I am a functional potter.  That is; I create useful pieces for everyday use.  I like it when someone chooses to acquire something that I have made.  I like to think that people resonate with the intention that is behind the process of creation.  I am encouraged when a mug, bowl, or other item that I have made is purchased for that person's own  use because he/she likes the look or feel of the piece.  I am humbled and grateful when someone tells me that a particular object is a favorite and that it is used everyday. 

One of my early pottery instructors, Bruce Wild, made a statement to the class that contributed greatly to this philosophy.  He said that being a potter is a noble profession.  Potters create pieces that people acquire and incorporate into their everyday lives.  The pieces become favorites, always gravitating to the hand when the cupboard is opened.  The potter's work is often used in personal intimate ways, being drunk from, eaten from, and used in the preparation and serving of food.  This implies a deeper connection between the maker of hand-crafted pottery and the end user than is possible with mass-produced ceramics emanating from a piece of machinery.  It is this connection that is the real reward of creating functional pottery.

I am fascinated by the ergonomics as well as the aesthetics of functional pottery.  I listen to what people say about these things and strive to divine the consistencies between what they say and feel and  the results of my work.  My muses are everyone and at the same time,  no one in particular.  My work is internally driven and also populist.  My aesthetic sense has developed from an appreciation of simple elegance.

I am deeply interested in the technical aspects of my craft, the breadth of which I could could never have imagined when I first decided that I wanted to create things with clay.  The subject of glazes will challenge me until the day that I leave this world.  The mysterious alchemy that occurs at the incredible temperatures of the potter's kiln will never lose the quality of wonder and amazement that I felt when I fired a large kiln by myself for the first time.