Like so many other potters, I really enjoy making objects that people can hold, care for, and easily use in their daily lives. I like to make pieces that feel good when cradled in one’s hands, that have a pleasing form, and that are just off-beat enough to capture an extra moment’s attention.
I’m an avid vegetable gardener, and every year I’m astounded by the uniqueness of individual plants and their fruits that should have been the same as the ones I grew the year before, but they’re not. The genetic instructions may have been the same, but the winds and the rains and the pests and the sunshine, along with my care or lack of care, have shaped each one so that it’s finally not like anything but itself. Making pots is like that. Each day’s work is different from any other day’s work because the clay has a different moisture content, or the air is dry, or I’m feeling excited or tired or exuberant or dejected. So as with garden plants, each pot I make is some way unlike the others, and it’s a continuously fascinating process to see what’s going to come out next.