The water holds me.
I shape vessels that remember the water. My father showed me how to dive beneath the breaks.
As an open water swimmer, he gave me the fundamental grammar of the ocean: jump the small wave, dive under the big one, surface — and look up, because there is always another one coming.
You point yourself at France. The tide decides how you get there.
hydraulic societies
Three unpotes shaped from place-native materials, within the landscape that formed them.
Chalk slip from the Sussex coast. Fire soot. Ink cap. Each piece carries the placeborne finish as a living surface — material from the land, returned to it through the object.
Stoneware form shaped in surf at Stinson Beach. Fractured by tide and carried across ocean to Sussex.
The crack: ocean, a third wave, the biggest of the set. A surface compression where the wand passed over it at security. The crease where I sat on my suitcase to force it shut.
Biography written without intention. It is still teaching me something.
Mid-act. Its biography is ongoing.
Ocean Break No.1
live waters
Three vessels, three encounters, three distinct biographies. Stoneware, white and wood ash glaze, porcelain slip, 2025.
The Glyph Surface
A glyph is a mark the land made without my hand.
Each mark on the surface records a specific event of contact between vessel and place. Pebble weight. Tide pull. Sand press. Iron deposited by water.
Not decorative. Indexical.