Handmade Ceramics

The Practice

I spent a majority of my life looking ahead, worrying about what would make me happy or where I needed to go to find it. I eventually realized that the treasure was never out there. It was always right here, in the current moment. In the one I was missing. When you're working with clay, you can't multitask. You can't check your phone, stress about bills, or replay yesterday's conversations. It forces you to focus completely on what is in front of you. In that stillness, something shifts, and you realize how rarely we actually pay attention to what we are doing.

I'm drawn to making functional items: teapots, cups, bowls, and lamps, because everyday objects are so easily overlooked. But I believe the mundane is exactly where meaning lives. There is something sacred about holding a handmade object. It pulls you into the present in a way something mass-produced cannot. That is the connection I am after. The simple recognition that someone made this with their full attention, and now you are holding it with yours.

My work is rooted in earthy stoneware, utilizing glazes that lean toward warm browns, reds, sandy off-whites, and deep blacks. I am especially interested in nerikomi, a Japanese technique of layering colored clays to create organic patterns. The clay is stacked, compressed, sliced, and reassembled, revealing hidden landscapes inside. Because no two pieces can ever be the same, you can guide the process, but you cannot fully control the outcome. It has taught me to work with what emerges rather than fight for what I expected. That lesson extends far beyond the studio; every piece I make is a physical reminder that the best things happen when we stop forcing and start paying attention.