Hand-sculpted clay altar | Winter 2026
A crescent moon drifts through a rose colored sky, its face half dream, half remembrance. Soft clouds curl around it, as if holding it in place. Small stars scatter the space, never quite symmetrical, never too perfect.
This altar is meant to hold small things that matter. Rings, notes, tiny objects that carry emotional weight. Each one is painted by hand and no two are exactly alike. It feels like a pause, a place to set something down gently.
Hand-sculpted clay altar | Winter 2026
A crescent moon drifts through a rose colored sky, its face half dream, half remembrance. Soft clouds curl around it, as if holding it in place. Small stars scatter the space, never quite symmetrical, never too perfect.
This altar is meant to hold small things that matter. Rings, notes, tiny objects that carry emotional weight. Each one is painted by hand and no two are exactly alike. It feels like a pause, a place to set something down gently.
