Dancing with clay
Making a pot is about movement. It does not matter where the process begins: I start with a move. This is inherited from my practice as a dancer, an improviser. I’m not performing a set piece that unfolds according to a plan. Rather, the first move brings the second, and so on, until the dance with clay grows and takes on its own proportions. I don’t interpret something. I do something. I present something.
Making a pot
Creating a series of pots is like a conversation between two friends wherein one subject arises and flows naturally into anther. Various rhythms, images, movements arise and fall during the creative process, leaving open the possibility of chance. Different elements may be involved: the speed of the wheel, the amount of water, one finger, three fingers, a hand or a tool. This is the practice (and challenge) of dancing with clay: to leave open the realm of possibilities while still creating a “vessel”.
Complexity in harmony
I love the complexity and interdependence of nature. A seemingly infinite number of random elements combine in any given space and time to create beauty. There is harmony in complexity; there is chaos in simplicity. This keeps me curious. I work with a vast palette of glazes and an array of organic shapes, delighting in the play of complexity. And sometimes the results are…
Drinking tea
Tea is an act complete in its simplicity. When I drink tea, there is only me and the tea. The rest of the world dissolves. There are no worries about the future. No dwelling on past mistakes. Tea is simple: loose leaf tea, hot pure water, a cup. I inhale the scent, tiny delicate pieces of the tea floating above the cup. I drink the tea, the essence of the leaves becoming a part of me. I am informed by the tea, changed. This is the act of life, in one pure moment, and in this act the truth of the world suddenly becomes revealed: all the complexity, pain, drama of life is a pretense, invented in our minds for no good purpose. There is only the tea, and me, converging.
– Thich Nhat Hanh
About
Born in Montana, raised in NYC and around the world (but mostly France). Years watching dancers learn Merce Cunningham technique, years running around dance studios and theaters, before running away to the mountains. A brief interlude attempting to conquer the mountains — before deciding I was happier looking up at them. My hands found clay, my body found dance again. I’m a pot maker, tea lover, dancer, writer and slightly deranged explorer. Come say hi!