Artist Statement

Every piece begins with breath.

To blow glass is, quite literally, to use your breath to bring something new into the world.

From the first gather of molten glass to the moment a piece is placed in the annealer, the glass records what happens to it: every reheat, turn, tool mark, correction and pause; the pull of gravity, the temperature of the room, the pace of a movement, the split second spent deciding what comes next. By the time the object is finished, it contains a history.

That is part of what keeps me fascinated. Glass asks for intention, but it resists control. The best moments in the studio often feel less like doing than listening: paying attention to what the material is becoming, anticipating what it needs next, and responding without hesitation or hurry.

Sometimes the piece lands where I hoped it would. Other times, the glass pulls me somewhere unexpected. And even after all of that work, a piece can still be lost. I have learned to care deeply and to let go as best I can.

That tension sits at the center of my practice. I want to make work that feels considered without feeling overcontrolled; objects that preserve movement, surprise, and the evidence of a human being making decisions in real time.

Our bodies carry the histories of what has happened to us. In its own way, glass does too. Neither fragility nor change makes something less alive; they become part of its form.

Glass remembers.