First I wanted to build with clay, eat off its river rock surface and drink from the empty spaces it defines. I then wanted to hear the sound of clay as it moves to and fro within itself or as it tries to be its own call in the wild - so I make rattles which memorialize beginnings & whistles which speak without words. Now I want a total “Clay Shibumi” where I am the adaptable turtle or the Bodhi leaf impressed in the clay’s surface; where I know the power of each single hand-formed bead touching my skin. I want to be what the clay is saying as I wear it and fondle it (the way old Greek men stroke their worry beads). So I strive to compose the language of clay beads for all to wear & share and I eagerly impart (to anyone interested) the intriguing ways of clay. Whether knotted together in strands or left as single symbols of contemporary artifacts for carrying in pockets, these tiny matriarchal manifestations personify peace, harmony and partnership in a time when dominance & strife seems the norm. They beg for changes in the present so we all have a future!

The Bead Cellar

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Things and people who are a WOW.

Waste.

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