Ceramics · Lewisburg, PA
Wheel-thrown, hand-built, and always slightly unpredictable. Pottery that lives between the quiet and the strange.
About
I'm Hannah Tran, a recent Computer Science and Environmental Studies grad from Bucknell, and the maker behind Hannah's Håndværk. I've been practising pottery for four years and teaching it at Bucknell for three.
My work doesn't have one mood. Sometimes it's meditative and spare. Sometimes it's botanical and maximal. Sometimes it's a clay ice skate, because why not. That intersection between unlikely things: hockey and ceramics, code and clay, ecology and form, is exactly where I like to live.
The name Håndværk is Danish for "handicraft." It felt right: old-world material, new-world thinking.
Selected work
On intersectionality
I love hockey. I love pottery. For most people these live in totally separate drawers. For me, they've always been the same problem: pressure, timing, feel, and the moment you stop thinking and just move.
The clay skate started as a joke and became one of the most technically demanding things I've ever made. Getting the laces to hold shape, the blade to stay attached, it took way longer than expected. I'd do it again tomorrow.
That's what intersectionality means to me in practice: dragging two things into the same room and seeing what happens when they touch.
How it gets made
The clay doesn't lie-if your hands aren't steady, it tells you. Getting centered is half the work and never fully gets easy.
Opening, pulling, shaping. Each piece gets made twice: once in the head, once with the hands. The wheel is both tool and collaborator.
Carving, sprigging, coiling. Lace details, floral reliefs, horn additions. After the wheel comes the quieter, more personal work.
The kiln is the collaborator I trust the least and love the most. Glaze chemistry is just chemistry until it isn't — then it's magic, or a disaster, or both.
After the kiln




