I’ve always been a maker.

I began with toilet paper rolls and Kleenex boxes, now I make with clay.  I explore a cherished habit - brewing, drinking, serving tea. Almost always Earl Grey and never made in a mug, always in the pot. Our family teapot had a dark, crusty interior that frightened me as a child.

Now I find tea stains comforting.

I’m finding new ways to look into the teapot:  I cut, I pierce, I remember.  With the creation of each tea set I revisit a specific moment, feeling or thing.  Through these memories I try to establish and define those relationships integral to me. I hold fast to these bonds. Bonds of mutual experience and love, bonds of blood and grief at shared loss, bonds that remain regardless of physical proximity.

I celebrate memories and warm secrets.

Relationships are what drive me; my connections with loved ones are unbreakable and enigmatic.  Through making pots and recalling vessels in use, I begin to understand how objects hold memories and become markers of lived experience. I make to remember, I make to understand and sometimes I don’t know why I make, but if I stop I will never figure it out.

I’ll always be a maker.