“What a beautiful day to be happy”
I bought a pin once that said “what a beautiful day to be happy” and it's stuck with me. I try to wake up every day with that mentality and attitude.
I think we’re all here to have fun. So, I’ve been trying to find a way to support myself financially while having the most fun possible. I think society as a whole benefits from us all doing what we enjoy. It makes the world a better place when we carry less resentment towards ourselves for not doing that thing that we love. I’m trying to lead by example and figure it out.
I experience great joy when creating my objects. My desire is for people to experience that joy when they see them. Let my little creations remind you that life is about those little everyday things.
Tiny beginnings
I’ve had an adoration of small things for my entire life. I had the tiniest tea set when I was growing up that instilled great wonder and adoration for small things. It was too tiny to use (a single cup would hold only two droplets), but it didn’t stop me from trying to enjoy it.
Growing up outdoors with a deep connection to nature led to me making my own offerings for the fairies. I harvested natural items I found in the forest to make things in their size.
I made a fairy bed that I sewed together with the tine of a plastic fork. One year for Christmas, I made miniature jewelry. I packaged and gift-wrapped them, then left them under the tiniest pine sapling you’ve ever seen.
That love of little things has had an ongoing effect on me – I’m still drawn to those nature scenes and that fairy world. This is something I love about myself: I always look for and find myself falling in love with the simplest little things.
My attention to detail is reflected in my work. My attention to the specific details allows each piece to become its own and take on its own personality, I allow the life and energy within each piece to come to the surface and be realized by others.
When I first met origami…
When I was in middle school, my sister’s class had to fold one thousand cranes collectively...I helped her fold way more than her share that weekend and I haven’t stopped folding cranes since.
The excitement that it provided, taking seemingly nothing and turning it into something that has life to it.
Throughout high school and college, I would fold origami during lectures to help me intake information and feel calm. It came so naturally to me and the memorized motions became comforting, allowing my brain to better focus on the spoken words. I’m a hands-on learner and if my hands aren’t busy, my mind isn’t focused.
I like that I can take squares of paper with me anywhere and there’s always foldable material nearby: newspaper, napkin, receipt, gum wrapper, tin foil, sticky note…you name it, I’ll fold it. It’s so exciting to take seemingly nothing and turn it into something that has life to it.
In highschool, my friend and I had a competition of who could fold the smallest crane. The result? A crane folded from a 12mm square that stood 5mm tall when complete. Yes, I was the one who folded it and no, my hands aren’t tiny. If you visit me at a market, you can see my regular-sized hands and my tiny crane in person!
Then I met clay. . .
It was during my first year at the local community college. I needed to take an art class to fulfill the credit requirement for an Associate in Science degree so I signed up for ceramics!
It was magical experiencing a lump of clay turn into something.
My hands were so satisfied and the more I let my hands communicate with each other through me – without allowing my mind to get involved – the more magic came from them. It was everything my hands were looking for.
When introduced to trimming, I remember immediately asking if we were required to trim on the wheel. I had worked on pieces for hours to get them to this step in the process, and they wouldn’t make it past. They flew off the wheel. I squeezed them out of the round. I trimmed straight through to the other side. There would be a wobble in the piece from forming and trimming just accentuated this flaw even more.
It was an uncomfortable learning experience that I wanted to avoid at first. But I kept at it. I noticed all the intricacies. I paid attention to just how much one step affects the next and the one after.
So, I centered. And centered and centered. It became meditation. I focused on my body, my breath. I cleared my mind and closed my eyes and felt the clay through my whole body. When I saw how my centering process got exponentially better with this mindset, I carried it into the rest of the process.
We were taught to sketch an idea, build a mini, and then make the real thing. This approach didn't fit me. I chose to work without a well-defined intention and allowing the clay to lead me. I hardly ever know what I'm sitting down to make – I am simply making.
I allow the energy of the clay and I to come together and dance as they may. This is why my process takes as long as it does: it is an active energy conversation between the clay and I.
