Sometimes when asked how I chose to make pots I jokingly say that in a household of artists the only space left to express myself was the table. The family dinner table was the place of sit down meals, jokes, shaggy dog stories, limericks. Grandfather White's round robin letters were read aloud and our day-to-day adventures recounted. While conversations whirled around me, I studied the flowers, the pitcher, the sugar pot and the coffee cup, often imagining them with cartoonish variations.
"Actually though, compression is the opposite of what I do: what
interests me is so remote and fine that I have to blow it way up
cartoonishly just to get it up to visible range. My technique is
something like using a hammer to drive a needle through silk" Poet, Kay Ryan
"Actually though, compression is the opposite of what I do: what
interests me is so remote and fine that I have to blow it way up
cartoonishly just to get it up to visible range. My technique is
something like using a hammer to drive a needle through silk" Poet, Kay Ryan 
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