By TA•MA
We Choose This Life
There are moments in life that look accidental from the outside. But when we look back, none of it feels accidental.
About Us
Marcus grew up between Australia and Italy, between vastness and density, between freedom and history. I grew up between France, Greece, and Chile between languages, between temperaments, between worlds. We both learned early that identity is not fixed. It is layered. Moving countries, leaving a city, falling in love, or even touching clay for the first time. Perhaps that is why we were drawn to each other.
Before TA•MA, There Was Us
This is about who we were before the collections, before the logo, before the name.
There are two of us.
Marcus has always been attracted to branding. Not just brands, branding. The intelligence behind it. The silent architecture of meaning. The clarity. The precision. The power of simplicity.
He can speak for hours about the Nike swoosh and see not just a logo, but how something so minimal can carry so much strength. For him, simplicity is never simple. It is distilled thought.
When I met him, he already had a creative studio. They were animating logos, building identities, constructing communication systems. He was already very switched on in that world, branding, storytelling, structure.
But he was also an actor, and before that, other lives. He has always had many lives. Just like me.
I started as a singer. A musician, very artistic. Very instinctive.
But at some point, you have to make ends meet. So I worked. In fashion. Than in image. Then inside a creative studio in Paris. Then in a model agency, in the talent department. My job was to scout people: musicians, actors, personalities.
I think one of my strengths has always been connection.
Not just connecting with people, but connecting people.
I meet someone interesting and immediately think of someone else they should meet. I like introducing people who “fit.” I like when something grows out of that introduction, when ideas spark between them and energy begins to circulate.
Maybe that’s what I do best. I bring people together.
Growing up in Paris, traveling constantly, living in LA for a while, it widened everything. My network, yes. But more importantly, my references.
We were both always building, just in different languages.
When we met, neither of us knew what story we would write together.
But I knew I was ready to leave Paris.
Branding was not my world. I didn’t want to work in image anymore. I wanted something more grounded.
I left not because we had a plan, but because something in us needed silence.
Moving to Tuscany was instinct. A landscape that slows you down whether you want it or not. A place where time is measured in harvests, not deadlines.
Here, life rearranged itself.
We started a family. We chose a rhythm slightly removed from the urban eccentric pulse. Slower. Closer to nature. Closer to silence.
Becoming a mother changed me. It brought me closer to something essential, something ancestral. It brought me back to the body, to life. It softened me. It strengthened me. It grounded me.
And somewhere in that stillness, I touched clay.
I don’t know why, but from the moment I arrived in Tuscany, I became obsessed with learning ceramics. I struggled to find a teacher. I searched. I insisted. And when I finally found one, I didn’t let go.
It was not immediate mastery, it was obsession. I failed. I tried again. The wheel became meditation, the weight of clay, the repetition, the silence.
I loved it too much.
Clay does something strange, it humbles you, then reveals you.
That obsession led me to open a studio in Cortona: Tuscan Clay Lab. I worked in stoneware. I explored shapes. I became absorbed by tableware, by the ritual of setting a table, by the quiet choreography of objects around food.
But I struggled to find a space that was truly mine. A studio fully dedicated to that practice. So I had to pause.
Still, ceramics never left me.
Marcus and I have always challenged each other creatively.
We have done many projects together — often successful artistically, but not always sustainable economically.
But the dialogue never stopped and I kept telling him:
If I launch myself into a ceramic adventure, I would love for you to do this with me.
At first, ceramics alone did not excite him. But he understood something about objects that I felt but could not yet articulate:
Objects must serve life, beauty alone is not enough.
When the idea shifted, when it stopped being “just ceramics” and became a brand, something clicked. He had spent years thinking about how identity is built. In cinema. In branding. In narrative. How coherence creates trust. How simplicity carries force. How atmosphere shapes behavior without announcing itself.
Ceramics began to make sense not as a hobby, not as craft alone, but as origin. Earth shaped by hand, transformed by fire, placed at the center of the table.
We eat from it. We gather around it. We argue, we laugh, we fall in love around it. It holds our rituals without asking for attention.
Somewhere between his need for coherence and my need for expression, TA•MA began to form, not as a strategy, but as a convergence.
Living here, slightly removed from urban life, sharpened our senses.
We became more attentive to what stays and what disappears, more aware of permanence, more allergic to noise.
Quality over excess, ritual over rush, meaning over trend.
TA•MA was not created in a boardroom.
It grew out of long dinners, children’s voices in the background, conversations about identity, frustration with projects that were creatively alive but economically fragile. It grew out of wanting to build something lasting, something that could carry both our histories and our future.
His international eye, my instinct for connection.
His love of structure, my obsession with clay.
TA•MA is not a pivot, it is a synthesis.
A meeting point between cinema and earth, between branding intelligence and handmade imperfection. Between Australia, Italy, France, Greece, Chile — and the quiet hills of Tuscany where we chose to root ourselves.
TA•MA is not just ceramics, it is a space where all our references meet. Branding intelligence and artistic instinct. Clay and fabric, structure and emotion.
It is the meeting point of everything we have lived so far.
Our many lives, our multicultural roots, our creative backgrounds, our chosen way of living, our family.
And maybe, for the first time, it feels aligned, creatively and commercially.
We are just beginning.
We didn’t just create a brand.
We chose a life and gave it a name.