Experiment and discover” is my motto when it comes to blowing glass. Working with glass
always includes a moment when things might go wrong. In those moments, human error
becomes part of the process, creating opportunities to experiment and learn. Instead of
discarding mistakes, I lean into them. I let the material guide me, following its lead rather than
forcing my will upon it. Our mistakes become our thumbprints, proof that these objects were
shaped by human hands, not machines.

Among the pieces on display, you will see traces of both my missteps and my attempts to
recreate them, hidden in plain sight. As technology and AI increasingly attempt to replace
artistic creation, I believe this is precisely the moment when being an artist matters most. The
imperfections in glassblowing are not flaws; they are expressions of life, process, and touch.
My goal is to help viewers fall back in love with art, imperfections and all.

The process of blowing glass feels sacred. I work at the end of a blowpipe, heating it until the
tip glows cherry red before gathering molten glass as if scooping honey. This molten mass
hangs from my bench, always threatening to cool and crash to the floor. My former professor,
Aric Snee, taught me early on to stay detached from my pieces because they could shatter at
any moment. That philosophy has shaped the way I create: I do not chase perfection; I cherish
the process.