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This week, we’re joined by Bhuvaneshwari (Bhuvana) — ceramic artist, fellow chaos enthusiast, and Gauri’s “sister from a different mister” — calling in from her pottery studio in Madikeri (Coorg / Kodagu). Also present: a cat who had just eaten, got the zoomies, and decided to participate in the recording like a tiny furry producer with opinions. And honestly? That’s the energy of this episode: real life, handmade, and pretty cute.
We drift into Bhuvana’s childhood: seed-picking, slide-top daydreaming, the whole world outside just green and alive, stray dogs dressed up with full seriousness, art class as a weekly ritual. It was a childhood where you didn’t “consume” anything, you made, you noticed, you played. And then this memory surfaces: Gauri and Bhuvana cooking tiny chapatis on a candle, like miniature survivalists powered by friendship and curiosity. It’s funny, and sweet, and kind of tells you everything: they’ve always been the type to make meaning out of whatever’s in front of them.
Bhuvana takes us from there into her world — how she moved from painting into clay, and why clay enveloped her soul and refused to let go. She says it so matter-of-factly: clay is forgiving. You mess up, you reshape. You try again. She describes the kiln like it’s Christmas morning — every firing is a parcel, a present. You open it and you’re surprised, sometimes delighted, sometimes humbled. That little sense of the unknown is half the magic.
And then she said something that kind of felt like the whole point of adulthood: Sometimes you make something beautiful, you fire it, and it breaks. And your job isn’t to mourn it forever. Your job is to make another one.
There’s also something powerful about how Bhuvana built her studio. During the pandemic, she naturally turned inwards, started clearing out the life around her and soon enough, an old storage space at home — old books, utensils, the leftovers of family life — and slowly, steadily, turned it into a place where she could create. She bought a kiln. She figured it out piece by piece. She stayed. She made it work. And now she’s out there, shaping mud into objects people will drink tea from which is honestly holy if you think about it.
This episode is like sitting beside someone who’s calm because they’ve learned (through breakage, through practice, through time) that you can always begin again.
If you’ve been feeling a little brittle lately, come listen. We’ll be here - three friends, a studio, a cat, and the reminder that nothing needs to be perfect to be real.
Listen to Episode 3.
Follow Bhuvaneshwari’s work here.
With love, mischief, and kiln-opening energy,
The Dash Sisters
By Dash SistersThis week, we’re joined by Bhuvaneshwari (Bhuvana) — ceramic artist, fellow chaos enthusiast, and Gauri’s “sister from a different mister” — calling in from her pottery studio in Madikeri (Coorg / Kodagu). Also present: a cat who had just eaten, got the zoomies, and decided to participate in the recording like a tiny furry producer with opinions. And honestly? That’s the energy of this episode: real life, handmade, and pretty cute.
We drift into Bhuvana’s childhood: seed-picking, slide-top daydreaming, the whole world outside just green and alive, stray dogs dressed up with full seriousness, art class as a weekly ritual. It was a childhood where you didn’t “consume” anything, you made, you noticed, you played. And then this memory surfaces: Gauri and Bhuvana cooking tiny chapatis on a candle, like miniature survivalists powered by friendship and curiosity. It’s funny, and sweet, and kind of tells you everything: they’ve always been the type to make meaning out of whatever’s in front of them.
Bhuvana takes us from there into her world — how she moved from painting into clay, and why clay enveloped her soul and refused to let go. She says it so matter-of-factly: clay is forgiving. You mess up, you reshape. You try again. She describes the kiln like it’s Christmas morning — every firing is a parcel, a present. You open it and you’re surprised, sometimes delighted, sometimes humbled. That little sense of the unknown is half the magic.
And then she said something that kind of felt like the whole point of adulthood: Sometimes you make something beautiful, you fire it, and it breaks. And your job isn’t to mourn it forever. Your job is to make another one.
There’s also something powerful about how Bhuvana built her studio. During the pandemic, she naturally turned inwards, started clearing out the life around her and soon enough, an old storage space at home — old books, utensils, the leftovers of family life — and slowly, steadily, turned it into a place where she could create. She bought a kiln. She figured it out piece by piece. She stayed. She made it work. And now she’s out there, shaping mud into objects people will drink tea from which is honestly holy if you think about it.
This episode is like sitting beside someone who’s calm because they’ve learned (through breakage, through practice, through time) that you can always begin again.
If you’ve been feeling a little brittle lately, come listen. We’ll be here - three friends, a studio, a cat, and the reminder that nothing needs to be perfect to be real.
Listen to Episode 3.
Follow Bhuvaneshwari’s work here.
With love, mischief, and kiln-opening energy,
The Dash Sisters