porcelain, fired at mid range, to cone five.
I made Bulb Flowers in a fit of nostalgia for the moment when tulips emerge from frozen earth shattering the endless grey of a New England winter. Years passed by before I understood that while I was making art, art was making me.
My backbone spirals in three dimensions. Its delicate curves were barely noticeable when I was young. Now when I see Bulb Flowers I see myself in it as though it were a mirror.
Tall, straight, and square, those are the words that guide me now. I stretch toward symmetry the way a flower reaches toward the sun.