Growing up in Ocean City, Maryland, in the late 1960s and 70s, I spent a lot of time wandering the woodlands and marshes surrounding my home. These explorations led to an interest in the ways that earlier people lived in that same area, chiefly in the ways they made the things that allowed them to survive and flourish in an environment that was not as gentle for them as it was for me.

I read as much as I could about Native Americans and the early settlers of this country, and often wished that I had been born in a time when a person made their living with the creativity in their hands and strength in their back. Using the knowledge I had learned, I tried my hand at creating some of the arts they practiced.

It was not until I met a young woman in my high school art class that I found my true art form. She was a potter and taught me to use the wheel. Although the romance did not work out, she started me on a path that, though I have occasionally stepped off, I have followed most of my life.

When my wife and I moved to Asheville in 2003, I hoped to pursue pottery full time. Life and finances had other plans, and I took a full-time job with Highwater Clays. That work kept me connected to the clay community, even during the years when my own work had to wait. After Hurricane Helene, Highwater Clays closed, and I found myself returning to the work I had carried with me all along.

I have returned to the saggar, horsehair, and pit-fired work that first drew me to the marks left by smoke, fire, and chance. The path has not been straight, but it has brought me full circle: back to clay, back to making, and back to being an artist.