Imferpect Design
Hello Darkness
Handcrafted raku glazed clay light sculptures that provide the comfort of moonlight to illuminate your inner and outer space.
It all started when my son introduced his hamster, Jedi, to our neighbor who, as it turned out, was not only an artist, but also a teacher. She shared her work with me, and I was instantly captivated. I booked my first class with her the following week.
It was a series of incredible coincidences like this that pulled me back to ceramics. A gut feeling led me to ask for recommendations for a pottery table, which brought me to the Spruill Art Center. On a whim, I joined a class—turns out, it was taught by one of the best instructors in the state. Her courses usually fill up immediately, yet there was one last spot waiting for me.
Discovering this supportive studio made me seriously consider starting a business—something that once felt impossible without major investments. Plus, the endless encouragement from peers boosted my confidence in ways that working alone at home never could. It was a now or never moment—the time to push my limits and decide: Could I make art my profession, or would I have to accept it as a hobby and quiet this restless longing? I decided to go for it.
Before that, I wrestled for years with a question that was difficult to define. I grew up in the Eastern part of Hungary, post-Communism, where living from art was unthinkable. My intellectual family encouraged me to pursue a stable career, a structured 9-to-5, which I did—but never truly fit into.
Creativity was always a part of me, and I explored careers that would allow me to express it. I’ve worked as a life coach and mental health counselor, where I helped women free themselves from inherited beliefs. I also taught belly dancing and loved helping my students explore their sensual feminine side. Later, I taught myself portrait photography, where I realised the secret to a good portrait is not only technical knowledge, it’s more the ability to make my clients feel safe and comfortable. Helping women has always been a focal point in my life, and I find great joy in lifting women’s confidence through my work.
Eventually, life circumstances led me to move to the U.S., to Atlanta, where I followed the synchronicities that allowed me to develop my new passion. My first clay piece emerged after a deeply personal birth-group experience. I remember the meditative state I entered while shaping a womb-like sphere. (Even now, I get chills thinking about it!) Pressing against the clay from the inside, it resembled tiny feet kicking in utero. The opening I carved looked like a cesarean scar—the way I was brought into this world. That was the moment I felt an unshakable bond with my art.
Many magical moments followed, and I experience these on a daily basis.
Each time I light up a finished piece in the dark, for instance, I’m met with surprise—until that moment, it’s only been a vision in my mind. The interplay of holes, scratches, and winding LED lights always creates something unexpected. My favorite illuminating creation was a set of mushrooms where the light patterns turned out unexpectedly charming.
There’s a kind of magic in how this specific claywork suits me. I’ve tried other hand-building techniques but lose patience or struggle to get the result I want. Yet with cutouts and perforations, everything seems to just click.
Sometimes, I start with a planned form, but midway, I get a sudden urge to stop. Then I sit, staring at the clay, waiting for it to reveal what it wants to become. That’s how I created my daughter’s cat lamp; it simply shaped itself.
I love problem-solving, finding ways to merge function with design. I often catch myself gazing out the window, mentally rotating a 3D image of a future piece—like my yet-to-be-made light-and-water sculpture or my upward burner idea. And just as quickly as an idea consumes me, it can vanish into the creative void once the problem is solved. Some forms, though, stay with me—I remake them again and again, though I have no idea why. Moons are one of these forms.
Since I’ve begun my clay art I’ve been drawn to two types of forms: the simple and minimalistic or those inspired by nature, mostly animals. The moon, for instance, is a perfect match for light. It’s just a circle and a negative circle—simple, yet deeply meaningful. Perhaps my attraction to it stems from my lifelong search for the secrets of femininity…
Raku glazing, with its beautiful unpredictability, never grows old. Colors are a rough guess, influenced by weather, kiln conditions, placement, and even how well the reduction container is sealed. And the feeling of seeing my pieces come to life in the kiln never fades. The thrill—and fear—of pulling a fragile creation from a 1,700°F fire is something I’ll always embrace.
I do not choose my art—it simply comes alive through my hands.
Everything crafted by human hands is perfectly imperfect—or imferpect, as I like to say. Unique and full of soul. As AI and automation increasingly shape the world, these human imperfections become a bridge between people. And since embracing this idea, I’ve found peace with my own imperfections, too. Like scars that need mending, they tell a story.
Clay is the art of the four elements—fire, water, earth, and air—all balanced in the right amount, at the right time. Until a certain point, you can shape, refine, and even undo your work. But beyond that, the transformation is irreversible.
Uncertainty is constant—any piece can break in an instant, no matter how much time or effort went into it. It’s a stark reminder of life’s fragility. To walk this path, you must embrace the process and accept the risk.
