Whether it begins with a curiosity about a single object or a location, it always grows from an obsession—an inexplicable urge to make. Sometimes, it means carrying an object in my pocket, studying it daily until, at last, I begin to sculpt, mold, and cast. Recreating its likeness in porcelain, a formerly mundane or everyday object becomes precious, tender, ghostly. Other times, I may visit a site, and the memory of what I saw there haunts me until I can return to it and discover more about it by interacting or collaborating with it, bringing the objects of my labors into a dance with what already existed. In either case, I never fully understand the layers of why I was drawn to that object or that place until I arrive at the end of making and/or installing. It is the journey and the new arrival which reveal the formerly mysterious draw.

Over the past several years, I have developed an intimate relationship with porcelain. Day after day, I handle the material in its fragile, bone-dry state—carving it, sanding it, loading it into kilns. My mind must be focused and my touch must be sensitive. I have come to recognize how this impacts my behavior outside of the studio as well, perhaps even how I exist in the world and among other people. In his book, “The Courage to Create,” Rollo May describes the risks of intimacy. “Like a chemical mixture, if one of us is changed, both of us will be. The one thing we can be certain of is that if we let ourselves fully into the relationship…, we will not come out unaffected.” It is easy to discern that, as an artist, I influence my material—it is changed through my visions and manipulations of it. But it also goes the other way—I am simultaneously affected and transformed by my material.

As I build installations utilizing porcelain objects, I continue to observe a trend in the way people move through these spaces. There is a slowing down, a quieting, a new sensitivity in their motion. Knowing that one is surrounded by fragile objects tends to bring a different type of caution, care, and consideration. I have witnessed individuals enter these spaces in a hurried and tense way, and exit them transformed, calm, quiet, and just a little bit softer and more open. I cannot promise this will be the case for all who enter, but I do know that the possibility exists and the invitation is open to all.

Header photography by: Forest McMullin