Marie Woo

Marie Woo, beloved ceramicist, teacher, and heart‑of‑the‑community, passed gently in February 2026, leaving behind a legacy as rich and textured as the glazes she coaxed from clay. Born on April 3, 1928, Marie grew up in San Francisco’s vibrant Chinatown, where the scent of jasmine tea and the clatter of market stalls taught her early on the beauty of blending tradition with creativity. Her childhood was filled with endless afternoons shaping tiny figurines from discarded porcelain shards, a pastime that would blossom into a lifelong devotion to ceramics. Family was the kiln that fired Marie’s spirit. She married her high school sweetheart, James Woo, and together they raised three lively children—Lena, Michael, and little Maya—who, according to family lore, could never keep their hands out of the studio. Marie’s kitchen table was a makeshift workbench, and every Sunday morning the house hummed with the soft whir of the wheel and the excited chatter of her kids, who proudly displayed their “masterpieces” on the fridge. Those Sunday mornings became a ritual for the whole neighborhood; friends, neighbors, and even strangers would wander in for a cup of tea and a glimpse of her latest vase, each piece bearing the quiet confidence of a woman who believed art could be both functional and deeply personal. Marie’s professional path took her from community centers to university classrooms, where she taught generations of aspiring artists that imperfection could be a source of strength. She spent over four decades at the San Francisco Art Institute, guiding students with the same patience she used to smooth a rough edge. Her studio was always open—doors ajar, shelves crowded with hand‑painted bowls, and a wall of Polaroids documenting every class project. “You’re not just making a pot; you’re shaping a memory,” she would say, and her students carried that mantra into galleries, schools, and homes across the country. Beyond the wheel and the kiln, Marie found joy in simple things: the first snowfall that turned her garden into a white wonderland, the scent of fresh basil in her herb garden, and the sound of her grandchildren’s laughter echoing through the halls. She loved to cook, often inviting friends over for her famous dumpling nights, where the conversation flowed as freely as the tea. Her generosity extended far beyond her family—she mentored local youth, organized free pottery workshops for seniors, and always had a spare seat at her table for anyone who needed a listening ear. Marie