I’m captivated by clay’s duality—raw force at first, then the lightest touch. You support it until it stands on its own. These quiet metaphors keep me rooted at my crafting table, shaping not just clay, but thoughts. As an impatient person, I marvel at my ability to persist—to smooth rough surfaces, to work through cracks. It’s deeply satisfying. I hope my art shapes my mind the same way—to stay flexible, to follow where the clay leads, both in art and in life.
FAQS:
What is this offer?
Hello Darkness is my series of moon-inspired handcrafted raku glazed clay light sculptures. Through their different styles and lighting techniques, they each provide a comfortable and comforting glow to your space, creating a calm, cosy environment where you can feel safe to go within.
What is the theme of this series?
My soulful ambient lights remind us that beauty shines through our cracks and imperfections, even in our darkest moments. And when the lights go out—or when we’re going through a rough patch—our inner glow becomes stronger. Darkness is necessary for certain kinds of light to shine through, and my work has taught me to stay flexible and find peace in the fragility of life.
How do you create your work? And what exactly is raku?
I am primarily interested in problem-solving, so each new piece is often a continuation of previous ones or an experiment to explore different approaches. For example, with the moon-inspired pieces, I have experimented with various elements:
The opening of the piece (to allow light in)
Different light sources (bulb, LED strip, or pixie lights)
The necessity and design of a supporting leg (or whether it is needed at all)
The form and size of openings, examining how they shape the light and where negative space becomes overwhelming
The balance between light intensity and visual comfort, avoiding excessive brightness that can be harsh on the eyes
Improving the way the light source is fixed
Exploring surface textures and unique finishes
Each piece presents a challenge that I find both exciting and inspiring. My concept revolves around solving these problems while maintaining both function and aesthetics.
I usually have a vision in mind, but there are moments when progress halts—when the clay refuses to take the shape I imagined, no matter how I try. At those times, I have to stop and listen. Sometimes, after days or even weeks, inspiration strikes, and it feels as though the clay "tells" me what it wants to become. I simply follow my intuition.
This process is particularly evident during the building phase. The challenge here is stabilizing the soft material so it doesn't collapse under its own weight. Later, as the clay dries, it presents the opposite challenge: it becomes durable but difficult to shape or pierce. I navigate a constant back-and-forth between these stages until I reach the right form.
Once the structure is complete, I cut or punch the design. This stage is always daunting—it feels almost painful to "ruin" a perfectly smooth surface with holes or cuts. But the piece needs them, so I take the plunge. It's a delicate balance, knowing when to stop and not overwork the design.
After this, I refine the surface again, smoothing each hole one by one. Then comes the first firing, the bisque stage. This is an irreversible transformation—after this, the ceramic will never be soft again, though it still absorbs water, which allows glaze to adhere.
I usually choose raku firing, partly for the beautiful metallic colors and shine, but also for the instant gratification—I can take my lamp home the same day. The process involves coating the piece with raku glaze and heating it to the desired temperature. Meanwhile, I prepare a container filled with flammable materials like paper or sawdust. Once the glowing hot ceramic is placed inside, the flames ignite, and then I seal the container, cutting off oxygen. This reduction process creates stunning metallic effects in the glaze.
The final step is inserting the light and seeing whether the result matches my imagination—or, as often happens, turns out even better.
I’d love to have one of these Hello Darkness Lamps. How do I know which one is right for me?
I’m delighted to hear that! We can discuss that together through a discovery call. You can schedule that with me by clicking the button on this page that says CLICK HERE TO SCHEDULE A CALL WITH ME.
What would we cover on our discovery call together?
We will look at why this theme resonates with you, why you feel drawn to it, and specifically how it could serve to enhance your daily life. From there, we can see whether or not one of the light sculptures in this series could serve you in that way now or in the future.
What if I want to explore this series, talk to you to learn more about it, but am not ready to invest just yet?
That is what the discovery call is about—for us to explore this series. So regardless of whether you think now or later is better for you to actually invest in a Hello Darkness illuminating artwork, book your call now so we can dive into this together!
What about shipping?
I offer free shipping inside the USA. If you live abroad, please contact me for an estimate.
As for packaging, I use manually shredded paper from my household as padding (this has been the most eco-friendly solution so far!). I pack it into a quality gift box and then I add extra padding before putting it all into another box to prevent any damage.
Did you love your sculpture but broke it?
No problem, just send me pictures of the original along with the broken piece and I’ll do my best to make you a new one. Please note, however, that colors and details will not be exactly the same as raku has an unpredictable nature.
Tell me more about the charity you support.
Sure! I’ve received so much help from others over the years that I feel I need to give back. Tanulj, Teso! which means Learn, Bro! in my native language, is a Hungary-based association that helps children living in poverty participate in summer camps and after-school programs. I donate 10% of all my sales from Hello Darkness to this amazing organization.