Science explains the beginning of the universe as a cataclysmic event. There was NOTHING and then the Big Bang happened and there was EVERYTHING. This idea is widely accepted and yet very difficult to understand. How can something come out of nothing? The term used to describe this nothing space is that it was a pregnant emptiness. I find this term to be so poetic and when I am building a vessel this is what I imagine it is for. When mud from the earth is processed and manipulated and dried and exposed to extreme heat, the nature of the material can push back and do strange things. Cracks and swelling can easily occur and in my practice I try and make space for this while keeping a structural integrity. It is a fine balance. The vessels are forms that hold potential, not water and I try and fill them with that pregnant emptiness, their pitch black interiors leaving room for questions. The form of a vessel has become a blank canvas for me. Vessels have a deep connection to humanity and I have found that there is a certain comfort elicited when encountering them. A vessel is easily understood as it embodies an idea of life sustaining function. There is a friendliness that allows for a more inclusive experience with the work. No matter your background every person has a connection to an object that can hold something, and when that object also references the natural world there is opportunity for endless personal reflection. In this body of work, Irrelevant Artifacts, I am combing my own collection for objects that act as teachers. As an artist working with clay (and no formal clay training) I am endlessly excited and challenged when trying to understand the essence of a bit of nature through this material. The repetition that occurs while coil building is so similar to how our universe was created. Pinch after identical pinch just like cells dividing into identical cells, and then a tiny shift and the vessel changes shape and the cells evolve to something new. Working in this way keeps me connected to the earth.

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The vessels in the Irrelevant Artifacts series function on two levels. Individually they are rooted in nature but their specific origins are mysterious. Is it a rock? A seed? A piece of bark? A fish? They invite speculation that is inevitably tied to the experiences of the viewer. As a group of objects they become a type of reef. They form relationships to each other and open discussions on why they all work together despite being completely different, like diverse organisms in an ecosystem.

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The photographs in this series turn my drawers of collected objects into small monuments. The original context of the object is removed and replaced by something else. By shooting in film (and having no formal photography training) I leave room for the magic of the material. They are quiet images that remind us of the elegance we are surrounded by.