I had been writing continuously in my journal for the past several days, documenting each thought and emotion that I had been experiencing...trying to find substance in all the frustrations I had been encountering. Through this I confirmed one very surprisingly simple conclusion....
"All I know is this, that I love the feeling I have when I hold a piece of pottery. I love realizing that I have been turning a tea bowl in my hands for the past hour and never forgot it was there. How exactly is that possible? It's that surface constantly engaging my fingertips and my mind. When I hold that tea bowl for hours it's like I'm recognizing myself as well...and that is more valuable than anything. I can't step away from it and I can't be fooled by it. It is forcing me to grasp it, sense it, acknowledge it, and recognize it. And if I want to ignore it, my only option is to set the bowl down on the table out of the grasp of my hands...but that sensation still lingers on my finger tips. I think what makes clay so special is its ability to interact with a person and their life...and their emotions. Its ability to gather all of your senses....even the ones you want to push away.
If I can get one person in the world to sit there and hold one of my pots and twirl it in their hands for twenty minutes without forgetting that it is there, and while in that time they maybe not just acknowledge that pot, but they also acknowledge themselves....well then I have given someone the gift that clay has given me. The ability to acknowledge and recognize...the ability to stay in touch.
I want my work to be true, be honest...I want every single emotion to linger on the surface. It is raw, it is rough, it is harsh, and it is constantly awakening my fingertips...that's what it is about."