About

About four years ago, I started taking ceramics classes, eventually became a class aide, and pottery has now become an essential part of my life. I love ceramics because it allows you to make art that you can hold and use every day. I think it’s the saddest thing when art ends up permanently in a museum or private collection. I like art that lives with you: from which you can sip coffee every morning, and from which you can have rice or ramen or freshly cut persimmons. How exciting! If I were a piece of art, that’s what I’d want: to be part of daily rituals, not observed from a distance.

I find it meditative to be working in a science lab or throwing at the pottery wheel. Sometimes, assays fail or cultures don’t grow; pots warp or crack in the kiln. But I think they share the same philosophy: Experiment, and you’ll see!

When things do work, I make functional pieces for everyday use, often decorated with botanical motifs like ginkgo leaves or red poppies. I’m also drawn to tiny things (tiny teapots, tiny vases). There’s something delightful and endearing about them that I just cannot handle. Recently, I’ve been exploring tilework in the form of ceramic magnets featuring San Francisco’s Victorian houses.

My inspiration comes from walks around the city and through nature: maple leaves turning red in the fall, beds of wildflowers, hummingbirds dashing and chirping, the architecture of people’s houses. What I love about ceramics is that it allows you to express it through multiple artistic voices. Some potters perfect form, while others focus on surface design. I want to continue to experiment while also finding my different styles.

It feels exciting to be engaged in an art form that has lasted for tens of thousands of years. (Recently, I learned that the first known clay sculpture dates back to 28,000 BCE!) In science, it’s all about the cutting-edge, and here with pottery I’m learning techniques that have largely remained the same for centuries. It’s a little strange to think that the pieces I make today may outlive me by decades, or break tomorrow. There’s both pressure and thrill in that uncertainty!