Artist's Journey

Clay has been an instinctive, living presence in my hands since I was four years old. What began as a childhood impulse to shape figures evolved into a lifelong commitment, leading me to a teenage apprenticeship and a formal degree from Ringling College of Art and Design. My path was solidified at age twenty-three during my first museum exhibition at the Ringling Museum of Art, juried by a curator from the Museum of Modern Art. However, my true voice as an artist was forged at the intersection of this formal training and my personal journey deeply marked by family fractures in my youth and sudden, overwhelming seasons of personal loss. Navigating these disruptions taught me about fragility, instability, and the quiet resilience required to put a life back together.

This emotional arc of fracture and recovery is physically engineered into every sculpture I create. My studio practice is a literal loop of creation, destruction, and restoration. I begin by building a rigid inner armature, applying the clay, and sculpting the intricate details. Once the medium becomes leather-hard, I cut the piece apart to extract the armature and carefully reconstruct the hollow form. From there, the process embraces intentional trauma: I either slice the sculpture into deliberate sections while it is still leather-hard, or I systematically shatter it with a hammer after its initial bisque firing.

These individual shards then journey through intense heat exceeding 1800 degrees. Once cooled, I temporarily reassemble the pieces like a complex puzzle to map out the color layout and apply the glazes. I fire the fragments again, reconstruct the form, and determine the exact placement for my precious metal Gold, Platinum, and Mother of Pearl. This high-stakes cycle requires multiple firings and heavily layered surfaces, with each phase demanding that I repeatedly rebuild the form to see how the light and materials interact.

When the final firing is complete, I meticulously epoxy the sculpture back together for the last time. The completed work does not hide its fractures; instead, it elevates them. The structural seams become lines of strength, transformed by vibrant glazes and brilliant, reflective metals. Ultimately, my sculptures stand as a physical manifestation of human endurance. They reflect a lifelong creative impulse to face what is broken, navigate the heavy work of transformation, and find a deeper, more profound beauty in the process of recreation.