The animal has been drawn to make and made to draw- the sum of which remains vaguely superimposed. What is captured are the bleary bits and fragments, the chance events and partly registered perceptions of a story. More often than not, I am an image thief, that is, of my own peripheral vision- responding to the crazy rhythms of the clay on the wheel, snapping away on impulse, and intuition. The coexistence between surface and form intrigues my two dimensional needs. The thrill of altering a pot out of the round creates a playful environment for barn animals to be personified, prompting unusual services at the table.
As a child, I had a miniature wooden farm set. I enjoyed arranging and re-arranging the pieces on my carpeted pastoral landscape; inventing unique ways in which to organize these objects in space, finding complete tranquility in the process, and pleasure in holding the forms. There was a sequence and yet an unstructured play in re-creating these farm narratives. Sweet and sentimental, the memory has become a symbol of hard work and honest labor. When making my pots, I try to emulate these qualities replete with humility and heroism.