed the inside work.

Do you have any studio must haves? A podcast? Playlist? Snacks? 

• Snacks: raspberries straight from the garden, and soon, figs from our fig tree out back.

• Podcasts: I used to fill my head with news and motivational podcasts until I found Bella Freud’s Fashion Neurosis. Her voice is calm, and her conversations about culture, art, and fashion feel like a companion while I work. I also love checking in with friends and creatives for new podcast and book recommendations.

• Music: playlists from my dear friend @AstridMai, especially the As Ever Jams series for As Ever NYC. 
  
  

Photo by Astrid Dahl

Your new Lost Quarry collection draws inspiration from discarded fragments and overlooked moments in nature: coral on Mexican beaches, wilting flowers. What sparked this exploration? 

I’ve always been a collector of the overlooked—rocks, shells, bits of tile found on the beach, even a braided onion rope I carried home from a grocery store in Italy. My shelves and basement are filled with these quiet treasures. It’s the imperfect, the easily missed, that inspires me. The colors, the odd shapes, the traces of time—these fragments feel alive, and they whisper their way into my forms.

Photo by Astrid Dahl

You mention that working solo in the studio has been one of your biggest challenges in terms of growth. How have you learned to navigate that creative solitude?

Working alone has taught me the importance of weaving connections into practice. I lean on a small circle of ceramicists and fellow creative friends to encourage growth. We exchange silly questions, inspirations, and encouragement. In the beginning, others believed in my work before I could fully see it myself. That generosity helped me grow comfortable with solitude.

I’ve also taken enrichment classes, including ones on natural glazes, and attended talks by more established creatives to keep learning—and to remind myself that countless other artists are quietly navigating similar solitude. It’s less lonely when you remember the collective.

In January, I listened to a live talk at the 92nd Street Y featuring Jennifer Rochlin: Painting on Clay. Towards the end, someone asked her about her path and how she found her galleries. Her response really struck me: “I work alone in my studio, but you need to find your community—take a class, connect with people, and socialize your work.”

That phrase, “socialize your work,” has stayed with me. It means inviting people in, bringing your work to others, sharing, talking, and connecting. Without realizing it, this has become my goal—I want to socialize with my work more.

Lately, I’ve been hosting more studio visits, and I absolutely love it. We sit, drink tea, enjoy tinned goodies, and connect. We socialize with my work, and in doing so, we dream together.

Photo by Astrid Dahl

Haven Doris Josovitz Shop now >

Tender Doris Josovitz Shop now >

You’ve said that handcraft’s value remains irreplaceable in an age of AI and mass production. Why do you think people are drawn to handmade ceramics right now? 

People crave authenticity—pieces that are irregular, tactile, and alive. Lost Quarry pieces carry that intrinsic one-of-a-kind feeling. Sometimes I worry my work isn’t “perfect,” but those qualities are often what people are most drawn to. There’s comfort in knowing no two pieces are ever the same. That uniqueness feels like a kind of value we all need right now.

Your pieces have such a signature look. Beyond ceramics, what other materials call to you? 

Lately, I’ve been working with my partner on wood elements—stand-alone pedestals, end tables, and works of art that can also serve as platforms for Lost Quarry sculptures. I’m fascinated by how different materials can hold conversations with clay. Later, ceramics with found objects and large rocks is a direction I look forward to exploring. One day, I’d love to see some of my designs realized in bronze or silver. Perhaps writing it here is the first step toward making that dream real.

Zora Sculptural Vessel Doris Josovitz Shop now >

Forget Me Knot Doris Josovitz Shop now >

What everyday inspirations transform your art?

I find magic in the overlooked: the slow drift of clouds, gum pressed into sidewalks, shadows created by the wind. Whenever I travel, I head straight for markets. The colors, the textures, the strangeness—the vibrant piles of new vegetables and spices—it often feels richer than any curated shop. These everyday discoveries shape my work more than anything else.

You mention foraging clay during your travels. How does sustainability show up in your practice?

I don’t forage in any formal way, but I can’t resist taking a small handful from a riverbed or cliff when I travel—tiny samples of place, a way to play with imperfection.

Sustainability, for me, is more about mindfulness. I recycle and reclaim every scrap of clay in my studio—I never throw it out. I’m also careful about how I use water. I try to make with intention—not producing just to produce, but ensuring each piece has purpose and presence.

You describe your pieces as “symbols of renewal” that find grace in the lost and discarded. How do you see your work connecting with everyday experience?

The forms often carry echoes of nature, the body, or familiar objects. People recognize something in them, even if they can’t quite place it. That balance of familiarity and strangeness invites comfort—it allows the pieces to feel both intimate and new, like something remembered and reimagined all at once.

SHOP DORIS JOSOVITZ