The Art of Handmade Italian Ceramics: Elisabetta D'Arienzo from Vietri sul Mare
- Jul 4
- 4 min read
Updated: Sep 24
In the coastal town of Vietri sul Mare, nestled along the dramatic cliffs of the Amalfi Coast, ceramics aren’t just craft—they’re heritage. Known as the historic heart of Southern Italy’s ceramic tradition, this town has produced generations of master artisans whose techniques date back to the 15th century. Vietri is a site where tiled facades, terracotta vessels, and vividly glazed forms speak the language of centuries-old artistry.
Among this lineage stands Elisabetta D’Arienzo, a contemporary ceramicist reshaping tradition through a deeply personal lens. Her handmade Italian ceramics fuse storytelling, sculpture into objects that transcend decor. With every piece, she invites you into an emotional dialogue—a tactile expression of Southern Italy’s ceramic culture.
“I like to reread traditional ceramics—old decorations, the forms and colors of traditional pottery from Vietri still speak volumes to me.”— Elisabetta D’Arienzo
Elisabetta’s journey began in her family’s ceramics workshop. After formal training in sculpture at the "Accademia di Belle Arti" in Napoli and Illustration at the "School of Comix", she developed a multidisciplinary practice that blends figurative art, storytelling, and object-making.
Elisabetta works primarily with white clay, crystalline glazes, and third-fire lustres, using each to play with the tension between fragility and permanence. Her sculptural ceramics often reflect on mythology, personal memory, and the sacred qualities of everyday rituals.
Today Elisabetta creates small-batch ceramic objects that embody a departure from mass-market design. “Freeing myself from seriality allows my editions to feel intentional and alive,” she shares.
How did your journey into design and craftsmanship begin?
I started visiting ceramic workshops at a very young age—something quite natural in Vietri sul Mare. Drawing was always central to my life, and I pursued it seriously, studying sculpture at the Academy of Fine Arts and illustration at the School of Comix. Ceramics didn’t come all at once—it grew gradually, becoming the medium that felt most capable of holding the ideas and stories I wanted to express. In many ways, it chose me.
What are your favorite materials to work with, and why?
I love working with white clay, crystalline glazes, and third-fire lustres. These materials offer a certain alchemy—they react unpredictably to heat, and I love that element of chance. White clay gives me a clean canvas to explore contrasts, textures, and luminosity. The way glazes melt and crystallize can feel like watching memories form. It’s poetic.
Is there a philosophy that guides your work?
Definitely. For me, craft is a philosophy as much as it is a practice. I see handmade work as a kind of resistance—against disposability, against uniformity. I try to hold space for tradition, but also for personal voice. My ceramics reinterpret historic symbols in ways that feel emotional, not just decorative.
Is there a piece you're especially connected to?
Yes, the “Capuzzella.” It’s my first ceramic piece and the first to be publicly shown. It’s a skull candleholder inspired by the Neapolitan ritual of the “Anime Pezzentelle,” where people formed a bond with an abandoned skull and cared for it as a spiritual companion. This practice reflects how humans seek connection and meaning through objects—something that’s central to my work.
What does working in small editions mean to you—especially within the world of handmade Italian ceramics?
It liberates me. I don’t have to follow commercial rules—I can create pieces that are more emotionally and conceptually honest. Working in small editions keeps my work grounded in intention, and that’s what makes handmade Italian ceramics so powerful: they carry the weight of time, place, and personal meaning. Each piece is the result of a full process—design, error, reworking, and emotion. That wouldn’t be possible in mass production.
How would you like people to perceive your work?
I’d love for people to sense a kind of intimacy and tension in my pieces—where past and present coexist. When someone brings one of my works into their home, I hope it feels like adopting a fragment of my imagination. It’s a kind of silent dialogue.
How do you decide which technique to use for a piece?
Often the object itself dictates it. I try to stay in dialogue with the idea as it evolves. Sometimes, a sketch or fragment suggests a certain texture, or I’ll imagine how light should move across a surface. It’s intuitive—but also informed by years of training and practice.
What role does tradition play in your creativity?
Tradition is vital. I feel fortunate to be in Vietri sul Mare, where ceramic culture is everywhere—in architecture, in family stories, in the rhythm of daily life. There’s a quiet accountability when you work in a place like this. I’m always learning from other artisans here. Their knowledge is invaluable.
What are you trying to communicate through your work?
My work is about contrasts—fluid versus rigid, figurative versus abstract, sacred versus humorous. Sculpture is like rhythm to me; I repeat forms until they resonate. In illustration, I often reduce the human body to fragments, turning it into a visual riddle that invites personal interpretation.
Do you collaborate with other makers?
Yes, and I find it incredibly enriching. Collaborating requires flexibility, but it also pushes me to discover parts of myself that wouldn’t emerge alone. Whether it’s combining skills or clashing perspectives, the end result often surprises me—and that’s the joy of it.
How has your aesthetic evolved?
My style has become more distilled, more confident. I’ve experimented a lot over the years, and now I can strip away what’s unnecessary to let the emotion come through more clearly. I think every artist seeks that—a balance between instinct and intention.
