the kind of animal you are

“the kind of animal you are” is a piece about my time in art school. I have spent the last 5 years working closely with ceramics as a material partner. I learned to coax the quiet malleability of clay into functional pots and expressive sculptures. I failed and succeeded, I have lost and found myself. I discovered inherent spirituality in what we do as ceramicists and as artists. Clay says what my words can’t; my hands can speak here. In the end, I give these pieces of myself over to the kiln’s whims. 

I find joy in working with symbolism because you get to decide what everything means to you. If you can see yourself in the work, I feel I have succeeded. If you can’t, then maybe you can better understand me. There is fear and self-knowledge wrapped up in this stack of objects. I wanted to make something good for you, for this culmination of 5 years of work. I decided to make what I wanted, and to show you how I feel. And so there is hiding, dreaming, experimenting and failing here. But there is also spirit, and it takes the form of birds and dogs. I spent my life around dogs. I see them as an allegory for care and loyalty, in many cultures they are revered as guides into the afterlife. Birds contain the same ineffable quality, I believe my grandpa was reincarnated as a crow. I feel a sense of otherness when I watch them migrate to their roost in the evenings in East Vancouver.

Sometimes making here has felt like when a plant sprouts from a crack in the cement. I am scared to move into the next phase of my life, but someone told me that I will keep on making after this, because that’s the kind of animal I am.

And so, here it is, and here are some other things I have made. I feel immense gratitude for the ceramics studio technicians, my peers and my instructors. I made a lot of stuff, and I also made a beginning.