The Last Piece of Imperfection

What seems broken is just life showing its true shape.

This is the last piece I made in Philadelphia—sculpted from 25 pounds of clay. The largest piece I’ve made so far.

It holds the weight and tenderness of this city—its texture, its permission to be raw, unfinished, alive. Philly helped me ground. Helped me grow roots I could feel with my hands.

This is also where I became the ceramicist I am now. Where form began to speak in its own voice. Where imperfection stopped needing to be fixed.

Deep gratitude to Mission in Arts (MiA)—the studio that held me while I found my shape. This piece carries that history in its body.

It’s cracked. Asymmetrical. Full of presence. Just like the path that made it.

And now that path continues—out of Philadelphia, out of the U.S.—into a season of unbuilding and listening. I’ve left behind walls and rooms to carry a more porous home: this body, this practice, this evolving shrine. The making goes with me. The clay remembers.

What seems broken is just life showing its true shape. And I am learning to follow it.