For Mariah Nielson, the familiar is never static. Mornings begin inside the hand-built Inverness, CA home her father, sculptor JB Blunk, shaped from salvaged redwood in the 1950s. It’s where Mariah now lives, and is raising her own son amid the textures, tools, and stories of her childhood—alongside traded works from friends, artist-made artifacts, and her own growing contributions.
Mariah’s creative life spans many roles: she directs the JB Blunk estate and Blunk Space gallery, curates exhibitions internationally, and recently began carving stone as part of her own evolving practice. We took a road trip to Inverness to visit Mariah, take in the surroundings, and share a conversation about balancing a life of preservation and practice; the work of making room for your own routines; and her morning espresso-and-Bialetti ritual.
I always use Canyon Beachwood espresso and my beautifully patinated Bialetti.
I’m currently living in the Blunk House, the home my father, artist JB Blunk, built by hand in the late 1950s using all salvaged materials. The kitchen has a beautiful view of the Inverness Ridge, Black Mountain and Tomales Bay. Once my coffee is ready I go outside and enjoy the view and the early morning light.
My favorite mug is a brown ceramic cup with a handle, made by our family friend Norma Ashby in the 1970s. Its scale fits perfectly in my hand, and I love the richness and texture of the brown glaze. Norma and her husband, Gordon, were close friends of my parents, and I grew up spending time in Norma’s ceramic studio in Inverness Park. She was self-taught and modest about her work—but incredibly talented.
I recently started carving stones and I’m totally enamored with the material and process. Two years ago, I discovered a stone yard in Desert Hot Springs that changed my life. I had just moved back to the Bay Area from London where I lived for twelve years and was feeling unsteady about the transition. Discovering the stone yard – the work, collection, and off-cuts – of the sculptor Roger Hopkins inspired me to start working with my hands, making furniture and sculpture.
Moving back to the Blunk House, where I was born and raised, has been an intense transition, both a return and a continuation. It’s the place most familiar to me, and now I’m raising my son in the same space where I grew up. Living in the house feels like living inside a sculpture. Within it is my father’s collection: an amalgamation of his own work, pieces he traded with friends, and stones he gathered from local beaches and riverbanks.
Over the years, new layers have emerged: art and artifacts left by visiting artists from the residency I began in 2007, and now, my own contributions. I’m committed to preserving the creative energy my father invoked in the home and studio, and by hosting artists exhibiting at my gallery, Blunk Space, I continue this tradition.
This split for me is developing my own creative practice while still managing my father’s estate and Blunk Space. I have to find a balance between the two.
Coffee, morning cuddles with my son, a ridge hike or run, time carving stone, visiting with an artist working in the Blunk Studio, dinner with friends and family.
I don’t listen to anything while I work. I like to be totally present while carving stone…and emailing. But when I drive, I listen to The Blindboy and Revisionist History podcasts.
Inviting visiting artists and guests to choose a favorite mug from the Blunk House cup nook has become a cherished ritual. Tucked into a corner of the kitchen, the nook holds rows of shelves lined with our ceramic cups—each one unique, each with a story. My father used to take afternoon tea breaks, often in the company of friends, collectors, and curators. “Pick a cup,” he would say, and I remember watching as guests paused thoughtfully before selecting the one that spoke to them.
For painter Jereme Brian Mendez, mornings move at their own pace: ice water, meditation, and a walk through the quiet streets of the Berkeley Hills, where deer roam past and the fog hangs low. His studio hours don’t begin until the light shifts in the afternoon, but those early rituals—quiet, steady, tactile—form the architecture of his day.
Kassandra Thatcher is an LA-based artist specializing in ceramic lighting and sculpture. We recently paid a visit to her Arlington Heights studio to see her in action, and learn more about her story, life and work.
Before she ever touched clay, Zoe Dering worked as a pastry chef: learning to follow her hands, sense heat, and trust intuition. After nearly a decade in professional kitchens, she began taking pottery classes as a way to engage with the world differently...and something clicked. What started as a creative experiment soon became its own kind of calling, and today—from her studio in Sebastopol, CA—Zoe creates ceramic work that blends form and feeling, rooted in curiosity, balance, and personal expression.