Today we’d like to introduce you to Jazzmine Curtis.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
I didn’t grow up thinking I’d be an artist. That wasn’t something I saw modeled around me, at least not in the way the art world usually presents it: galleries, MFAs, studio visits. That version of art felt distant. But creativity was always in me. I’ve always felt pulled toward visual storytelling.
My journey with clay started in the community. I took my first ceramics class at The Bottom in Knoxville, taught by Dr. Maggie Connolly and local artist Jeremy Myles. That space and teachers helped opened something in me. It wasn’t just about learning technique; it felt like a return. Working with clay became a way to reconnect with something ancestral, It felt like a language I had always known but had never been given the chance to speak.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. There have been challenges, rejections, and a steep learning curve especially navigating an industry I wasn’t familiar with. Beyond just making the work, I had to learn how to photograph it, price it, market it, transport it without breaking it, sell it, speak about it publicly, and build systems around a creative practice all while mothering three children, being a partner, working full time, and staying rooted in community work.
But honestly, the hardest battles have been internal. Feeling guilty for pursuing something that’s just for me. Wondering if I belonged. That imposter syndrome hits different when you didn’t come through traditional art spaces. I’ve had to learn to quiet those voices.
And the way I’ve done that is by leaning into community, making even when the doubt shows up, and trusting the clay. When I center myself in the work and let the clay speak, it always reminds me why I started and that I deserve to take up space here and why I need to do the work to push others to do the same. Especially folks coming from marginalized communities.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
I’m a ceramic artist and storyteller. My work lives at the intersection of memory, spirit, and reclamation. I specialize in hand built and wheel thrown vessels that often include carved symbols, layered surfaces, and my own script; a visual language I created to honor histories that have been lost, stolen, banned, or silenced. Much of my work explores ancestral memory and Black Southern traditions. I pull from oral history, dreams, spirituality, and the power of what isn’t always written down.
One of the things I’m most proud of is still in progress: my UNWRITTEN series. It centers the idea that our histories especially in the African Diaspora often survive outside of official records. I draw from African and Diasporic forms like Akua’ba dolls, reliquaries, and water vessels, and layer them with symbols, script, and glazes that carry story further. Each piece holds both personal meaning and collective memory.
What sets my work apart is its intention. I’m not creating just for beauty, but to remember, to reconnect, and to reclaim. I didn’t come into clay through formal education. I came through lived experience, spiritual practice, and community. That gives me a different lens. My work is personal, political, and poetic all at once. Because I’ve taught myself through doing, I’m not bound by traditional rules, cause I don’t know them. That gives me the freedom to create from instinct and vision while staying grounded in craft and community connection.
What matters most to you? Why?
What matters most to me is equity. Real, lived equity that extends far beyond the arts. I care about people having what they need to survive and thrive. That means access to housing, healthcare, education, rest, safety, and opportunity.
Art is powerful, yes, but equity cannot stop at representation in galleries. It has to show up in everyday life. I want to see systems shift so that Black folks, Rural folks, poor folks, queer folks, disabled folks, and people who have been historically shut out are not just included but centered. Not just seen but supported.
In my creative practice, I try to model that by building community, redistributing knowledge, and making space for others. But in my day to day life, I carry those values into how I show up for my family, for my neighbors, and for people navigating systems that were not made for us. Equity is not an idea to me. It is a responsibility.
Pricing:
- $110 2hr private wheel class
- $160 2 hour 2 person wheel class
Contact Info:
- Website: https://JazzmineOchaArt.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jazzmineochaart/#
