Fazy is working the clay, baking it. The speaks about the clay of her country which burns. Fazy models its memory. The fire of her love licks the objects that she is kneading. Clay and fire in the plural.
As a woman and an immigrant, the works that she makes speak of roots and uprooting. She feeds herself from her own life, from the look which is hers “because that’s the way she has lived”. She so much wants to tell the unvarnished truth. She drinks straightforwardly from the spring of her history, or even of her adventures.
All through her personal story, she shapes porcelain, that noble and precious material, to construct a fragile work, springing out from the shadow, suspended between heaven and earth, as though fearing collapse but certain of rising again; as the work moves on, she weaves around us a journey around the world.
Pierre Dailly







































