Over twentyish years have gone by since I first took an art class, and a lot of things have been painted, carved, printed, collaged, thrown, slabbed, coiled, water colored, photographed, developed, sketched, and drawn before arriving at the processes I use now. Being an art education major allowed me the freedom to take classes in painting, drawing, ceramics, printmaking, photography, even fabric design, and now a current high school art teacher, I still work in many of these processes. I've always loved little bits of each method, but never the full process of any.

Clay has been my favorite since college. I love the meticulous hand building processes and even throwing on the wheel (even though I'm not very good at the latter mentioned). The first tile I made was a product of playing around with left over slab scraps from a demonstration I'd just had for my pottery students. I began assembling sides to a square slab and once complete, it reminded me of a little painting canvas. I ordered white clay suited for tile work, and I became hooked to the process. Confession: I really like to be in control in all situations, so there's something very gratifying to me to be able to hand make the entire surface I will eventually carve and paint. As I carved and glazed the first tile, I knew I'd found the exact process I wanted to work in. I've always enjoyed the tediousness and texture found in carved linoleum or wood, and color is what I love about painting, so why not use my clay as my surface to carve into and play with color?

As people have asked me why I don't sell my art, I've always used the excuse of "well, I don't really feel like I've found my "thing." The beginning of h.made studio was a result of not being able to use that excuse anymore. After years of making, it's become clear to me that the clay tiles that I create are a coming together of parts of the processes that I love, while sharing images of little parts of places that make up my story.

I've always felt a connection to place. When I think back on times that have been special to me, there's always a specific place associated with these moments. Almost like a flip book of quick glimpses of all I've experienced, these places have created what is my home, as in the definition of home as "a place where something flourishes, is most typically found, or from which it originates." Every place is made special by a person, people, or experience; basically, the place tells a story of me.

And it's not just places I've grown up or lived in, but also new places I come across as I travel. I'm always hesitant to share pictures from trips I've taken because they all seem to be of the exteriors of old buildings, old doors, windows, or even the floors where I've stood which would probably bore most. But to me, they're visual reminders of that place, how I felt at that moment, the conversation I was having, even the sounds around me. These little parts of the bigger whole--the doors, the windows, the walls, the floors--all help tell the history and story of that place.

The "h" in h.made doesn't just mean "Hudson," (which is why it's not a capital H). h.made also means homemade, handmade, even history made, and the clay tiles that I make are a way I can share stories. There's a quote from a Garden & Gun article (May 2016) that completely resonates with me, and the writer says, "It's such a southern thing to wretch beauty out of age, to resuscitate ruin, to long for pretty like oxygen, and to want to share that pretty with as many people as possible." If I knew the author of this article, I would ask them if they would loan me this quote to be my mission statement! Basically, I have these images of places, they tell my story, I need to make and paint them, and I want to share them with you.

Exterior wall of Canterbury Cathedral, June 2016

h.made studio stories

the story behind the process