Clay particles — macro‑molecular structures — are bound with water even in their firmer states. Under pressure, this water helps align them into a coherent body; in more dilute water, they drift apart and align at random. I shape with water because it is part of their essence — and all life’s essence — a play on the limit between shape and non‑shape. ion text goes here

My postdoctoral research at The Francis Crick Institute explored how living systems repair and adapt. I carry that lens into the studio: vessels are treated as processual bodies, shaped by feedback from their environment.  

Erosion, immersion, and elemental exposure are not damage, but dialogue — the vessel’s form emerging through exchange.es here

Satellite pigment surveys trace mineral distribution across collection sites.  

British Geological Survey verification confirms the geological origin of clays and grogs, grounding each piece in a specific landscape.  

Pigments — chalk, fungi, mineral oxides — are chosen for their relationship to place, not just their hue.

Some materials arrive through exchange: shards from fellow ceramicists, pigments from foragers, images from lens collaborators. These are folded into the work as acts of kinship, expanding the vessel’s lineage beyond my hands.