Porcelain
Handbuilt, Wood Fired
“I watch the rhythms and patterns of the natural world and from the four seasons to the almost timeless change of mountain and stone I see shapes and fragments that echo the process of life, death, and rebirth.
With clay I seek to express feelings I don’t often understand—perhaps longings for strength and beauty, the desire to tell a story, or interpretations of numinous dreams that seem like a gift.
My wood fired porcelain and stoneware vessels are hand built from slabs and coils. Bas-relief images on the surface are made from ceramic press molds. These molds are made by pressing clay directly onto any surface I find interesting. After the mold is bisque fired a sheet of clay is pressed to the surface and the result is a copy of the original image. These images on clay are often cut and reassembled in the hopes of telling a small story.
My family moved to Arkansas when I was 13 years old and I was awash in new sensations. New landscapes, new food (oh my, the beans at every school lunch!), people of color, new friends with odd accents, flower gardens burgeoning with flowers and cotton crops stretching for miles.
I moved to Texas almost 50 years ago and again I was surrounded by new sensations and cultural changes that enfold me and seem to move from my fingers to the clay. “
Handbuilt, Wood Fired
“I watch the rhythms and patterns of the natural world and from the four seasons to the almost timeless change of mountain and stone I see shapes and fragments that echo the process of life, death, and rebirth.
With clay I seek to express feelings I don’t often understand—perhaps longings for strength and beauty, the desire to tell a story, or interpretations of numinous dreams that seem like a gift.
My wood fired porcelain and stoneware vessels are hand built from slabs and coils. Bas-relief images on the surface are made from ceramic press molds. These molds are made by pressing clay directly onto any surface I find interesting. After the mold is bisque fired a sheet of clay is pressed to the surface and the result is a copy of the original image. These images on clay are often cut and reassembled in the hopes of telling a small story.
My family moved to Arkansas when I was 13 years old and I was awash in new sensations. New landscapes, new food (oh my, the beans at every school lunch!), people of color, new friends with odd accents, flower gardens burgeoning with flowers and cotton crops stretching for miles.
I moved to Texas almost 50 years ago and again I was surrounded by new sensations and cultural changes that enfold me and seem to move from my fingers to the clay. “