My first exposure to clay came after I'd graduated from college with a degree in urban studies. While working as an editor of scientific manuscripts, I took a night class in clay. I soon realized that while I enjoyed working with words, I was in love with clay. That realization came in 1972, and fifty-odd years later I have not come to the end of my exploration.

I make my pots from high-fire clay and fire them in a reducing atmosphere to about 2350 F. This produces the most durable work possible, and a rich depth of glaze colors. Most of my work is thrown on the wheel, but I also enjoy using slabs for platters and flat dishes.

My work is fairly simple and unadorned, and for years I felt apologetic for this. I began to understand it differently, however, when I displayed my pots at a national gathering of Quakers. I realized that my pots had been reflecting the Quaker value of simplicity long before I arrived at Friends' Meeting. Now as my aesthetic evolves, I am content to design straightforward, functional pots and make them with care.

I love the luminous qualities of porcelain and the robust vigor of stoneware. Whichever clay I am using, I always want the imperatives of function to be accomplished with clean lines, balance, and simplicity.

Rarely do I sketch beforehand, plan in detail, or aspire to match a clay form to a conceptual vision. The work moves forward through my hands more than through my head. Sitting at the wheel, I love feeling the clay change shape. Holding finished pots, I treasure the luscious curve of a just-right bowl, the handle of a well-balanced mug, the satisfaction of a perfectly fit casserole lid. I make pots to be used. My hope is that the pleasure I find in making these pots will be shared by those who use them.