- I was actually taught how to throw when I was 12 by a farmer with clay that he dug and processed himself.

My earliest influences came in the form of Appalachian craft and folklore and storytelling traditions.

I was raised in North Alabama in the foothills of the mountains, and my parents imparted on the appreciation and respect for handmade items as well as a connection and a resourcefulness of materials.

My process involves hand building and slip casting raw clay, which I don't do it myself.

I do purchase that, and then I either roll it out in a slab or build whatever object I'm thinking of at the time.

And then I typically combine with elements that I've found from nature or found objects that I've rescued from the thrift stores.

Slip casting is a process where you take a liquid form of clay and pour it into a mold and let it set up and then when you open the mold, you have the three dimensional form.

And then with hand building, it's building a structure from the clay.

Instead of say, centering it on a wheel and throwing it, you can either construct it from a pattern, like sewing a dress or assembling a kit, or you can use like a coil method.

I mean, things do break, like, that just happens, but a lot of times I will work with those breaks or fractures to turn it into something else.

Because so much of my process is a discovery within itself.

I feel like it's a collaboration with the clay and with my pieces to kind of help them become what they want to be as well.

And so, you know, just like us, just because something's broken doesn't mean that it's over.

Clay body itself actually has memory.

As it dries, it kind of sinks back into itself and it gives it like a certain feeling of movement and gravity and weight.

(soft music) The way that folklore and storytelling tradition influenced me was it really awakened a part of me interested in mystery and things that were larger than life.

It also gave me a feeling that there was an underpinning just below the surface.

These threads that kind of bind us all together in ways that we don't, we don't often consciously explore.

Universal things that we all experience, like birth and death and decay.

There are so many synthesized boundaries around those experiences that I feel we don't get to fully engage with them and it creates distance between not only our own experience, but between each other in places that we could connect.

We instead kind of go further apart.

That's actually one of the reasons why I am so drawn to nature.

I feel like when you're in nature, these life cycles and season cycles are always evident and like nothing can be hidden in nature and there's no imaginary boundaries around us.

The way that my altar started is really because I have a love of found objects, and that is because of the story that they have to tell within themselves.

There's something magical that happens when you end up putting the right objects together.

They speak to each other and they tell more of an overarching story of some truth or a narrative.

Many times I have found pieces with family photos or handwritten notes tucked inside or dates inscribed on the bottom, and it just is this question of like how did this once prized possession become a castaway?

And so I kind of feel in a way that the story and the life of that object needs to be represented or documented.

I remember as a kid going over to my aunt's and my grandmother's houses and just obsessing over certain trinkets or objects that they had and eventually, some of these items came into my possession, but it didn't quite feel the same.

I found that by combining several of the objects together or adding, you know, different things to it, I could reignite the the luster or the magic that was connected to the nostalgia in memory.

There is definitely an element of whimsy to my work, either visually or sometimes it's through the title.

And I like to keep that element of lightness present for a few reasons.

One is just because if somebody looks at a piece and they laugh or they chuckle, that's great.

I mean, when I make art, I just want people to feel something.

If that's what they take away from it, that's perfectly fine, but there's also an opportunity to dig a little deeper.

Like if you think that title is funny, what is that?

Is that a poem?

Is it a lyric to a song?

You know, there's always a chance to think about it on another level.

You definitely don't have to, but I feel like keeping a little whimsical nature to it kind of lays that invitation open and makes it more accessible.

If I could give advice either to younger me or any younger artist, I would say don't stop.

Like there have been times throughout my career when I question whether I was even an artist anymore but life happens and you just have to keep going and making and it never leaves you.

It's always there.

Just whenever you're ready.

(soft music closes)