The Handmade Experience

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Growing up in rural Oregon I was taught at a young age to value the objects that entered our home. My mother, a woman with a very strong aesthetic, was not only careful to curate her space in a unique and personalized way, she was contantly getting her hands dirtly, trying new mediums of art and craft, and creating one of a kind pieces that made our house feel like home. 

As I got older and more capapble I found that I too was drawn to making things with my own hands. I loved the process of watching my creations progress and slowly take shape. Once I started shopping for my own adult home I gravitated towards items that had already passed through someone else's hands or had lived a life in another household before entering my own. 

The weight of a peice that has been handled, and cared for, and loved, is something that is hard to put into words. 

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I have a bread knife that I found at an estate sale, one of my prized possesons. It has been worn down on the handle in such a way that my fingers eassily find the grooves created by the person before me. The blade is patinaed and has no sheen left to it. Instead it holds the memories and the life of an object that has been looked after and cherished. 

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(picured here is our soap dish and mae soap)

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When I make my cup of coffee in the morining I gravitate towards the mug that my daughter dropped on the deck when she was small. It has a tiny chip at the top, and fine crack that runs down own side. Every time I use this cup I am brought right back to that sweet moment and all of the "uh oh's" that followed. 

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Handmade objects are much the same as old, vintage and antique peices. They hold the same impactful feeling of a piece that has been carefully loved. Each one has a personality all of its own. This is what continually attracts me to this art form. Cermamics are both an artist's expression and a utilitarian piece.