I make pots for the joy of making something with my hands. I work intuitively: the pots I make today respond to the pots I made yesterday, or to those in the last firing. Restlessly, I pursue not perfection but a sense of joy in the materials, so my pots are never perfect, always changing, casually made to leave room for the clay and the fire to have a word in the conversation. I leave fingerprints behind on each pot to remind you when you pick up a cup or a bowl that you are not alone in the world–by touching my work two humans are connecting in that moment, over tea, or soup.
My work is influenced by my life in the North Woods–a life fueled by the sun and trees, rainwater, and human muscle and grit. It keeps my pots simple and earthy, directly connected with the clay, the hand, and the use for which they were created. Besides making pots, I live with my family in our handmade house in a clearing in the woods. We try to live quietly there with our neighbors the mosquitoes, making maple syrup, keeping an orchard, building things, and writing about our experiences in the blog, The Clay Life.