Earlier this summer while visiting California, I kept spotting my pottery in my family member’s homes. Every time I caught a glimpse of a piece I had made, my heart jumped a little. Seeing my work existing in these intimate spaces warmed me and threw me a little off balance - a mug stashed in a kitchen cabinet, waiting until morning to be filled with coffee and held; a bowl piled high with fruit on a kitchen counter, a resting place for tomorrow afternoon’s snack; a vase holding dried flowers on a bedside table, the last thing seen as the lights dim each evening. All these pieces, front and center witnesses to lives being lived.
Ever since that trip, as I ideate and create pieces from scratch in my little Brooklyn studio, I think about all the homes my pottery will occupy, the human lives they’ll inhabit, the stories they’ll bear witness to and play part in - what an honor.
Read on about how my heart swells at the thought of sharing my pottery with others, right this way.