2024 biennial North
Queensland
Ceramic Awards

Ruby Yu-Lu Yeh:

Hi, my name is Ruby Yu-Lu Yeh, and I’m the winner of the 2024 North Queensland Ceramic Awards City of Townsville Art Collection Prize. I’d like to talk a little about the work I created.

Of Motherhood began from my own internal insecurities around body image and entering my mid‑30s. I found myself becoming increasingly self‑conscious, especially while observing the women in my life—my mother and friends giving birth, people experiencing miscarriage but not speaking about it, women going through divorce or domestic abuse. I was surrounded by so many different stories and challenges faced by women.

At the same time, I was questioning whether I could have children and take on that responsibility, especially with the medical considerations between my partner and me. These thoughts kept building up. I felt stifled and unsure how to process everything.

So I made an open call on Instagram and created an anonymous message board—accessible through a QR code—for ongoing storytelling. Anyone could contribute. I asked people to share something they might want to say to their mum, to themselves as a mother, or about choosing not to have kids, or having kids and having regrets. I welcomed every perspective, even messages to grandmothers, and reflections on womanhood and the pressures society places on us, especially around caregiving and motherhood.

Reading these contributions helped me process my own feelings. I’m still learning about myself through them. I’m not fully “there” yet, but this project has helped me sit with those uncertainties.

Of Motherhood also draws from Chinese poems and stories about Nüwa, and other writings about womanhood and motherhood. I’ve always felt caught between my Eastern upbringing and Western perspectives, constantly trying to reconcile how I should behave and how I should see myself.

I built the pot slowly, using a meditative coiling process. As I worked, I thought about body image, and the form naturally evolved into shapes reminiscent of soft folds—both comforting and, at times, confronting. It reflected my conflicting feelings: discomfort with my own body, noticing changes in my mid‑30s, feeling anxious about appearance, yet also wanting to embrace these shifts.

I transcribed the anonymous messages, along with Chinese poems about mothers, onto the pot using iron oxide. It was a slow, careful process because any mistake would smudge and couldn’t be cleaned up neatly. Every stroke required presence and intention. Toward the end, the pot became too heavy to hold, so I moved it into my garden to finish the characters.

Before handling it again, I sprayed a clear glaze to protect the text. My kiln was too small, so I rented a larger one and transported the pot—seat‑belted into the car—for both the bisque and glaze firings. I’m incredibly relieved that it survived.

This pot feels special to me because it embodies community and solidarity. It holds the voices of so many women and people reflecting on motherhood, its roles, and its complexities. Somehow, this inanimate object feels alive. Many people have hugged the pot—something I invited viewers to do—and some told me they wrote messages on the board that they could never say to their mother. They felt relieved afterward. Hearing that has been incredibly heart‑warming.

I’m grateful that this pot will now be part of Townsville’s public art collection, where more people can see it and continue contributing to the message board through the QR code. By reading each other’s messages and stories, I hope we can process our uncertainties, body‑image struggles, and personal challenges together.

Thank you so much. I’m still amazed that I won, and I’m deeply grateful.