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On the work

My work explores how functional objects can carry narrative—how vessels used in daily life might carry the deep significance of fine art. Working in clay, I create one-of-a-kind pieces that bridge utility and meaning. The physical form of a piece and illustration and pattern on its surface to operate together, allowing for multiple sites of connection.

Rooted in my experience living in the American West, the imagery in my work draws from landscapes, animals, and moments shaped by ranching and agricultural life. While these references are specific, they point toward something more universal: the rhythms of labor, the act of making a home, and the shared experiences that persist across generations. I am interested in how these themes can be translated onto intimate, functional forms—objects that are handled, used, and woven into everyday rituals.

Clay offers a unique capacity for this kind of relationship to art. Through its responsiveness and variability, it records the presence of the hand—subtle irregularities, shifts in form, and surface variation become part of the object’s language. I work through a balance of intention and surrender, allowing the material to guide certain outcomes while shaping others with care. Each piece develops in response to the one before it, with form often informing the narrative that follows.

I see my work in conversation with the long history of ceramics as a functional art form, while also engaging contemporary questions about where craft and fine art intersect. By placing narrative imagery onto utilitarian vessels, I aim to expand how these objects are understood—not only as tools for use, but as carriers of story and meaning.

Ultimately, I create objects meant to be lived with. Over time, through use, handling, and presence, they gather memory—becoming not only reflections of shared experience, but participants in it.

About the Artist

I work from my studio in Florida (soon to be relocating), creating functional ceramic objects that blend narrative, craft, and personal experience. I began working in clay 2.5 years ago while pursuing a Doctoral degree and working as a children’s counselor. What started as a stress-relieving course quickly became a full-time practice, and I am grateful each day to make a living through my art.

My background in drawing, painting, and plein air study informs how I approach composition, mark-making, and the observation of landscape. Illustration and animation also shape my interest in storytelling, helping me imbue each piece with emotional resonance and a sense of narrative presence. Over time, I’ve learned to trust my instincts, taking design risks that allow me to create work that feels both true and beautiful.

Looking forward, I am exploring new forms, larger scales, and unconventional materials—experimenting with lighting, multi-material combinations, and innovative ways to push the boundaries of functional ceramics. At the heart of my practice is curiosity: continually asking how far I can extend form, design, and material while staying rooted in narrative, craft, and my experience.

EXHIBITIONS & PUBLICATIONS

2019 | Carpe Diem, San Diego, California (Solo)

In the Studio

The studio moves at a steady, unhurried pace. Clay dries when it will, kilns fire on their own timeline, and much of the day is spent waiting, adjusting, and beginning again. There’s a rhythm to it—one that doesn’t rush. Burnadette, my kiln, marks the cadence of the work. Each firing is a commitment of time and attention, a point where everything set in motion has to be trusted to heat and process. I’m rarely alone here. Koe and Hank keep watch over the studio, moving between patches of light and settling in wherever the floor is warm. They have a way of slowing things down—reminding me to step back, to pause, and to let the day unfold as it will.

In the Studio

The studio moves at a steady, unhurried pace. Clay dries when it will, kilns fire on their own timeline, and much of the day is spent waiting, adjusting, and beginning again. There’s a rhythm to it—one that doesn’t rush. Burnadette, my kiln, marks the cadence of the work. Each firing is a commitment of time and attention, a point where everything set in motion has to be trusted to heat and process. I’m rarely alone here. Koe and Hank keep watch over the studio, moving between patches of light and settling in wherever the floor is warm. They have a way of slowing things down—reminding me to step back, to pause, and to let the day unfold as it will.