From Shoreline to Studio –
Time, Texture and What We Notice
There are days along Lake Michigan when the surface of the sand seems to show me so much. Many days, I need to make the time to get out to the beach. Once I am at the shoreline, I notice so many patterns and textures.
Wind from the day before. Water moving in and out. Small tracks crossing through.
On one of those walks, I noticed a line of bird tracks moving toward the water. There was a sense of direction in them—something passing through. It stayed with me longer than I expected.
Back in the studio, that surface began to take shape in clay.
This Lake Michigan inspired ceramic work…
One side of a new vase holds that movement—layered, shifting, unsettled in a way that feels like water on a gray day. When I turn the form, a different surface. It feels more grounded, tree bark texture, like what you notice walking in our midwest forests.
Both feel true to the same place.
The piece is hand built in porcelain and finished with glazes and engobes that include Lake Michigan beach sand, allowing the surface to break and move in a way that reflects the place it comes from.
We Have a Whole Life
In 2001, I read I Shock Myself by Beatrice Wood. One sentence has stayed with me: “we have a whole life.”
For me, that has always meant there is time to do this “thing” now—and later, there will be time for the next.
There were years in finance. Years raising a family. Years running a small business. And now, this time in the studio working in clay.
I still come back to the same question:
How am I going to spend my time?
Returning to Form
That question shows up in the work, sometimes without me realizing it at first.
Lately, I’ve been returning to an earlier idea—small sculptural houses. The ideas are just beginning to take shape again, but I’m drawn to the textures and what they might become over time.
At the same time, I’ve made a shift in how I approach mugs. For years, I worked on the wheel. Now, I’m hand building them.
I feel more connected to the process this way. The forms are slightly different. The surfaces hold more variation. Each piece feels a little closer to the way I experience the shoreline—less uniform, more responsive.
Clay, Use, and Daily Life
Pottery begins with materials that come from the earth.
What we make is meant to be held, used, and lived with over time. In that way, it becomes part of daily life—quietly present.
I think that’s part of what draws me to this work. It allows for attention: to surface, to texture, to small shifts that might otherwise go unnoticed.
What We Notice
And maybe that same kind of attention extends beyond the studio.
Paying attention to what’s around us. To the places we move through. To the people we live alongside.
Some days, it feels like a small thing.
But I’m beginning to think it may be where most things begin.
