I came to clay while studying prerequisites for a nursing program, planning to finally join the family business.

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My mother was a nurse. My sister, my aunts, my cousins…nursing runs deep. With a degree in psychology and years working in healthcare and reentry programs, and the obsession with midwifery sparked by birthing my mini, it made sense.

 

But clay had other plans.

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While preparing for a master’s in nursing program, my ceramics professor received a call for an artist to manage a ceramics-based program for a community mental health center.

Armed with a few semesters in clay, I welcomed psychologists, social workers and case managers along with their clients to work with clay as part of their becoming.

 

I had no idea that introducing others to clay would introduce me to myself.

 

It offered a quiet language, a new rhythm.

 

It changed everything.

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Now, I create pieces that honor ritual, resilience, rest and JOY.

 

My ceramics are shaped by memory, the soft weight of gourds, calabashes, and sea-washed shells. I’m deeply inspired by the African diaspora, Adire textiles too beautiful to cut, my great-grandmother’s hands in the garden which look a lot like my hands in clay, the waves I crave at the beach, and quiet time swimming, where the only person to best is the one you were before.