My Story
I discovered pottery in 2018, just after switching to a new job that had me working remotely. The transition left me craving connection, and by chance, I found a local community pottery studio. I signed up for a class, and from the first time I touched clay, I was hooked. That studio became more than a place to make things, it became a second home, a source of community, and the start of a whole new chapter in my creative life.
Pottery is more than just an art form for me. It’s therapy, connection, and liberation from the demands of my grown-up job. I love the quiet rhythm of working at the wheel, the shared stories and laughter with other artists, and the grounding presence that clay offers. Every step, from raw earth to finished piece, feels like a meditation on life itself: the shaping, the stress, the surprise, and the beauty of the unexpected.
I live and work in Nine Mile Falls, Washington, with my family. You’ll find our kitchen shelves filled with pieces I’ve made, used every day and loved hard. My kids sometimes join me in the studio; while they’re not quite into the art, they’re curious about this muddy thing Dad’s always doing. Growing up in Washington has deeply influenced my work. I draw constant inspiration from the rivers, lakes, forests, and the shadow of Mt. Rainier. The textures and glazes in my pieces often echo the landscape of the Pacific Northwest, especially the Spokane River, the Puget Sound, and the Salish Sea.
Sustainability is a big part of my process. I work with recycled community clay, scraps from other artists that are reclaimed and reworked into new life. I like to imagine the many hands that touched the material before me, and I find beauty in how the properties of the clay shift depending on what’s in the mix. Every piece is unique. It’s a practice in gratitude and a reminder that sometimes the things we don’t plan turn out even better than we imagined.
These days, I split my time between the community studio and my home studio, mostly making mugs and cups, and selling at local markets. I use my hands, a wheel, and sometimes a few handmade clay gadgets of questionable usefulness. I hope that when someone holds one of my pieces, they feel not just the form but the story behind it, a quiet connection to the land, the clay, and the people of this place I call home.