I am a ceramic artist devoted to process—years of sustained practice at the kiln, in the studio, and in the patient discipline of craft. My work begins with material attention: clay pushed to its edge, surfaces altered by fire, and forms built through repetition until they become their own language. I return, again and again, to the unity Barbara Hepworth describes—a “perfect unity between the idea, the substance and the dimension”— because that unity is what allows scale to feel honest rather than inflated.

Nature is my ongoing teacher. Immersed in wild landscapes and shifting light, I come back to the studio with a desire to honor what I observe—growth, erosion, quiet resilience, and the beauty that gathers through time. These rhythms shape how I think about proportion, density, and the way a form can carry both stillness and movement.

Many of my installations assemble ceramic spheres with industrial chain, linking individual forms into expansive, suspended fields. Each sphere holds its own presence; together they become a larger system—an image of interdependence, of lives bound through contact and attention. Suspended in space, the work asks the body to slow down and look: light passing through links, shadows stitching across walls, mass made buoyant through balance.

Scale is something I build physically. I assemble and calibrate work at height, attentive to how it holds air, how it changes a room, and how it meets the viewer’s body at human distance. And still, there is always a variable beyond control: the kiln leaves its own signature—atmosphere, ash, heat, time—making every sphere unmistakably singular within the whole.