From karaoke culture to clay, Raina Lee shapeshifts across media and meaning—mapping video game worlds, glaze glitches, and desert silences into objects that feel both unearthed and otherworldly.

“Most pottery people love perfection, but I’ve learned to turn glaze defects into an advantage.”

You studied writing, worked in tech, and published a book on karaoke culture – how did ceramics enter the picture?

I happened to live near a ceramics studio in Brooklyn, so I got addicted. Just a hobby turned obsession turned mid-life art career. Would recommend that path for everyone.

Your work often lives somewhere between geology and outer space – how do you think about material versus imagination?

I played a lot of video games as a kid, so I live somewhere between Metroid’s outer space, Super Mario Land, and the California desert. I like to triangulate these into my practice.

There’s a controlled chaos to your glazes. Is unpredictability something you lean into?

My glazes are highly controlled and repeatedly tested. I make most of them myself, but I can't always predict if they'll play well together. That’s the fun – or the disappointment – of glaze: the chaos! Most pottery people love perfection, but I’ve learned to turn glaze defects into an advantage.

You’ve described your approach as “improvised” – how much of your process is instinct, and how much is repetition?

Probably because I'm a goal-oriented gamer or an overachieving Asian, I’ll do whatever it takes to finish a project. Whether it’s through repetition or instinct – usually both – I’ll just go for it, especially if I’ve never made it before. Most everything I do is problem-solving to get something done. I wish I could say it’s whimsical and spontaneous, but ceramics is such a multi-step process, you have to plan. As for what I make – it’s whatever feels most interesting to me at the moment.

“I live somewhere between Metroid’s outer space, Super Mario Land, and the California desert.”

At NADA New York, you presented a series of ceramic postcards – small works with the feel of found relics. What inspired the format, and what kinds of messages were you hoping to send (or receive)?

When I travel, like anyone else, I take a million photos and buy postcards at museum stores. I thought, instead of buying them, I should create my own. You always see glamorous magazine stories on how to travel and where to stay – everything is beautiful and idealized. I wanted to show details of everyday life in Paris that were shocking or weird to me, like the giant chunks of butter at restaurants, or Monet’s garden, which is totally bonkers. Or boxes full of old baguettes left on the sidewalk. Or viewing Chinese porcelains at the Guimet with a friend.

Your treehouse studio is practically mythic at this point. How many times do you think you’ve been photographed in it?!

Far more times than I ever imagined.

Any plans to host a private view soon – treehouse or otherwise? Seems like the perfect setting for a gathering.

I have studio sales during the holidays where you can book an appointment. But it’s a goal of mine to curate a show of tiny works that fit on the treehouse shelves and walls. Each piece would have to be less than six inches! I’d also like to host a tea ceremony where I make up the rules and change them every day. And I may or may not reveal the rules.

What’s a material, technique, or influence you’re curious to explore next?

Just this year I’ve tried weaving, natural pigment-making, natural dyes, embroidery, plein air oil painting, and basketry. I’d like to do more of all of those – except natural dyeing. I also want to write a novel, a murder mystery set in the art world. But I’ll probably just make more ceramic paintings, as much as I like everything else.

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