My earthenware pots are constructed from slabs, built to be your everyday driver. Their straightforward, geometric forms are countered by a paper-like surface and a light-weight feel. I want them to be sturdy yet warm and ephemeral, like the morning paper before it’s unrolled. Word searches, transferred from a screen-printed original, cover the forms with words like “up, down, left and right.” I want the pots to give direction to your day as well as a chance for a bit of play while you sit with your morning coffee.
I sometimes feel that I am granting myself fewer and fewer chances to be in the moment. Between my phone and my email, my mind is stretched thin with all that calls for my attention. The dining room table though - and each plate, mug, and bowl that finds itself there - remains a respite from that kind of distraction and a sanctuary for family, story, and love. I hope that my pottery acts as an invitation to be present and a reminder to engage your senses while tuning in to what’s important.
