My supervisor, David Garneau, asked me why I was so drawn to the cup and bowl, and what would be a more “personal vessel” to me. I immediately thought of my son.

Here, in the summer of 2021, I experimented with his face as a form. After this experimentation, I returned to the humble cup and bowl. Perhaps my son’s face is a bit too personal for me to use in this work, if not for me, then for him.

Though I convey the fragility we face in this time of ecological crises in my pots, it is truly my son’s fragility that most terrifies me. Watching him play on the beach with friends this summer, 2021, while the sky was orange with forest fire smoke, it was impossible for me to stop worrying about his future. What will the world be like when he reaches my age? These pieces convey that feeling I experienced very well, perhaps too well—I didn’t want Jakob to see them. With a climate activist mother, my son already knows too much for his age. It’s a constant dilemma of mine–how much do I share with him? How much does he need to know about the mess he’s inheriting? How much is too much weight for an 11 year-old to bear?

I attempted to put more life into this work of fragility and ephemerality. I may return to these pieces one day.