Ever since I was a child my mother told me I had the hands of a potter. 

It wasn’t until enough time had passed for me to truly understand that this was all predetermined.

The control I have over my work is minimal, my hands are merely a conduit to express my soul. The more control I relinquished from my work, the more it took shape, the more it became an extension of my soul.

Every creation contains a piece of me, I'm still at a loss for what it is that I'm trying to say through my work, but I'm sure with enough time, everything will reveal itself. For our lifetimes are short, and we rush to understand what we don't yet know.

It was never my intention to create what I do, but my purpose. Being an artist isn’t something I chose. It was something I was designed for.

I didn't go to art school and I’m not formally trained, aside from a handful of pottery lessons in 2014, and a brief apprenticeship in Japan[but that’s story for a rainy day]  I’m largely self taught.

Accolades, awards, and status, are not not my goal.  I do however, wish to share my work- not with the world, but maybe a few people whom might be interested with the story that I don’t yet know that I’m telling.

Time is my biggest influence, it’s the greatest sensei I could ever ask for. Nothing truly makes sense until enough of it passes for things to come together, and finally take shape.