A PIECE OF NATURE, HELD IN FORM
How it began — from a difficult season to a place of creation
Studio Terra MaGi was born during the stillness of COVID.
For years before that, I had kept my mind busy in every way I could — renovating my rented home room by room, reshaping the garden, always finding something new to fix or build so my thoughts wouldn’t return to the harder parts of my past. As a solo mama for more than ten years, raising my two boys — Matteo and Gianluca — on my own, staying occupied became a kind of survival. Movement brought calm. Doing brought peace.
When the world suddenly stood still, all that noise fell away — and the quiet brought a different kind of weight. I needed something grounding, something soothing, something that could steady the mind the way renovation once had.
So I reached for a simple DIY terrazzo resin kit.
It helped for a moment, but something felt off. The resin was light, plasticky, almost artificial. The colours looked flat, without depth or soul. It felt nothing like the material I loved — nothing like stone, earth, or anything real.
Still… it lit a spark.
What began as a small distraction became years of searching for the traditional way of making terrazzo — the old method, the honest method, the one shaped from marble, cement, pigment, water, and time. It was a long path of trying, failing, starting again, learning through every misstep. Falling and getting back up, piece by piece.
And then, eventually, the pieces fit.
The moment I made terrazzo the way it was meant to be — heavy, natural, imperfect, full of quiet character — something clicked. Working with real fragments of marble felt symbolic: tiny broken pieces finding their way into something whole, strong, and unexpectedly beautiful.
That was the beginning.
That was when the studio truly took shape.
A life rewritten through craft
Before this studio existed, I had just graduated as a midwife, dreaming of working in developing regions of Africa.
Life, however, had other plans. I faced immense challenges early on, giving birth twice under difficult circumstances and raising both of my sons entirely on my own.
My own dreams had to be put aside to create the stability we needed. The office job I took made sense ; it was practical and necessary … but it left little room for creativity.
Studio Terra MaGi became the place where creativity returned — a space built from resilience, quiet hope, and the desire to create beauty from the pieces life gives you.
It is here, through hands and materials, that broken fragments find new purpose.
This is also reflected in the name: Terra MaGi — a tribute to both the earth (Terra) and my boys, Matteo and Gianluca (MaGi). It celebrates the magic of transformation, of crafting something meaningful and lasting from natural materials, and of finding beauty in fragments.
THE MEANING BEHIND THE NAME
From kitchen table to small home studio
Studio Terra MaGi began in the most humble place: my kitchen table.
For months, I mixed terrazzo by hand next to the sink, cleared space between meals, and let pieces cure beside the stove. It was messy, improvised, and imperfect — but it worked. It was the beginning.
Eventually, the kitchen became too small to hold everything the studio was becoming. I transformed the garage into a dedicated workspace, slowly shaping it into a place where creativity could breathe.
Sanding — the dustiest part of the process — happens outside in the garden.
I am at the mercy of Belgian weather, learning to work with the seasons, with the sun, with the rain. It makes the work slower sometimes, but also more intentional.
A gentle rhythm that feels connected to nature, and to the materials themselves.
Materials & values — choosing what lasts
Everything I create begins with carefully chosen materials. I take this part seriously — not out of trend, but out of conviction.
I source Italian marble, natural French pigments, and European-made components whenever possible. I avoid plastics, wasteful fillers, and anything that feels disposable. Packaging is either plastic-free or fully recycled.
In a world that pushes us toward fast buying and fast throwing away, I choose the opposite.
My pieces are not “quick” or mass-produced.
They cost more than large online shops — and they should.
They are meant to be kept, used, loved, and passed on.
You can feel it the moment you hold one: the weight, the texture, the quality of real materials shaped by a real pair of hands.
I believe in craft that respects the earth.
Objects that age with beauty.
Pieces worth keeping.
A philosophy rooted in slowness