I first sat down at a potter’s wheel in Somerville, Massachusetts when I was 11.  Eight years later I left Boston to study art in Chicago, where I began to ask myself a lot of questions: what do I value most in this life, what things are worth creating, what will I leave behind.

In pursuit of answers, I sunk my teeth into every medium I could, from oil paints to yarn to precious metals.  Ultimately though, it was a return to clay and the familiar rhythms of the potter’s wheel that felt like home.  Ceramics became my language for fleshing out the heady questions I so stubbornly insisted on asking myself.  It grounded me, and brought me calm. 

The more intimate my experience with clay became, the more I seemed to learned about myself, including a few truths that continue to inform my artwork today:

my heart craves stillness, wide open spaces, some tangible sense of infinity I can place my hands on

the more like meditation my art practice is, the happier I am

the urge to create is noble and important and always worthy of being explored without hesitation (even in the absence of answers)

I make my work with a reverence for detail and often a quiet nod to functionality.  This is my way of inviting others to draw in a little bit closer, and engage with the pieces I create.  My process is private, meditative and precious, but I am still an object maker.  I want to open up the intimate relationships I forge between myself and these objects, and invite others to step into that sacred space.  I want to make things that are not only profoundly meaningful to me, but that speak to the innate place in all of us that is touched by honesty and beauty.


I  live in Cambridge, Massachusetts in a townhouse by the train tracks.   You might also find me at the Harvard Ceramics Program where I make my art and teach others how to create with clay.

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