Questions + Answers
Are your ceramic pieces for sale or available for commission?
At this time, my work is not available for purchase through my website, and I am not accepting commissions. I prefer to sell selected pieces through local exhibitions, fundraisers, and occasional markets. My goal is to exhibit in art shows and continue growing at my own pace. This site is meant as a digital gallery—a place to share my creative journey, showcase my pieces, and connect with others who find meaning in my work.
Why do your pieces look so different from commercial ceramics?
My ceramics are intentionally imperfect. I hand-build each piece, which means no molds, no machines—just time, touch, and intention. Marks, irregular edges, and asymmetries are part of the story. They reflect the organic, unpredictable process of making—like nature, like life. I don’t aim for flawless. I aim for honest.
Are your pieces one-of-a-kind?
Yes. Even when I try to recreate a shape I’ve already made, no two pieces are exactly the same. Each form evolves through touch, timing, and the unpredictable magic of firing. That individuality is something I value deeply; each piece becomes its own expression.
Do you have a background in ceramics or art?
Not in the traditional sense. I have a baccalaureate in English and a master's degree in Curriculum and Instruction, and I teach high school English, focusing on writing and rhetoric. I didn’t take a pottery class in high school or college and didn’t touch clay until I was almost 40. It’s been a surprising and transformative path, and I’m living proof that it’s never too late to start something new. Working with clay has taught me that art isn’t about titles or training—it’s about curiosity, persistence, and a willingness to try. If you’re drawn to make something, that’s enough.
How does your art connect to your background in English education?
My background as an English Language Arts teacher influences the way I think about art. In the classroom, I spend my days helping students explore the tensions found in literature, the space between opposing ideas where meaning often emerges. Great stories are rarely about simple answers; they invite us to wrestle with contradictions and complexities. I find myself approaching clay in much the same way. My work often explores the tensions that shape both the natural world and the human experience. I see clay as another language for asking the same questions that literature asks: questions about identity and becoming, resilience and transformation, relationships and community, nature and humanity.