In Christine Cutting’s studio, racks overflow with vessels in various stages of becoming. Clay spins on the wheel as her hands steady it, pressing inward, finding balance. One thumb opens the center; her fingers spiral outward, shaping a bowl that will eventually leave this workshop and enter a dining room, where it becomes part of the meal.
Plating is often discussed in terms of arrangement and garnish. For Christine and the chefs she works with—Zach Geerson of The Silver King Coastal Kitchen and Harold Balink of Harold’s and the forthcoming Vybe Whiskey & Wine—the artistry starts with the plate itself. “When you eat off something handmade, there’s a story there. You feel the time, the hands, the moments of indecision, the sudden rightness of something that’s been worked and worked until it settles into its true form,” says Christine, the force behind the Fort Myers ceramics label C3 Studio Art.
1 of 2
Courtesy Christine Cutting
christine cutting handmade ceramic food bowls home studio
The Fort Myers-born ceramicist started collaborating with restaurants last year, when Zach Geerson of The Silver King Coastal Kitchen reached out for a two-piece vessel for a choreographed tableside reveal.
2 of 2
Courtesy Christine Cutting
christine cutting handmade ceramic food bowls in progress
Recently, she walked into Harold’s kitchen carrying a large, russet-colored pedestal bowl resembling a chambered nautilus washed ashore from the Gulf. She set it on the counter, conversations dipping as staff drifted closer. Harold stepped forward and turned the ceramic slowly, examining its fluted, petal-like rim from one angle, its earthen texture from another. He began composing a charcuterie board out loud—jams here, cheeses there, meats tucked into a curve. In quick, overlapping beats, the chef and ceramicist worked through the table’s footprint, service choreography, how the pedestal allowed room for plates to slide beneath and whether those deep folds would snag sleeves.
As the founder of one of Fort Myers’ first farm-to-table restaurants, Harold opts for local sourcing, craft and a dining experience rooted in place. Christine responds by hand-building his pieces, rather than throwing them on the wheel, using natural hues and organic shapes that echo the honesty of his cooking. “She’s absorbing every detail—who I am, what this place is, what it means,” Harold says. “That comes back to me in color, texture and shape.”
At the table, the effect is immediate. When a server sets down a citrus-cured sea bass with a practiced turn that positions the dish to face the diner, conversation breaks. Christine’s work draws the eye first to the food, then to the plate’s uneven rim. Subtle imprints hint at the many hands behind the meal and introduce a pause before the first bite. “Our goal is to make diners more conscious of how they’re eating, not just what they’re eating,” she says.
Photography by Anna Nguyen
christine cutting handmade ceramic food bowls harolds
Chefs respond to Christine’s vessels, using the curves, recesses and texture as cues for plating. She designed a pedestal bowl for the charcuterie service at Harold Balink’s namesake restaurant, where the folds group cured meats and cheeses, and the height leaves clearance for plates beneath.
Every commission begins the same way—with a conversation and Christine placing herself inside the experience as a diner. She needs to eat at the restaurant, observe the flow of service, speak with the chef, and understand the flavors, colors, and textures of their world. “If I’m going to make something worthy of their artistry, I need to know, viscerally, what makes their food distinct,” she explains. “It’s about capturing them, their energy, in clay.” During the visit, she takes notes on everything from the curve of an artichoke to how the light catches on a pool of demi-glace.
Although she works intuitively, responding to the clay to create narrative-rich objects, her practice is grounded in technical fluency. Christine knows weight affects how a dish is handled, the curvature determines where a sauce settles and material shapes how temperature holds. As she designs, she sketches out dozens of sheets of ideas, including specifications for cutaway profiles, lid mechanics, how a broth will settle and where steam will escape.
Materials are selected for performance and longevity, including high-fire stoneware and porcelain. Some pieces are hand-built, with niches that keep ingredients in place as servers move through dining rooms; others are wheel-thrown with broad, open fields and clean rims. Surface finishes sharpen the presentation. Some pieces are left unglazed, treated only with liquid quartz in order to ensure food safety. A natural finish emphasizes decorative markings within the clay, while matte, satin glazes diffuse glare so plated elements read cleanly. Across both restaurants, the wares echo the aesthetic in Christine’s broader collection of Gulf-coded vases, mugs and light fixtures. Shell-like spirals, driftwood-inspired contours, fossil references and oceanic hues appear throughout, with natural textures and irregularity often pressed into the clay.
1 of 2
Photography by Anastasia Walborn
christine cutting handmade ceramic food bowls zach geerson
At Silver King, she matches Zach’s conceptual approach with expressive, weighty ceramics that focus attention on his composed dishes. Creamy hues, light-reactive glazing and bold silhouettes sharpen the contrast of the chef’s vibrant colors and precise plating.
2 of 2
Courtesy Christine Cutting
christine cutting handmade ceramic food plates in pottery wheel
For Zach’s menus, she likes to use black porcelain as both a grounding and enhancing backdrop to the Culinary Institute of America-trained chef’s plating. She incorporates delicate calligraphic lines to match Zach’s Japanese sensibility, and luminous surfaces to sharpen the edges and colors in his conceptual arrangements. “[The] dish influences the mood,” he says. “Warm, matte plates inspire intimacy; a ribbed and lidded bowl adds drama.”
He reserves Christine’s ceramics for high-impact moments at Silver King’s eight-seat chef’s counter—like the silken chawanmushi, a Florida pink shrimp–laced custard that prompted one of the restaurant’s most distinctive service pieces. When he first approached Christine, Zach knew he wanted a two-part vessel for a striking, tableside reveal. She designed a fitted bowl and lid resembling a sea urchin, its black, porcelain spines nodding to the restaurant’s coastal focus and Zach’s avant-garde tendencies. During the handoff, the chef began describing how he would use it. The custard would arrive inverted in the lid, then he’d flip and open the vessel, the pillowy set easing into place as he poured hot dashi (a Japanese stock) over the top—his choreography completing Christine’s sculpture. “It’s a conversation between my art and his, back and forth, meal by meal,” she says.
She watches as Zach plates onto her forms, observing how he responds to a bowl’s edges, lips and smooth contours. He works vertically rather than spreading outward, stacking elements into narrow footprints and letting negative space center the focus on the food. Sauces are applied lightly at the base, settling into natural recesses, while garnishes are omitted or thoughtfully placed, acting as structural accents rather than decoration.
Photography by Anna Nguyen
christine cutting handmade ceramic food plates harolds
Christine’s dinnerware extends the chef’s artistry while prompting a moment of attention before the meal begins. “When you eat off something handmade, there’s a story there,” she says. “You feel the time, the hands.”
Christine’s work emphasizes use over display—a philosophy stemming from a practice shaped outside the traditional studio path. Though she gravitated toward art early, practical concerns led her into academia, social work and teaching. As her children grew, the space reopened to ask who she was beyond constant caretaking. She wanted to create objects meant to be lived with, not admired at a distance. Clay offered a natural expression. Her early work found an audience through word of mouth and partnerships with local shops, including Dolly Archer.
The process remains slow and exacting. Ceramics move through stages of forming, drying, firing and glazing—any one of which can undo days of work. Christine often works in reclaimed materials, like broken clay from failed pieces or leaves and wood from gardens battered by hurricanes. “The clay never forgets, but it also forgives,” she says. “You can reclaim it, make it new, turn what was broken into something beloved.”
Her restaurant wares serve as extensions of the chef’s artistry, a tactile invitation to approach the meal with attention. “Culinary art and ceramics are both ephemeral and lasting,” she says. “You experience a meal—it ends. But the memory lingers.”