The moment I sat down with a lump of clay to throw my first pot, I knew this was my medium. I loved using the lines of the throwing process to define and emphasize forms. I realized throwing on the wheel connected the clay, my hands and the lines to an organic expression.

I threw my first female torso in college--something a bit bawdy for a grin. Years later, the joke was on me as I embarked on a quest to throw the human figure completely on the wheel. This endeavor became involved and complicated as I realized throwing lines mimic anatomical lines.

This process suddenly felt authentic. I felt like I was tapping into something much larger than myself realizing natural forms, including the human form, are created by a far, far advanced version of the potter’s wheel, some spiraling cosmic conception, and that I was trying to crack a similar code.

Faith that I was on to something sustained me through innumerable failed attempts. I now know that with each success and failure I was getting closer to true, the taste of which sustains and seduces me every time.