The Strength to Bloom
It took me a long time to arrive here, and I carry a quiet pride in what this work has become.
It took me a long time to arrive here, and I carry a quiet pride in what this work has become.
My time in the film industry was the first place I felt heard as an artist. Over a 14-year career, my success as a costume designer gave me a voice people listened to, but I was never fully in control of it. Pottery began as my next chapter, something I built from the ground up, quite literally, in my garage. Smaller, quieter work—but it was mine.
After giving birth, I found myself in pain, both physically and emotionally. Motherhood changed me, stretched me, cracked me open. It asked my body and mind to hold more than I thought possible, for longer than I thought I could endure. I began to see beauty not in perfection, but in the quiet, relentless act of continuing—to carry, to protect, to love, long after it becomes difficult.
I see women as powerful in ways that are often overlooked, yet deeply deserving of reverence. These forms are meant to represent all women, inspired by real bodies and shaped to reflect both individuality and shared experience. They are not refined or corrected. They are honored.
A conversation between control and surrender
Each piece is built using coil construction—formed slowly, layer by layer, from the ground up. It mirrors the way I have experienced motherhood and identity: gradual, deliberate, and ever-evolving. The form cannot be rushed. It is a practice in patience and nurture.
Every place two coils meet creates a point of vulnerability—a place where the piece could separate, crack, or fail. In my previous work, I worked to prevent these moments. In this collection, I chose to invite them. The cracks and breaks are not accidents to be discarded, but moments to be held.
I intentionally highlight areas once seen as flaws, or places that have held pain, with 22k gold, adding value, and drawing attention to what is often hidden.
Each piece is a record of change, of resilience, and of the strength it takes to bloom. See the finished works—and if one holds your story, let it find its home with you.