My ceramic work comes out of a lifetime of experiences with human relationships and connection. Moving from city to city throughout my adult life, I’ve repeatedly experienced the excitement of forming new bonds and the sadness of watching others loosen or disappear. Some connections have become deeply rooted; others have been brief. That cycle of attachment and impermanence has become central to the way I work.

I experiment with the ways flat, hollow, and voluminous forms relate to one another: how strongly or delicately they connect, how much they rely on each other to keep from falling over, and how they shape the space around them. Some connections in my work are strong and enduring. Separately thrown pieces can become joined so firmly that pulling them apart would change both of them. Others are much more delicate—pieces might simply touch, lean against one another, or be connected in a way that could easily come apart. These lighter connections bring a sense of tension and possibility to the work, allowing the relationships between the forms to remain open to change.

Balance is part of this relationship too. My sculptural forms often need one another for support. I bring pieces together, shift them around, and look for the point where they can hold each other up. Sometimes the balance is solid; other times it feels a little precarious. I’m drawn to that moment when separate forms find a way to stand together while still remaining distinct.

I’m equally interested in what happens in the spaces between the forms. The openings and gaps are created by the relationships between the pieces, and they become part of the sculpture themselves. They allow light and air to move through the work and give the forms room to breathe. The empty spaces are not simply what is left behind; they help determine how the piece feels and how it sits within its surroundings.

Connection, balance, and space are closely tied together in my work. A piece can depend on another form for support while remaining separate from it. A connection can be strong enough to hold while still being capable of changing or breaking. A space can exist because two things come together, rather than because they are apart. These physical relationships between the forms echo the relationships I’ve experienced throughout my life—how we come together, depend on one another, change each other, and sometimes move apart.