This series began on a visit to my sister in rural Maine, where small cottages cling to wild hillsides—structures weathered by salt air and long winters, stitched quietly into the landscape. Perched above rocky slopes or looking out over water and rolling forest, these homes felt capable and self-contained, a little isolated yet deeply rooted in place. They carried that unmistakable sense of “Maine”: not polished, but resilient; simple, but not fragile.
Those impressions stayed with me, and in the studio they became the foundation for these forms.
I started with the massive river rocks that anchor so many of those hillsides—smooth, ancient shapes that sit half in water, half in world, constantly shifting as waves lap over them. There’s danger there, and beauty too: the way water hides and reveals, how it changes what you think you’re seeing, how it insists on movement even when the stone stays still. These pieces echo that dialogue between solidity and change.
The surfaces carry a layered, weather-worn vocabulary of marks. The planters are imagined as vessels that might one day cradle small bonsai pines, the rugged trees that define so much of Maine’s horizon.
B3 and 55 clay (slab mixed), fired to Cone 6, with slip and colored underglaze. The bowls have liquid quartz applied to make them foodsafe.
Maine Series
Winter/Spring 2025-26 (current/ongoing series)