After throwing hundreds of pots, an “ah ha” moment happened.

I realized that pieces aren’t important, in and of themselves. It’s all about the process. Every movement influences the whole, from clay slapped onto the wheel, to the finished piece lifted from the kiln. My thinking shifted from finished pots to manipulating clay, where one change can alter all that came before.

I chose to fire most of my ware in an electric kiln, because of its simplicity of operation; faced with many unknowns, the straightforwardness of the “electric fire” let me focus on making interesting glazes, mostly by spraying pieces with thin multi-layers.

But there is an allure emanating from wood-fired ware. It has such character and depth.

So, it seems I’m in transition, standing in the safety of my process that encompasses years of glaze experiments, and stepping into the labor-intensive richness of pots covered with melted ash and marked by passing flame.