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.