When we first arrived in Provence, we were looking for a slower rhythm, something closer to the ground, to the seasons, to the quiet beauty of everyday life. We found it here, in a small farmhouse nestled in the village of Auribeau, with windows that open to the Luberon mountains and light that changes gently with the day.

 

Over time, this place shaped our work. We began experimenting with local clays, searching for a raw, rock-like texture that carried the weight of the land itself. What emerged was not just a material, but a way of working that felt deeply connected to this landscape and its stories. Our studio has become a space where process matters as much as outcome, where clay is both material and companion. The fingerprints, the small irregularities, the traces of the hand. For us, these marks tell a story of presence, of time, of the maker’s touch.

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​There is a quiet kind of magic that happens when we stop trying to control. In the studio, it feels like the tighter we grip, the harder it becomes to truly create.  At TerraMea, working with clay is a practice of loosening, of letting go of the need for perfection and learning to trust the process instead.

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This way of working invites slowness, softness, and curiosity. It’s not about flawless technique or a perfect result. It’s about presence. About letting the hands lead, allowing the clay to speak back, and staying open to what unfolds.

We make space for the unexpected, shifts and  small surprises that carry their own kind of beauty.

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TerraMea means “my earth.” It’s a name, but also a reminder: to stay close to what matters. To listen. To feel. To let go. Whether you come for a retreat, a vessel, or a moment of stillness, we hope you feel something of that here.