For me there is something magical and mesmerizing about reaching into the earth, pulling forth the clay and spinning it on a wheel to form a vessel. The world around me ceases to exist and my whole self is focused on forming the mass of clay into cylinders, spheres, and disks. I feel a kinship with all of the potters throughout all the ages.

At first, these forms became casseroles, cookie jars and vases. Then there was a slow metamorphosis from functional ceramics (influenced by Hamada-Shoji) to figurative and then abstract sculptures. The opening of bottle necks became smaller, the rims grew larger. One day when I was trimming excess clay from a heavy bottle, a colleague told me it looked like a squatting samurai warrior. My life as a sculptor had begun.

Throwing a basic form is still the beginning of each new sculpture. I see this form as analogous to a blank canvas waiting for paint. I alter the damp structure


by carving, pushing, pulling and attaching chunks of clay. I am attempting to make my work truly three-dimensional with layered surfaces and a play of light and shadow inside as well as outside. On successive viewings I would like to have people discover textural complexities, the interplay of positive and negative forms and to look into the carved openings that expose the sculpted interior.

As I look back on the evolution of these sculptures, I believe that the creation of complex three-dimensional shapes has been a subconscious rebellion against the severe geometries and unadorned surfaces of the Bauhaus aesthetic of my college years.

My current work continues to evolve, and I am very curious to see the direction it takes. There may be fewer individuals and more groups. Some works will be more ornate; others will be simpler. I am beginning to see gesture and motion in the shaping of the clay.